#they might set fire to your whole house

[stergeon]

> Hit FERDINAND with the TEA-PHYSICAL AFFECTION combo.

Alright. You can do this. You are armed with TEA. You fought on the frontlines in some of the most dangerous battles of THE WAR. You are the tactician that helped HER MAJESTY transform the entire continent. You are strong and capable of anything to which you set your brilliant mind—even displaying PHYSICAL AFFECTION.

Just give him a kiss. That’s plenty. You can do that. You’ve done it before, even—if only in the throws of passion and not like this, apropos of nothing, simply for the sake of doing it. You can handle it, and he will surely appreciate it, and then you can go to BREAKFAST and the rest of your day will proceed perfectly normally. It’s just like in SCENARIO #129419: set down the tea, lean in, and—

Oh, bother. Now you’ve done it.

You don't have a scenario planned to help you deal with this. You've disturbed FERDINAND and made a mess and were negligent in your scenario planning and will be late to BREAKFAST and you couldn't even kiss him. You couldn't even kiss him.

#009 | << | <- | -> | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | ALL POSTS

[gemstone-roses]

Keep me warm

Summary: reader is terrified of storms, soaking wet, she shows up at hannibals door, terrified and needing comfort. Size kink. Cock warming.

Warnings: 18 plus only. NSFW, descriptions of a panic attack, cock warming, size kink, smut, hurt/comfort. You know the drill.

A:N- thankyou for requesting this I have been thinking about this scenario ever since! Hope your okay! Much love ❤️. I know you said you'd be fine with hc but you get a whole fic instead🥰 also I got rained on so much last week and now I'm full of cold I HATE this time of year ugh. I hope you like this I really do 🥰🥰

This might be one of my favourite things I've written.

You regret every decision you've made leading up to this point.

Grey clouds gather above you, you look up, wincing.

You thought you could make it home before the rain. Only wearing a light jacket, definitely not equipped for the kind of weather about to unleash on your head.

Fuck you whisper, hands clenching as thunder rolls in.

You shove your jacket off and hold it above your head in a pathetic attempt to retain at least a bit of dignity. You know you can't make it home with the storm, your anxiety already heightening with every crack you hear.

But you can make it to hannibal.

He's the only one who knew of your fear. Having to reveal it one day when you were both on the way to a crime scene.

The rain falls hard on the front of the car, wipers working overtime to clear it, your amazed hannibal can even see through the haze of rain. Your breath hitches as you hear the beginnings of a storm. You hoped he didn't notice. But this is hannibal. Of course he did. He glances over at you, sees your chest heaving and pulls over.

"Y/N" he says softly, shifting in his seat to face you.

But the rain is coming down so fast and hard and it's like you can feel it, in your soul. Your head spins as you try and take a deep breath. Hannibal places his hand on your thigh and squeezes, once again calling your name. When you don't look at him, he reaches out and grips your chin gently.

His face is flooded with concern

"I- can't

You push your hand into your chest, trying to ease the weight that's settled there.

"I know, I know, y/n, keep your eyes on me, okay?" Hannibal soothes.

You force yourself to keep looking at him, his big hand still rests cupping your chin, applying a slight pressure.

"Good" he smiles, hannibal weighs up the options in his head. Getting out of the car is out of the question, and he asks "do you trust me?" And you nod, so hannibal unclips your belt and says "Come here" before pulling you onto his lap. He immediately holds you tight, pushing you into his chest. "It'll be over soon my love" he soothes as he holds you against him. You can hear his heart beat as you lay on him, and eventually it calms you.

By the time you knock frantically at his door, your positively soaking wet, teeth chattering, tears blending in with the rain running down your face.

Hannibal opens the door and your hit instantly with a wall of warm. His brow furrows in concern as he takes in your state.

"S-storm" you mutter, looking down at the floor before you feel two hands wrap around your waist and pull you into the house.

Hannibal immediately pulls you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You shrink into his embrace, his presence beginning to melt away the fear you felt.

Shivers rack your body, cold setting in, hannibal holds you tighter.

'I've got you' he says.

"Come on, let's get you warmed up hm?" His hand comes to cup your face as he speaks.

He leads you to the lounge, where the fire is roaring.

"Let's get out of those wet clothes my love" he says, his hands rest lightly on your waist. Waiting.

You look at him, his eyes blown wide, hannibal swallows visibly.

"Would you like me to leave while you change?" He asks.

"No" you whisper.

Hannibal lifts your soaking shirt over your head. His breath catches in his throat as he does, lips parted slightly as he takes you in.

You slip out of your pants just as hannibal places the dry shirt over your head. It falls just below your knees.

Hannibal runs his fingers over your neck "you, are exquisite" he says, slightly breathless.

Heat rises to your face, warming you. Your still shivering slightly though, and hannibal of course, notices.

"Come here" he whispers, sitting down on the sofa and pulling you on top of him.

You let out a moan as you feel his cock against you, sitting deliciously against your core.

Hannibals cock hardens even more at the noise you made.

"Your still colder than I'd like darling" he says seriously, running his hands up and down your exposed thigh.

"Mm" is all you manage to say.

"I was working on my memory palace, when you knocked"

"M sorry" you mutter, ducking your head.

Hannibal tuts, lifting your chin to look at him.

"No, do not apologise, but, I do need to finish my thoughts" he says as his cock twitches.

"How about we stay like this until I'm done hm? And then I'll cook and you can spend the night?" He asks.

You nod.

"Words, darling" hannibal says sternly.

"Yes" you breathe out.

You shift slightly, his clothed cock pushing against you making you drip with need.

Hannibal grips your hips and stills you.

"Not until I'm finished" he grins. Before pushing you back slightly so he can free his cock from his pants.

You watch in awe as his thick cock springs up against his stomach.

Hannibal places his hands back on your hips before guiding you to sit on his cock.

You close your eyes, pleasure overtaking you as he sinks inside.

"No my love, you keep your eyes on me" he says, his voice gravelly.

"Hanni, please" you whisper, his cock filling you stretching you so good.

He ignores you. Continuing his thoughts as he twitches his cock every now and then inside you.

He keeps one hand gripping your chin, looking at him as you warm his cock.

"You feel so good, sitting on my cock like this, so perfect" he says.

Your chest heaves at his words.

"M so full, please, I need you" you choke out, feeling every ridge of his cock inside you, he pushed himself up on the couch slightly, causing him to hit another spot inside you.

"Fuck" you cry out.

Hannibal smirks, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. He begins to trace small patterns on your back.

"Hanni, it feels so good" you whisper into his chest, clenching around him.

"I know my love, just a bit longer I promise, your doing so well for me".

You whine at his words, and hannibal keeps talking to you like that, you relax into him, his cock still snug inside you as he holds you, warming you up, as you warm his cock.

[reasonsforhope]

Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

[erwinsvow]

hii shea idk if someone has already made this type of request if that's the case please ignore me but i can't stop thinking about shy!reader absolutely cock drunk asking for the first time rafe to fuck her raw and the question caught him so off guard that he felt feral and dizzy, his composure slipping away just wanting to please his sweet girl<3

hi baby omg no i don't have any reqs like this here it is hope i did it justice <33

rafe was teasing you today.

after more than an hour of back and forth at whatever party you two had gone to for the evening—and only because rafe wanted to sell and your friends had already promised they'd be there—you were more than ready to go home.

except rafe hadn't taken you home yet. instead you'd been all around the house—on rafe's lap in the living room to start. leaning in to your boyfriend's ear, you know he can tell how desperate you're getting.

you don't do well with denial anymore—rafe had spoiled you too much for that.

"can't we go now?" the words are whispered to rafe, and you rest your head on his shoulder, blinking up at him while you wait for a response. one of his hands leaves the armstand of the sofa and grips your exposed thigh, skirt riding up a little too much.

"it's early. hold out a little longer. can you do that for me?"

you think your eyes are going to roll all the way back. the answer is yes, of course, you can do that for him. you would do anything for him. you just don't want.

following that, you accompanied rafe to the other side of the house where a whole swarm of people were chasing their next high. though you should really stand next to him, you just can't find it in you today, instead staying his back, peering out every now and then like shy children do.

it's all worth it, because moments later rafe takes you upstairs, murmuring something about how you're being a good girl for holding out. there's an empty bedroom that you think is the perfect place to spend the next hour.

rafe's talking to you—though you're so deliriously horny you can't really hear him. you nod and stare up, agreeing to whatever your boyfriend wants to do, just wishing he would hurry up and do something already, when the door opens.

you're not naked, though if they had barged in a few minutes later, you might have been. and normally you think your face would be burning, that you might die of embarrassment at someone catching you like this.

instead you're just mad.

it's the owner of the house—which makes sense, since your boyfriend has brought you up to the master. he's got a girl of his own on his arm, and you grind your teeth getting up with rafe, furious and impatient now.

"at least knock next time!" you yell when you shuffle through, ignoring splutters of it's my house!

you think rafe is going to ask you what you want to do next—but he doesn't. your boyfriend, like always, knows what you need before you can even know it sometimes. you follow rafe back to his truck, ready for, at the very least, some peace and quiet.

when you finally get up to rafe's room, the buzz of the party is wearing off a bit. your feet hurt from your heels and you can't believe you yelled at someone. lost in your own thoughts, you don't even process rafe sitting down next to you, until he takes your feet into his lap, undoing the strap of your shoes for you.

it's instant—one touch from him is enough to set your skin on fire.

"oh," you say, at the sudden realization you might finally be getting what you want. you stare at where rafe is holding your ankle in place, shoes on the ground now. "thank you."

"s'nothing, kid. get on the bed." eagerly, you comply.

in the vain hope that rafe was as impatient as you are—you thought he would just fuck you already. but it seems not, with the slow way he kisses up and down your neck, down to your tits and your stomach.

you find it a lot easier to ask him for things now—a new dress, dessert, money for your nails—but it seems impossible to ask him for this, so you opt for enjoying it and staying silent.

but even then—rafe always knows when something is wrong. you're practically vibrating from anticipation—you had wanted your boyfriend to fuck you hours ago on that stupid couch from that stupid house. it seems your body was only now realize how long you'd been clenching your thighs, biting your cheek and ignoring the tense knot in your stomach.

a few touches from rafe was enough to have you practically melting—staring up and still not saying anything.

"y'okay, kid?" he asks, and you really don't know how to answer. "s'okay. you're getting what you want."

you can do this. you're patient—you've always been patient.

"can you-please, just-" alright, maybe not. "can you please just fuck me raw, please, please, just fuck me-"

of course, rafe's not stupid. he could tell you've been on edge all night, he just hadn't known why. he stares down at you, all flushed, hot skin and heavy breaths, looking up at him. he knows whatever reaction he gives you will stay on your mind, and though he can try as hard as he wants, you are impossible to say no to.

"jesus. s'that really what you want?" you nod eagerly. "can't regret this later, baby. once we do that, it's-it's serious. what if i knock you up, huh?"

rafe watches you take in the words, facing twisting in understand.

"please knock me up."

[jasmines-library]

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin. 

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look. 

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you. 

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that. 

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar. 

~

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece. 

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything  you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake. 

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

[peachsayshi]

Hello can I request a part 5 for the inexperienced reader where they finally do the deed? Thank you and I really love all your writings. You’re amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (part 4) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 7,712

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: hi, nonnie! I haven't posted the official part 4 for playboy geto x reader, so here is an update! part 5 is the final part of this mini series and I am still figuring out the scenario for the big moment. I had this idea in my head and really wanted to write out. I hope you enjoy the update!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; hurt/comfort; the first fight; making up; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; fingering; practice makes perfect *wink wink*

There’s a downpour outside - a peaceful shower trapping you in a cocoon of stillness. Grey clouds collide, orchestrating a rumble of thunder to disperse across the horizon. You squeeze the glass of tea in your hand and breathe out a heavy sigh as you continue observing the waves crashing onto the shore in the distance.

Standing in pensive thought, you find yourself contemplating why the sky isn’t a saturated blue, and why you are not wiping away grains of sand between your toes while tasting the salt in the air and getting kissed by the sun in the red bikini that you are wearing.

This is your first weekend away with Suguru and it was supposed to be perfect…magical even, but…

You haven’t exchanged more than a few of sentences with him in two whole days.

The truth forms as a discomforting lump in your throat. At this point you’re convinced that the turbulent events of this week is what conjured up such a dreadful storm to hijack your mini vacation, and you’ve been a bundle of nerves ever since because you’ve never had a fight with him before.

Not a real one, anyway.

Whenever a situation got remotely tense, your boyfriend would be the first person to jump in to talk things out. Suguru hated having petty arguments and always relied on strong communication to put out any fires before they set everything ablaze. You know it’s entirely unfair to put that expectation on him but, the truth is, you’ve grown used to him mediating, and depended on him to squash potential disagreements without question.

What you weren’t expecting was for things to escalate between you two because it’s never happened before, and now you aren’t sure how to proceed.

What if he leaves me?

The nauseating thought of a potential break up twists your gut, but you brush off your anxiety as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip of soothing chamomile.

Couples fight, you think, it’s normal to fight.

Your fingers pinch the ceramic so hard, you feel it might crack from the pressure. You’ve tried to reach out since then, but Suguru remained unresponsive to your little gestures of peace.

Why is he still ignoring me?

You lean your head against the window and exhale, eyes fixated on the storm’s dramatic performance. A bolt of lighting crackles across the sky, channeling you back to the night on Suguru’s sofa just two weeks prior.

His fingers were trailing the outline of your thigh, keeping your body tucked perfectly into his frame. You were twirling a strand of his onyx hair between your fingers, listening to him proposition the idea of the weekend trip away.

“Yuki is one of my oldest friends. She lives in a beach house, so that’s where we will all stay…” he casually stated. “We visit her a couple of times a year, and I know she would love to meet you.”

You said yes without hesitation.

At the time, there was no need for you to question who Yuki was or how Suguru knew her. There was no need for you to pry deeper into the memories of his past because you were just living in the bubble of present happiness.

“We used to spend every summer at her beach house while I was in university,” Suguru informed you a few days later, slipping in that tidbit of information right after describing all the places he was excited to take you to. “I love that her beach house is so far away from the city. Plus, they have the best soba in the village. You’ll love it, I just know you will…”

This deep infatuation you shared for Suguru had your heart swelling up more often around him. Your valves were arrows to a compass that always spun directly towards him, your shining North Star. Your eyes were glazed over in a rosy shine of deep romance, making it hard for you to blink away the hue of its affection, but you should have taken a breath to catch yourself.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have reacted so harshly later on.

The ”problem”, as Suguru dubs it, happened two days before the trip.

Shoko invited you to join her and Utahime on a shopping date to pick up some new swim suits for the occasion. However, you weren’t expecting to see Mei Mei upon arrival. Your friendship with Shoko made it easier for you to blend in with the rest of Suguru’s group, but Mei always kept you at an arm’s length. For the most part, you approached any interactions with her with caution. You made sure you were nice and didn’t try to pursue anything beyond cordial conversations. Despite your attempts at playing cool, Mei continued making snide remarks about you being “Suguru’s Girl” and enjoyed addressing you condescendingly.

Truthfully, she treated you as if you were simply a stranger with one foot out the door and not the person who was in a committed relationship with her friend.

Your eyes, powdered with pink infatuation, had you feeling indifferent about her sharp tongue on this particular outing, and it made you loosely speak up about how excited you were to go on this trip with your boyfriend.

Your walls were completely down when Mei went in with a new attack while you were all having dinner together.

“It’s adorable how excited you are. Besides, I think it’s about time that you met Kiki…” she giggled, earning a glare from both Shoko and Utahime.

“Kiki?” you replied like a naive child, all wide eyed with an innocent pinch between your brow.

“Suguru didn’t tell you?” Mei coos as she proceeds to take a sip of her milkshake. “That’s his special nickname for Yuki. The two of them used to spend their summers together getting high and fucking. She was his first, you know…”

Your cheeks were stinging with embarrassment. You glanced over to both Shoko and Utahime, praying that one of them would denounce Mei’s confession.

Instead, Shoko shook her head with disapproval and simply added, “we all know that it wasn’t serious…”

“Wasn’t serious?” Mei interjected, her cruel eyes fixed on you. “Suguru was in love with her…”

“He wasn’t in love with her,” Shoko sternly answered. “They were friends. Don’t make up stories in your head”

Mei swirled her straw around her vanilla milkshake. “We are his friends too but that didn’t stop him from hooking up with us either. The only difference is that Yuki is the one who broke his heart afterwards. Suguru didn’t speak to her for an entire year...”

“How about you don’t stir up problems for no reason, Mei.” Utahime bit back, and Mei responded by rolling her eyes with mild disinterest.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Everyone at this table, except Shoko, hooked up with Suguru at one point,” she let out a pretty laugh, one laced with wicked intent. “Maybe this is something we can all bond over at the beach house. Compare notes and what not…”

“How about we dial back the bitchy attitude and put the subject to rest” Shoko interjected, and Mei merely huffed before sipping her milkshake with nonchalance.

Hot, heavy jealousy coiled around your skin, and you used every ounce of restraint not to pick up Mei’s drink and toss it right in her face. By the time your brain was able to connect the dots to formulate even a single sentence, the conversation swiftly moved onto another subject.

You reached for your soda, slurping the icy beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off.

This isn’t the first time that Suguru’s friends have made teasing comments about his past, but Mei took it too far.

The worst part about that god-awful interaction is that it was working out in her favor.

Why didn’t Suguru tell you?

The question sat in your head up until you returned home. You were in a bitter state, choosing to curb Suguru’s calls and ignore Shoko’s messages.

She still called you the next morning with a heartfelt apology.

“We’ve all known Mei for years so we put up with her attitude,” Shoko explained, “But you owe her no allegiance and what she did was uncalled for. I’m really sorry about that…”

“It’s fine, Shoko…” you insisted, but your tone was hard and defensive because it wasn’t fine and you barely got any sleep thinking about what she said.

“I had a long conversation with her last night, and she’ll be backing off from now on,” Shoko consoled.

“Great,” you answered through gritted teeth, trying your best not to hurl the phone at the wall.

“Look,” Shoko added on with a sigh, “I know Suguru doesn’t have the best track record and I know we all give him shit for it, but we also all know that we’ve been too hard on him. He really, really cares about you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You wished those words were enough to sway you back but they felt just as empty as the space in your chest.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You couldn't stop wondering why.

The day before you left for the getaway, you were giving Suguru the coldest shoulder. He had come over to help you pack your things, but instead was left puzzled by your behavior.

You leaned away from his kisses, always tilting so he aimed for your cheek. You shrugged off his touch, pretending to busy yourself with searching through your closet and picking your outfits. You could feel his piercing stare from over your shoulder, those dark eyes dissecting the softest parts of you to get to the root of the problem. You tried to focus on the music from gently playing through the speakers, but as you walked over to your bag to pack another dress, Suguru quickly reached for your hips to drag you onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked seriously, his voice the tip of a sharp blade pressing into your heart.

You shook your head, caressing the fabric between your fingers. “Nothing, I have a headache,” you repeated firmly, sticking to the same excuse that you had given him earlier.

“Sweetheart,” he replied tenderly, your body stiffening when he brushed his lips over your shoulder to leave a contemplative kiss. “What’s actually wrong?”

You froze, your anger scalding your insides as it bubbled to the surface. You squeeze the dress between your hands, creasing the smooth surface. Suguru rests his chin on your shoulder, patiently waiting for you to at least acknowledge him.

“Is it true that you were involved with “your friend” Yuki?”

You hid your hurt with sarcasm, her name rolling off your tongue with a hint of disgust.

Suguru lifted his head from your chin, his fingers pinching against the fat of your hip while his other hand moved to reach for your jaw. He angled your face towards him, a pained expression masking over his breathtaking features.

“Who told you?”

“Mei,” you answered sharply, “apparently Shoko and Utahime know all about it too…”

“Look,” Suguru sighed, “it’s…it’s not what you think…”

“Did you to spend your summers getting high and fucking?” you interrupted harshly, mimicking the cruelty in Mei’s voice as you posed your question.

Suguru closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it true that she was your first?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly this time.

“Yes, but…”

You rolled your tear soaked eyes as you stood up on your feet, tossing the dress into your bag as you folded your arms across your chest to give Suguru your back.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The fact that Mei had all the ammunition in the world to hurt your feelings, or that she knew that your doting boyfriend would keep this from you.

Suguru stood up, carefully approaching you from behind as he extended his hand out to find your waist once more.

“Mei’s a gossip,” he contended, “I told you that when we first met…”

You spun on your heel to meet his anxious stare, drilling your fury right into him.

“That’s not the point,” you argued. “The point is that you lied to me! The point is that you spent weeks going on and on about “your friend” without even warning me that you were both intimately involved…”

“We put that shit behind us years ago. I didn’t want to bring it up, and I didn’t think I had to. Mei shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Didn’t think you had to?” you repeated with confusion.

“There was no reason to,” he replied with annoyance, his fingers digging into your waist. “Because you and I are supposed to trust each other, and considering how things have been going between us, I thought we did.”

Your heart raced at the fact that Suguru was still keeping his mouth tight lipped over what happened with Yuki, which did little to help your own dramatized theories on their relationship.

If he was being secretive about something as serious as this, then who knows what other tales he might have been spinning with that honeyed mouth of his.

The knot that’s wrung itself around your mind finally snapped.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have an inventory of people I slept with to keep track of…”

Suguru winced, the involuntary grimace an unusual sign of hurt. Your apology shot to the tip of your tongue, and you were ready to jump right into his arms and plead for forgiveness. This brutish commentary was so unlike you, but you didn’t know how to keep a handle on your own insecurities this time around.

“Keep track, huh?” he answered softly, the faintest hint of distress coming through and making you nip at your bottom lip out of guilt. “Must be hard having a boyfriend who is so used up…”

“No...you're not. That's not what I mean, I’m…I’m just saying that it’s different,” you retracted, easing your delivery to try and explain yourself. “You just don’t have to worry-”

“Is there a reason for you to worry?” he rebuked, quirking his brow in genuine surprise.

You scoffed, “You told me about everyone else you’ve been involved with but with her you are suddenly keeping quiet-”

“Please, tell me you’re fucking joking right now-“

“You can’t-” you interjected, clearing the catch in your throat as your voice warbled uncomfortably. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this, Suguru. I have to be able to trust you and that’s only going to work if you are honest with me. Keeping something like this from me doesn’t help…”

Suguru dropped his hand away from your waist, and folded them over his chest tightly. There was a twitch in his jaw, and the disappointment in his eyes spoke volumes. You both stood there in silence, studying the other in deep concentration.

“I thought you did trust me. You were practically naked in bed with me when you said it. So what is it then? Do you trust me or not?”

Your face grew increasingly hot recalling his birthday, the way you were soft, vulnerable and pliable sprawled out against his chest...

“I do…” you replied with very little confidence. “Sort of…”

You swallowed your regret to stare down at your feet shamefully, and allowing your pride to fight the battle for you. If you can waver his insecurity even a little then maybe you might find some equal footing with the discomfort.

“I can’t change my past. I can’t erase the people I’ve been involved with. Yes, we both had different opinions about how we viewed relationships, but we aren’t going last long as a couple if I’m the only one that has faith that this is going to work,” Suguru informed calmly, using his fingers to gesture between you both.

Hearing those words from your lover’s lips felt like surprise blow. You parted your mouth to exhale quietly, clenching your hands tightly by your side as you naively waited for him to attempt to turn things around.

“I’ve given you everything. I’m not going to force you to trust me,” Suguru adds on, his tone morphing into a cold, cruel note. “And if you fucking can’t, then I’m done.”

Your head shot up in surprise, the front of your brows upturning sorrowfully but Suguru had already turned on his heel to walk out of the room, slamming your bedroom door right behind him.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

The car ride to the beach house was terrible.

Neither you or Suguru said a single word to one another. He kept his focus on the road, while you kept replaying the words “I’m done” on repeat in your head.

It was disappointing to start off on such a sour note because Yuki’s beach house was the perfect getaway spot as Suguru described. The location was rural, and the building was quaint and cozy. The size is big enough to fit your entire group, but not to the point where it was gaudy. Suguru mentioned that the property belonged to Yuki’s mom, which she eventually inherited after she passed away.

Meeting Yuki took your breath away. From the moment you laid eyes on her you understood how a young Suguru would be infatuated. She was striking - tall, with long, golden hair that cascaded all the way down to her butt. Every part of her was perfect, from her toned tummy revealed by her short black cropped top, to her legs that seemed to go on forever which were covered in only a pair of loose denim shorts. She had a naturally cheeky grin, like there was something up her sleeve that no one could quite point out, and sharp brown eyes that were simply inviting.

She pulled Suguru in for a warm hug, and ruffled his hair like a sister would.

“Sug! Your hair’s getting long! I like it!” she chirped with a big smile, while Suguru held an effortlessly casual stance to play off that the two of you haven’t been ignoring each other this whole time. Yuki instantly turned to face you, “And you must be the girl that stole his heart! I’m so glad to meet you! This guy never shuts up about you…”

You felt small against her, and it wasn’t just due to her height. You could feel yourself shrinking into your own shame hearing her talk about your lover. Whatever doubts that sparked due to Mei’s burning statements were quickly turned to ash.

Yuki gave you a house tour and explained that Shoko was sharing a room with Mei and Utahime, while Satoru and Nanami bunked in another.

“If you’re comfortable you can stay in Suguru’s room. He kind of has his own bedroom from how often he’s stayed with me. If not, I’ve got a pull out sofa in my room,” Yuki informed, while you were trying your hardest to undo the tight knot in your belly.

Getting to know Yuki over the course of the two days only fed into your regret. You couldn’t help but watch her interactions with Suguru, only to conclude it was no different than how he behaved with Satoru and Shoko.

Even when he addressed her as “Kiki”, it came out with a level of comfort that felt a familial familiarity. If it wasn’t for Mei and her devious manipulation games, you would never have even have assumed that the pair were intimately involved with each other.

As your stubbornness started chipping away, you decided to at least try and make amends with your boyfriend.

On the first night, after getting ready for bed, you broke the long hours of silence by asking him where he was going after watching him get ready to leave the room that you both were supposed to be sharing.

“I’m staying with Satoru,” he curtly responded, and slammed the door behind him before you could get another word in.

Yesterday was painful to say the least. You attempted to sit down with him and Satoru for breakfast, but Suguru excused himself only a couple of minutes later. By mid-morning you texted to ask if he would like to join you and Shoko to walk around the village. You even brought up his favorite soba shop, but found yourself left on read.

His behavior was harsh and quite obvious. By lunchtime Shoko pulled you aside to ask if everything was okay.

“We’re fine,” you answered breathlessly, your worry sending tingles to the tips of your fingers and toes. “We got into a bit of an argument in the car, but we’ll talk things over”

Dinner last night was supposed to be a fun get together at one of the local omakase joints, but it turned into you and Suguru sitting on opposite sides of the table barely acknowledging each other.

You were trying to steal his glance, but he wouldn’t stop avoiding yours. Afterwards while all of you were standing outside, you found the courage to reach for Suguru’s hand to grab his attention.

“Hey,” you whispered low enough for only him to hear to avoid making it obvious to the others. Your heart fluttered when you noticed that Suguru didn’t let go of your hand, but instead pressed the pads of his fingers lightly against your palm to return the gesture.

Almost like he was saying hello.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” you asked, eyes hopeful and desperate. “It’s nice outside tonight, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t gauge what he was thinking, but you paid close attention to his reactions. Like the way his eyes dipped to your fingers slightly interlaced with his own, and how his digits were merely tracing yours in the most featherlight touch.

Did he miss you too?

“I’m going out with Yuki tonight,” he announced, his tone sharp and daring.

Your heart winced.

You weren’t used to this side of Suguru at all.

You let go of his hand, and nodded your head to feign acceptance but your throat was tight and tears were glazing over your woeful irises.

“Oh, okay!” you answered with as much confidence as you could muster up. “I guess…I guess I’ll see what Shoko is up to. And-”

Your voice cracked when Suguru let go of your hand. The emptiness a cold touch against your palm.

“I-I hope you guys have fun catching up tonight-“

Suguru nodded his head, taking your breath away for only a second when he leans forward to leave a chaste kiss on your brow. Not giving you a chance to finish your statement.

The gesture shatters you, because you know that it wasn’t genuine.

He was simply putting on a show, keeping up appearances so that the others don't suspect that something is wrong.

You cry yourself to sleep all alone in bed, all the while holding onto the hope that he might just show up to remind you that everything is okay.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You’re still staring out the window, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. Lost in the peaceful moment, you barely hear Suguru enter the bedroom, which is why you jump in shock when you suddenly notice a large hand press firmly against the glass by your side.

“It’s pouring, huh?”

His voice, smooth like velvet and soft like storm clouds sent a tremor of desire in your belly. You steadied the cup in your hand, sensing your body trapped between the window and your boyfriend who was now standing prominently right behind you.

“Yeah,” you whisper quietly, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.

You watch him tap his index finger against the glass, your gaze falling to the bracelet on his wrist. It was the other gift that you gave him on his birthday, and he hasn’t taken it off since. The rain patters outside, the white noise your safety barrier against the awkward tension, but you can feel it brewing behind your spine as you steady your breathing.

“Where did you stay last night?” you ask with a mousy voice, hoping that your tone wasn’t coming across as accusatory but simply concerned for wanting to check in on Suguru’s whereabouts.

“Yuki’s room, we were up late talking…” he responds gently, a hint of amusement in his voice but not one that was cruel. “She told me I could sleep on her pull out only after admitting that I’m acting like a little bitch…”

Your mouth naturally ticked into a smile at his playful tone, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip with relief from the casual delivery.

He huffs out a small laugh, "in case you're wondering, I just so happen to agree with her."

“It’s not just you,” you acknowledge, finding the courage to slowly spin on your heel so you can face him. “I started all of this…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been trying to fix it and I’ve been difficult about it…”

Your body crumples when your eyes met his, the power of his gaze forcing you to press your back against the window to stop yourself from buckling at the knees. His yearning matches yours, and the tension in your shoulders relaxes slightly when you note that he might have actually have been missing you too.

The ease in his expression is a white flag of surrender.

You place your tea cup on the table by your side. “I shouldn’t have let Mei get to me,” you admit, “I was caught off guard, and I took my anger out on you…”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” Suguru adds on, shaking his head in disbelief over his own decision. “I should have been upfront with you about Yuki from the star, I just-” He drops his hand away from the window to find yours, and takes both of them between his fingers. His thumb smooths over your knuckles, his grip firm and protective.

“I just didn’t want to give another reason not to trust me”

Your brows furrow with confusion, and Suguru sighs.

“My family were in a bind financially. Even though I got a full scholarship to univerisity, there still wasn’t enough money to put both Mimi and Nana through school. I've known Yuki since I was sixteen. She told me to spend the summers with her and hooked me up with well paying jobs ,” he explains solemnly, almost like he is ashamed by the situation entirely. “So, that’s what I did. Her mom never stayed during the summer break. And yeah, shit happened between us. We’d get high, fuck around, drink, party…but it was just…a release.  It didn’t mean anything else. I swear…”

“Mei said that you loved her,” you fill in, piecing together parts of your own personal indignation. “I think that’s what really got me. Especially when you didn’t tell me yourself. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the secrecy…”

Suguru scoffs, “Mei says that only because I went back summer after summer. I didn’t let anyone else know the real reason why. They had no fucking clue what was going on with me and my last summer with Yuki is when we decided to stop but I-I fucked it up…”

You could see the strain on Suguru’s face, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly to let him know that he could share whatever he needed to say.

“There was this girl that Yuki liked. I mean, really liked. She wouldn’t shut up about her. She was the reason why we stopped sleeping together. One night while we all went out, I got…carried away. I drank too much, I smoked too much, I wasn’t fucking thinking. I don’t even really remember what happened, but when I woke up the next morning…the girl was in my bed. When Yuki found us, she was…heartbroken. She didn’t speak to me for a year, and…I was devastated because her friendship means everything to me. She was the only person who knew how bad things were, and I returned the favor by…well, being myself, I guess…”

“Suguru, don’t say that…” you blurt out, your hands letting go of his as you eagerly clasp his jaw with equal protection. “I see you with your friends. You’re so loyal, and would give them everything if they asked. For somebody whose always so put together, what you did…is so out of character…”

He winced, his eyes narrowing with humiliation but it only taps into your empathy.

You bring his face closer, press your forehead to his own and notice him flutter his eyes close.

“You rarely talk about how hard it was with your family,” you mumble so close to his lips, keeping the conversation as private as possible even though it’s only the two of you in the room together. “I can’t even imagine the kind of pressure you must have been feeling. If you and Yuki are as close as you say are you, I’m sure she came around because she must have seen it too…”

His hands find your your bare waist. “She was the only one who could see it. Satoru, Shoko…it went over their heads…”

The quiet loops in right then, a rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. The hurt in Suguru's voice was loud and clear. The fact that he's always been there, but is so easily forgotten in the long run.

“I need to know,” Suguru confesses, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I need to know what else it’s going to take to get you to trust me because the odds are stacked up against me, sweetheart. And if I can’t make it happen, then I don’t have a single fucking shot at making us happen…”

The sting of regret burns your cheeks once more, and you extend your arms out to circle around your boyfriend’s neck. You want to kick yourself for making him doubt himself, especially after he working so incredibly hard to earn your favor.

“I swore I would never throw your past in your face. I’m so sorry that I did. You’re not the same guy that the people in your life paint you out to be, and I shouldn’t have let them try to convince me otherwise,”

You seal your apology with a small kiss to the corner of his lip, goosebumps pebbling your skin from Suguru’s thumbs tracing tiny streaks up and down your belly. “For whatever reason we don’t seem to make sense to anyone around us…”

When Suguru finds your eyes, you lose yourself into a dark abyss, sinking back into the depths of his soul.

“Is that how you feel too?” he questions seriously, “that we don’t make sense?”

You shake your head instantly to disregard the claim.

“Being with you is the only thing that I seem to understand, and I think that’s why I’m so scared to let you in,” you admit, the past forty eight hours of desperation formulating the next statement on the tip of your tongue. “I’m falling in love with you, Suguru. And-And I can’t seem to stop it from happening…”

Your breathless at the proclamation, your heart hammering so hard in your chest like it’s ready to burst out and bury itself into Suguru’s instead.

You watch your lover pull back slightly, his brows raise with astonishment.

“In love…” he breathes, like he can't believe the words himself, “with me?”

You nod your head, your hands roaming back to the front of his chest where you can feel his own stammering heart against your palm.

"Yeah, with you."

Suguru withers into your touch, his hand cradling your jaw as he dips in to press his mouth over yours. He parts his tongue to deepen the kiss, the weight of his body pushing yours into the surface, where behind you lightning bolts across the sky and grey clouds envelop you both in a shadowy cocoon.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You freely unravel, your joy sparking from the tips of your toe as to the top of your head knowing that your lover has chosen not to abandon you, knowing that you both are desperately seeking forgiveness.

You swear to yourself that it’ll never get this far again.

Suguru baptizes you with his kiss; it was a long reminder of your submission, of fully surrendering your feelings towards him. In between he moves your body, away from the glass and across the room, until you're pinned underneath him on the bed. He uses one hand to undo the wrap skirt around your waist, leaving you clad in your bikini to bathe under the light of his love instead.

His index finger loops around the string of your bikini top. He pulls away from the wet kiss, the tip of his nose lightly brushing your own, with the heat pooling in those dark irises enough to singe your skin.

“I’m not done with you,” he confirms, going back to the statement that ate away at you like a parasite. “Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

A lock of his hair brushes his brow, and you move it aside to kiss the space.

“Even if you were, I’m not willing to let you go that easily,” you counter because you need him to hear it. You need him to understand that you see what he’s put into this relationship and that you are more than willing to return the effort.

He smiles, and it’s devastatingly perfect it makes you want to scream at the heavens for allowing someone to be this beautiful.

“Still think I’m worth the trouble?”

Your fingers trace down the bridge of his nose, your heart gooey and soft in more ways than you can understand.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you, Sugu.”

His head tilts with curiosity, eyes drooping in contemplation. He doesn’t say it but you can hear him asking “are you sure?”, but his doubt is enough for you to seal the truth with a kiss, and when Suguru returns it, you’re once again dissolving in his affection.

Your limbs tangle into one another, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel every hard muscle. The bed sheet rumples, is lifted away from the corners as it gathers messily. Suguru’s hand glides up your torso, over the swell of your breasts, and he hooks his fingers around your throat to tilt your neck to the side and allowing him the access to kiss the column.

You thoughtfully sigh, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him sucking on your delicate flesh. He leaves a trail in his wake, and you shiver when his hot breath fans your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions in a hush tone, his voice dipping down an octave and sprinkled with desire.

You nod your head.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your body seizes, every single cell on fire. There’s a catch in your throat, and your thighs clench together nervously at the suggestion.

You tilt your head back to face him, your noses and lips bumping in the process. “I-I can do it for you-”

He interrupts you by shaking his head, his mouth carefully kissing your cupid’s bow. “You’ve gone down on me three times already…”

You can feel yourself soaking through your bottoms. A mixture of pleasure and shame heating your cheeks.

“But...what if-what if you don’t like it? I read somewhere that not all guys do...”

Suguru scoffs, baring his teeth as he gives you a full grin. He prods the tips of his nose onto yours, wiggling it teasingly from side to side.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he confesses before adding, “I promise you, I’ll like it”

Your heart is beating so fast you can’t think, but your body speaks another language as your thighs naturally spread a little wider to invite him in.

“Okay, yeah-” you consent, “yeah, you can…”

He smirks, his hands tracing to the strings of your bottoms. You lift your hips, watching him shimmy the fabric down your legs. He stuffs the material in his back pocket, his palms spreading your inner thighs apart.

You sit yourself up on your forearms to study your boyfriend with intrigue.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty…” he sighs, his attention focused on the triangle between your legs, and your belly flutters at the direct compliment.

He doesn’t move for a second, his hands adding the slightest bit of pressure on the meat of your thighs. He licks his lips and breathes out once more, taking just a second to compose himself.

“It’ll only feel good, no pain,” he informs, “but if it’s too much for you, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Your hips relax further into the mattress, his assurance easing some of your apprehension. Your boyfriend knows how sensitive you are at this point, but you nod your in head in acknowledgement while gratefully appreciating that he regards you with such consideration.

He kisses up the apex of your thigh, carefully avoiding your sex to find a path to you hips. His tongue is sof and warm, tasting every part of your skin as it travels across your lower belly and further down your pubis. You gasp at the sensation of his breath so close to your cunt, your calf twitching when he finally places a gentle kiss on your lips.

And another kiss.

And another kiss.

And a fourth until your toes curl and he finally flattens his tongue along the slit.

“Oh,” you coo, the sensation so delicate and delicious. Suguru drags his love between your folds, up and down, and side to decide, his mouth circling around each lip as he sucks on them in between returning to glide his tongue around.

Your legs clasp around his neck, your heels resting comfortably on his back. The sound of Suguru sucking and licking up your pussy reverberates along with the storm outside. He reaches one arm to find your hand, and you intertwine your fingers to hold him tightly. His other hand slithers up your torso, and slips underneath your bikini top. He pushes the fabric above your breast, his thumb and index finger finding your tender nipple which he massages steadily as his uses his mouth to pleasure you.

The sensation builds, filters throughout your body in waves that roll over and over again. You squeak when he sucks on your clit, your heels pressing into his back but the weight of his body holds you in place to keep you from wandering away.

Your brows furrow, little tremors shaking your collar bones and your belly. “Suguru,” you whine sweetly, a moan following after when he pinches your nipple and nibbles on your clit. He lets go of your hand, his touch traveling down to your legs. He spreads your pussy, giving himself more access to bury his soft tongue deeper, further, to taste more of your nectar as it dribbles down his chest like he’s biting into fruit.

He groans into your cunt.

He grazes his tongue over your weeping hole, and your body thrashes with anguish and rapture. Your eyes spark in white, glittering like the lightning as it bursts and recedes into the ceiling above you. The band in your core is a tight spring that finally unfurls quickly and quite suddenly, your orgasm unfolding throughout your stuttering body.

“Oh, god…” you cry out, your back arching as Suguru keeps his mouth over your cunt, his hand holding you down by your lower body.

You gasp, panting heavily trying to cope with the aftermath. You think that Suguru might stop, but instead you feel him paint kisses all over your sex, rolling your nipple between his finger and moving to suck on your throbbing clit.

“Sugu?” you call out, your spine shuddering.

“Hmm?” he answers, his tongue massaging across the bud.

“You’re still…” you whimper, “you’re still going?”

He releases you with a pop, blowing air over the swollen bud before smiling into another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I can keep going”

Suguru only manages to keep his word by delivering another orgasm with his mouth buried against your cunt. You had tears in your eyes when you came, panting out “no more” with desperation because you couldn’t handle the detachment you were feeling in your own skin.

It feels so fucking good, but all too much at the same time.

Suguru doesn’t push. He won’t test his boundaries right now. Not when you’re just a vulnerable kitten in his eyes. No, the stamina will require time and patience, and for you to get used to him in the bedroom as well.

His disappointments sits between his brows when he pulls away, his hand smoothing over the curve of your pelvis as he kisses your hip and lower belly. He crawls over you like a panther, his shoulder blades rising with each calculative moment. You can smell yourself against his lips, savor your own arousal when he dips in for a kiss.

“Taste like heaven, baby girl,” he mumbles, his balmy words running over your skin like hot oil. “I could eat you out all night…”

He traces the column of your neck with his lips, and grins into your skin. You’re too shy to say anything, and he knows it. He presses his mouth against your neck, pecking over the marks that he’s imprinted.

Your hands fumble to reach for his jeans, your body desperate to do something for him too but Suguru grabs your wrists and pins them to your side before standing upright and undoing his jeans himself.

“Relax,” he insists.

Your eyes fall to his large hands undoing the button, and then unzipping the front of his pants. His grey boxers have a noticeable wet spot, and your pupils dilate when he pulls his dick out for you to see.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He pumps his cock a few times, sighing heavily as his thumb runs over the slit. To your surprise he shifts his position, and adjusts himself until he’s perfectly aligned with you.

He taps the fat, mushroom head over your clit. “You just open up for me, don’t you?” he whispers deviously, “Let’s practice…”

He slides his dick back and forth over your slit, supports his movements by holding both your knees as he grinds his length against your cunt.

“See how far I’ll stretch you out?” he mumbles, eyes hazy with hunger. “See how deep I’ll go?”

He slides his hands up and down your thighs, rocking back and forth and using you for friction. Soft grunts and moans escape him, and in between he halts for only a second when your quivering hand finds his length. His hips stutter when you start to lightly jack him off, your thumb teasing over the head.

Your eyes fall close, imagine the burn of him spreading you apart, of him making love to your body as you mold into his frame. To feel him in all his glory, for your bodies to become.

The image is raw, vulnerable, and so, so perfect.

There is nobody else you would rather give yourself too.

Suguru is the one.

“I can’t wait,” you beg dreamily, “Need you inside me, I can’t wait-”

His grip on you tightens out of surprise upon hearing your words, and he suddenly thrusts harshly as he curses out a broken “fuck”. Ribbons of white spurt out of him, painting your belly and tainting parts of your chest.

The both of you freeze as you look down, caught off guard by what just happened.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

Suguru cleaned you up using a wet towel to wipe his cum off your belly and chest. You discarded your bikini top afterwards while he removed his jeans, with the two of you then choosing to snuggle up against one another under the sheet.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Suguru confesses, finally breaking the silence. There was a slight blush tinting his cheek bones, and you giggle as you cradle his face in your palm and trace the shade of red.

“You’re usually so in control,” you playfully remark, and Suguru simply rolls his eyes.

“Not with you, I’m not,” he admits, his arm clenching around your waist as he closes the gap of space to tuck you into his chest.

You breathe in his scent, nuzzling your nose into the fabric of his tee.

"I'm glad we're okay now."

"I am too"

You curl your fingers around his shirt. “On your birthday, and just now…we could’ve…just gone all the way. You could’ve just-”

“Not here,” Suguru states seriously, the intensity in his voice prompting you to tilt your chin up and meet his stare. He plays with your ear, traces the shell thoughtfully before gently tugging on your lobe.

The butterflies flutter once again, your irises tinting in pink. You lean forward to kiss the sharp angle of his jaw.

“What was it like for you? Your first time?”

Suguru sighs, and purses his lips as he contemplates the memory. “Yuki was good to me, and it was nice,” he admits, but you’re entranced with the way he holds your gaze. “I sure as hell wasn’t as nervous as I am now…”

“Is that why you keep holding back?” you question innocently, apropping yourself on your elbow to rest your head on your hand. The bed sheet falling and exposing your chest.

Suguru’s eyes fall, his touch tracing the slope to outline the curve of your breast. “Do you want your first time to happen after a petty argument?”

You pout your lips with amusement. “Does it matter?”

“You’re not the only one who might be in love, sweetheart,” he responds, his words greeting the shining sun peeking through the clouds. “Of course it matters.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

tags: @sellenite @kiwibao @allofffmypeaches @sugurussbby @kunigamisbaby @pandoraium @brownskinnedgirll

my works are available on tumblr and ao3 - any fics reposted on other platforms or other Tumblr blogs have been plagiarized. do not share my works on social media (tiktok etc.) © peachsayshi 

[yumigguk]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲| 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

summary: After finding out that you slept at Taehyung's house, a fire is burning inside him.

pairing: fwb!jungkook × reader

genre: smut, angst

description: college!au; f2l. Memories of your own involvement with Jungkook resurface, and you realize that maybe those feelings you've suppressed for so long are stronger than you thought.

warnings: intercourse, exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, degrading names, spanking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spit, d/s themes, ass play

words: 4k

Jeon Jungkook and you have been involved in this situation for more than four months. He's always there for you when you need someone, and you are there for him when he needs someone. But it's much more than that. Both of you are in the same group of friends, yet nobody knows the dirty secrets that you both keep.

This happened after you moped around following your breakup. From the moment he stepped in, there was an air of comfort and protection that surrounded him. He had a natural charisma that drew people in, but it was his unwavering support and presence that truly set him apart.

Whenever you needed someone to talk to, Jungkook was there, listening attentively to your every word. He offered a shoulder to lean on and a warm, reassuring smile that seemed to say, "I'm here for you." You couldn't help but notice the way he made you feel safe, like nothing could harm you as long as he was around.

Jungkook's gestures spoke volumes, though you remained oblivious to their romantic undertones. He would always walk on the side of the sidewalk closer to traffic, subtly shielding you from any potential danger. He'd insist on driving you home, no matter the distance, just to make sure you arrived safely. And his protective nature extended to small things too, like offering you his jacket when the evening air turned chilly.

His scent was another clue to his feelings. Jungkook always smelled amazing, his cologne lingering in the air after he left. It was a fragrance that seemed to envelop you in a comforting embrace, yet you didn't fully understand the significance of this lingering scent.

After a short time, you realize what a douchebag your ex-boyfriend was, and during your angry phase, you confessed that he wasn't even able to satisfy you. You think this might have railed him up because you ended bend over with a finger in your ass, screaming so hard that the whole neighbourhood heard.

It is clear to everyone that you and he grow closer when they find the two of you together in different places. For example, Jimin saw you and Jungkook at McDonald's, or your best friend, Han Soo, saw you and Jungkook studying at the library. Hoseok always seems to bump into both of you in the hallways. You deny that you and Jeon Jungkook have something going on in front of everyone because you both know things would be weird if your friends found out.

Thinking about your friends, you can't believe that you and Taehyung had so many drinks last night that your head still hurts. You received messages from Jeon, but you saw them in the morning while rushing to catch the bus to college and letting Taehyung snore:

"Han Soo told me you are alone at Taehyung's place. Be responsible and don't drink too much."

"Why don't you reply?"

"Want me to drive you home?"

"Y/N???"

"Whatever, enjoy your time with Taehyung.

Rereading the messages during your boring lecture, you reply with, 'I took the bus, but thank you.' After a short time, he responds with, 'Come to my car after.' You didn't know why, and you didn't reply because he knew that you would do what he told you.

When the lecture is finally over, you navigate through the crowd. Upon reaching the parking lot, you spot Jungkook's car. As you get closer, you notice that the windows are open, and Jungkook is blowing a cigarette, looking like a mad man. You get into the car, confusion evident on your face. 'Hi?' Your eyes focus on his lips, then his torso. You can't deny his attractiveness; he's built like a god, and seeing him smoke always heats you up. He's wearing a black oversized t-shirt, and he smells so good that it instantly flusters you, reminding you that sometimes you smell like him too. You find attractive perfume mixed with the scent of a cigarette.

“Wouldn't you care to explain why you slept at another man's place last night?" Jungkook says, looking outside the window as his body tenses in the car seat. You didn't know how to react because it's the first time he asked you these kinds of questions. You both discussed that you are not exclusive and have been defensive about catching feelings. "So?" he says again, much more stiffly than before, looking at you now as he raises an eyebrow.

“When you say 'other man,' you mean Taehyung?" You said, laughing in his face. "Why are you so serious about it, Jeon? Are you jealous?" Now you are looking into his eyes with a smile on your lips. "You agreed that it's not exclusive. You agreed." And this holds a lot of meaning because you don't sleep with other people, and you only want him. You are definitely jealous that he makes other women feel the same way he makes you feel. Your eyes appear cold to him.

He scoffs, "Oh, so you wouldn't mind if you saw me with another woman, right?" He smirks, and his gaze darkens as you feel he's challenging you. "Fine, you're right. We aren't exclusive, baby," he mocks, but the feeling you get is that he's not saying what he wanted to in the first place. A feeling of nausea washes over your body, making you feel sick.

"No, Jeon, why would I mind seeing you with another woman? I already told you we aren't exclusive." It feels like a game right now, and you feel a hole in your stomach when you say it because you wouldn't find it pleasing to see Jungkook with another woman. But the truth is that you both agreed that this relationship is no-strings-attached. Seeing that Jungkook has no reply to what you just said, he looks outside the window again and lights another cigarette. "Can you drive me home now?" you ask him, feeling the tension in the air.

He throws away the cigarette. “As you wish, babe," he says, but you're not sure if it's about exclusivity or driving you home. Then he starts the car.

The way home is quiet and tense, and you can't understand his attitude. What's wrong with sleeping at your childhood friend's house, who's also his friend? And why is it okay for him to see other women? The car stops, and he opens the door for you. "See you tonight," looking away from you, avoiding your gaze.

"See you," you whisper, knowing damn well he heard you. You close the door and walk away from the car. As usual, Jungkook doesn't leave until he sees you safely enter the building.

Tonight is Friday night, and you and your friends always go to the club to celebrate the weekend like some college freaks.

You've dressed yourself up with a short skirt and a top that flatters your chest, wearing makeup and cologne that could make any man kneel.

“Y/N, you look gorgeous” your friend Han Soo compliments you. “You're divine. You're going to catch every man's eye in the club. Hope you finally get laid tonight.” You hate lying to her, but you know your situation with Jungkook is unstable, and after the talk you two had today, you don't plan on telling her anytime soon.

After arriving at the club, you and Jungkook don't even look at each other. How immature from both of you. The music is loud, the lights are flashing, and the atmosphere is electric.

As the night progresses, after a few drink with Jimin and talking about politics “Fuck socialism” Jimin laughs.

You notice Jungkook chatting and dancing with an attractive girl, she’s grinding on him like there’s no tomorrow. You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy deep inside you. He’s grabbing her hair, whispering in her ears.

Memories of your own involvement with Jungkook resurface, and you realize that maybe those feelings you've suppressed for so long are stronger than you thought.

Seeing Jungkook with another woman stirs a mix of emotions within you—jealousy, longing, and confusion.

You watch them together, and it's clear that he's trying to make you jealous. His subtle glances in your direction and the way he touches the girl suggest that he knows you're watching. Your heart races, and it becomes increasingly difficult to deny your feelings for him.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You turn to Taehyung. "Taehyung, want to dance?" you ask without showing emotion. "Sure, let's do it," he says excitedly. You know he's drunk, and you remember that he once confessed his attraction to you when he was inebriated. You try to forget about it because he never laid a finger on you, showing that he values your friendship.

As you move to the dance floor with Taehyung, you can't help but glance back at Jungkook and the girl he's with. Your intention is clear—you want to make Jungkook jealous, just as he seemed to want to do to you earlier. As you and Taehyung dance, you can feel Jungkook's eyes on you. The tension between you and him becomes palpable, and it's clear that the unspoken emotions you both have been avoiding are coming to the surface.

You grind your hips on Taehyung, your mouth slightly parted but with a smile on your lips. "Are you drunk?" he asks, worried as you feel him getting aroused. "Shut up, Tae. It's just one dance.”

In that moment, the club's pounding music and swirling lights fade into the background, and it's just you, Jungkook, and the complicated feelings you've been trying to ignore for so long. The dance floor becomes a battleground of unspoken emotions.

You excuse yourself and make your way to the bathroom, leaving Taehyung on the dance floor without a word. In the quiet moments alone, your heart throbs with jealousy after witnessing Jungkook with yet another one of his many girls.

You shouldn't be jealous, but now you confess to yourself that you truly are. When you exit the bathroom, your heart still heavy with envy over seeing Jungkook with one of his many girls, you search for Han Soo to excuse yourself and make a hasty exit, planning to offer a vague excuse about not feeling well.

As you scan the crowd, you unexpectedly come across Taehyung, who had been looking for you. You explain to him that you're not feeling well and that you'd like to head home early.

Taehyung, concerned, asks, "Is it because of the dance?" He covers his face with his palms, seemingly regretful. "Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfort-"

You quickly interrupt him, "Taehyung, don't worry, I really feel sick. It had nothing to do with you. I initiated the dance."

He removes his hands from his face and says, "I'm going to call a cab for us." He starts searching for his phone.

“You don’t need to-“ before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook suddenly appears next to you. Taehyung acknowledges his presence and says, "Hey, man, I'm going to take Y/N home now. She's not feeling well. Tell others that we are leaving."

Jungkook scoffs at Taehyung's words and responds curtly, "Not feeling well, huh? Don't worry then. I'll take her home myself. You can enjoy the rest of the party." His eyes appear flat and emotionless, a stark contrast to his seemingly rude tone.

Without waiting for Taehyung's response, Jungkook grabs your hand, and the two of you swiftly disappear from the scene, leaving Taehyung without a chance to react.

Little did you know, this night would bring unexpected emotions to the surface. Still shocked, you get in the car without saying anything.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with anger. You both had just witnessed each other dancing with other people at the club, and the realization that jealousy ran deep within both of you had shaken the foundation of your friendship.

"Fuck, can't believe you were dancing with him, Y/N. You’re playing with my patience” you’ve never seen him that angry.

"Well, you weren't exactly innocent, Jungkook. Your pretty little girlfriend was rubbing her ass against you the whole night.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned his gaze to the road ahead, his anger palpable." Didn’t you say that you were okay with me seeing other women? Are you jealous? Say it.”

"I didn't expect you to be fucking her through clothes, Jungkook. Fuck you, you are the one who’s jealous.”

The car was filled with silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the night. Both of you were wrestling with the realization that your feelings ran deeper than you had ever acknowledged. The tension in the car was unbearable as you both grappled with the newfound emotions that had surfaced. The truth was, you both felt more than just friendship, but neither of you had been willing to admit it until that jealous night at the club.

Jungkook pulled over his car without saying a word. "What the heck? What are you doing?" You asked, a mix of anger and confusion in your voice.

"Get in the back," he said sternly. You complied, thinking for a moment that maybe the two of you were going to clarify everything that had happened tonight and sort out the mixed feelings that had arisen.

Once you were both in the back seat, he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap. He roughly grasped your chin, looking into your eyes you can see his eyes are darker, full of anger. Without a word, he cupped your face with his hands, his touch demanding and intense.

His lips crashed into yours, a rough collision of longing and frustration. It was a kiss that held a multitude of unspoken words, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between friendship and something more. His mouth moved forcefully against yours, as if trying to claim you, and your response was equally fierce.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you tasted the raw desire in his kiss. It was a passionate, almost primal exchange, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings you had both kept buried for far too long.

As your lips finally parted, both of you were left breathless, and the car seemed to hold its breath too, as if aware of the uncharted territory you had just ventured into.

"I can't believe I saw you with someone else tonight," he confessed, his jealousy undeniable. "That kiss... it drove me crazy, Y/N."

His words carried the weight of realization, acknowledging the jealousy that had flared up within him after our passionate kiss. It was a moment of vulnerability, and we both knew that things between us had shifted in a way that couldn't be ignored.

Bringing his hand underneath your skirt, his index finger to your clothed sex to gently rub all over your clit. The aftermath of that intense kiss left you feeling undeniably aroused. “Did you get that aroused from dancing with Taehyung?” He chuckles.

“Fuck off” you growl out and he slaps your right asscheek, you yelp at the pleasurable pain.

“Smart mouth, huh? I will fuck the smartness away, whore”. His fingers find their way into your core and you gasp in surprise. “Not that feisty anymore”

“Jungkook-“ your walls clenched around his fingers and he hums as he plays with his lip piercing.

“What, baby? What do my little whore wants?” he purrs, a cocky smirk spreading across his face as his fingers move faster as he wraps your hair around in a pony tail.

“Please” you plead, the unspoken tension between you two had finally erupted into the open, leaving you with an undeniable craving for Jungkook.

“Please, what?” he asks with a mixture of trepidation and desire.

“Please, finger fuck me faster” getting flustered and wetter than ever, you realized that you were always submissive to him

“Ohh, that’s my good whore. Getting this whiny only from my fingers. Moan for how long you want, bitch, you know it doesn’t even compare to what my dick feels” each word hung in the charged air, heavy with anticipation, your heart racing from the abused g-spot.

“I’m gonna cum, please” you say with trembling lips and a racing heart, screw-in your eyes shut at the feeling of him pumping his fingers.

“Cum, dumb slut, cum on my fingers”He says raspy, and you can feel the burning sensation in your stomach intensifying as he curls his fingers.

"You got the real man at home now, whore. I'm going to slide in and out of your holes slowly and torture you with pleasure.“ he says raspy with a cocky smile as he tugs his pants down his legs.

Your heart raced, and your breaths came in shallow, heated gasps. The taste of Jungkook still lingered on your lips, a heady mix of desire and longing that pulsed through my veins.

You feel the head of his dick brushing his head along your sensitive clit. “You were acting like a slut earlier so you should be fucked like one. Am I right?”

“Yes” you admitt with no shame as you feel him positioning himself at your entrance. Humming in satisfaction, spits in his hand and spreads it all over cock before he slowly begins to penetrate you.

You gasp at the feeling of his bare dick, feeling it sink into you stretching your walls.

“Feels good to finally have a thick cock stretching you and hitting deep, doesn't it?" He fucks you from the bottom, cock burried deep into your cunt. You moan and clench him so hard that you’re making him shut his eyes.

His hips snapping until the meet your ass as he continues to fucking himself in and out of your sloppy cunt, you are a moaning mess.

“You can't lie to me, cockslut. I know that’s what you wanted, being fucked in the car while car are passing, making everyone see that you belong to me”

“Fuck, yes, make me yours” he grunts at your words, his thrusts animalistic as he grabs your neck.

“This cunt is mine. Mine to touch. Mind to kiss. Mine to fuck. You got it?”Jungkook askes, chuckling as he tightens his grip around your neck

“Only yours.” He delivers a harsh thrust at your words and all you could to is to moan.

He pants, pounding into you as he puts his thumb to circle your clit.

“Let me cum, please” you beg and feeling of his cock brushing against your walls is too much, hitting your g-spot in a way that made you see stars.

“Cum on it. Show me that I’m yours” The overstimulation is way too much and it makes you feel every nerve inside. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm as you sob underneath him.

“Jungkook” you sob, tears falling on your cheeks and his trusts start getting sloppy. It doesn’t take long for him to shoot his load inside of you. He grunts animalistically, his vice-like grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, I love having you as my whore". After a few more lazy thrusts, continuously fucking his load into you, he comes to a full stop. He pulls out and rests his head.

It was a silence pregnant with possibility, a moment when the uncharted territory of our feelings lay before us, waiting to be explored. In that silence, a thousand unspoken words hung in the air, their weight almost tangible. It was a moment of raw vulnerability and a newfound awareness of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

It has been a week since the car encounter you had with Jungkook. That week without Jungkook had felt like an eternity, each passing day heavier than the last.

At first, there was a lingering sense of confusion and uncertainty that left a knot in your stomach. Why had he skipped classes? Why hadn't he replied to your texts?

As the days went by, those feelings of confusion morphed into a deep, gnawing sadness.

You found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message from him that never came. It was like waiting for a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty, but all you received was silence.

The empty seat next to you in class seemed to taunt you, a stark reminder of his absence. Your usual conversations and shared laughter were replaced by a hollow ache. You missed his presence, the way he made you feel safe and understood.

Nights were the hardest.

In the quiet darkness, your thoughts were consumed by questions and doubts. Had you done something wrong? Was he avoiding you intentionally? The weight of those unspoken questions pressed down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Loneliness settled in like an unwelcome guest, and you found yourself yearning for his company more than ever.

The world felt dull and gray without him, and every day without his smile, his laughter, and his presence felt like a never-ending storm.

But amidst the sadness, there was a glimmer of hope. The memory of that jealousy sex in the car, the unspoken desire between you two, gave you a flicker of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, this tumultuous week would lead to something more, something that would make the wait worthwhile.

You spotted Jungkook at the end of the bustling college hallway, and your heart did a somersault. Your emotions were a whirlwind of confusion, uncertainty, and a longing that was becoming harder to ignore.

As you approached him, you could feel the tension in the air, like a thick fog surrounding both of you. You tried to read his expression, but his face was a mask of indecipherable emotions.

"Jungkook," you greeted him tentatively. He looked up, and his eyes met yours. For a moment, it felt like the world around you had faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment.

"Hey," he replied, his voice a mixture of nerves and desire. The silence that followed was deafening. You both stood there, caught in a web of unspoken feelings. It was clear that he was just as confused as you were, yet there was an undeniable magnetic pull drawing you closer.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice trembling slightly, "I've been thinking about that night, Y/N. About us."

Your heart skipped a beat as you waited for him to continue, your emotions on edge.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his eyes locked onto yours. "I want to be with you, Y/N."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you could feel the intensity of his desire. It was a confession that left you breathless and aching for more. "I've been so confused, too," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to be with you too, Jungkook."

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, and it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

In that moment, surrounded by the bustling college hallway and the curious gazes of passing students, you both knew that something had shifted. The uncharted territory you had ventured into was no longer a mystery but a path you were both willing to explore together.

…….

Thank u everyone for the support, I know it’s short but hope u all enjoy it. Also, English isn’t my first language so pls forgive me 😔😔. Asks open.

Tag list: @nays2112 @gxtwllsn @iluvhueningkai @canyon-lwt @kaiparkerwifes @thelilbutifulthings @omgwolfie @grltwin @armystay89

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 1. Captive of your desires

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: choking and death threats

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— A/N: I couldn't resist. I had to write more for him. Reader, I love him. This fic might go a little wild, because I want to play into this naughty boy's love for pain. Expect some subby Feyd, some inkpies, generally a messed up dynamic with an equally messed up reader. Hope you enjoy, my lovelies! 🖤

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty. — Bene Gesserit Coda

House Harkonnen fell upon Arrakis like a hammer — with a deafening crash and destructive reverberation. After the palace was ransacked and the most important figures murdered, their bodies piled high and set alight, the stragglers were hunted through the streets and homes of Arrakeen. There was a week of slaughter. By the end, nothing moved. All spice production had ceased. Then the violence left the city and spread out into the desert, and the whole hemisphere of the planet was captured.

Arrakeen sat near the northern pole, on thick bedrock surrounded by natural fortifications that protected it from worm attacks. It was a difficult place to escape from. Those who remained were understood to be loyal to the Harkonnens, or at least indifferent to who held the power. The Atreides rule had been brief enough to not have garnered that many supporters. Only the rumour of their goodness and grace had been planted, and the Harkonnens returned before those could take root.

There can be said to have been a second Harkonnen takeover once Feyd-Rautha arrived. The Baron’s youngest nephew. Word was spread — or rather, been carefully planted — that he was the kinder, gentler of the Harkonnen brothers. The people greeted him like a saviour. Inside the palace, the atmosphere was more subdued.

It was a stark contrast to the transition from when Rabban came to power. No mass killings, no ransacking of rooms, just an orderly takeover through which the cold and calculating presence of Feyd-Rautha flowed. Furniture was rearranged. Staff was brought in from Giedi Prime. Brand new equipment arrived, especially for the spice harvesters.

The message was clear. The new planetary governor was thorough and exacting. Most of those in the palace breathed a sigh of relief, but there was at least one breath that stuttered.

She was there at his arrival, watching from a distance together with the throng of Arrakeen locals, Fremen and others, who gathered to see the procession. It was early in the morning, just before sunrise. He walked differently than other Harkonnen she’d seen. Rabban stomped through like a bull. The servants grovelled. The Baron was so fat he had to be suspended in the air. But this one, this one strolled through with confidence. Sleek and slender, he was beautiful in an inhuman way. That much she could make out from a distance.

He struck out at Fremen sietches on his very first day, using artillery fire and on-the-ground troops. An old way of doing things, but effective. It painted the new governor as precise, determined, and strangely honourable, and then word spread around the palace that he’d struck his own brother to the ground and made him kiss his feet. The word ‘humiliation’ was uttered. The news sewed a sliver of hope in the hearts of the longsuffering palace staff.

She had evaded close contact with the Harkonnens until then. It only made sense, as she was in hiding, slipping through the cracks of their negligence until she could procure safe passage off-planet, but that was getting more difficult by the day. What they lacked in caution, they made up for in paranoia, and all comings and goings were kept behind esoteric layers of bureaucracy. She was in the process of making contact with a smuggler when Feyd-Rautha gained governorship of the planet, and all her hopes were dashed.

It was the evening of his second day on the planet when she was called. The servant that summoned her looked at her like she was an apparition — which, in a way, she was. She had managed to remain undetected, keeping herself busy, staying out of sight, acting like she was meant to be there. She’d become part of the scenery and could dispel suspicion if anyone got too close. Her Bene Gesserit training was good for that if nothing else. But there was no escaping this. Somebody had finally found her and knew exactly where she was.

She followed the servant — a heavily armed pasty-white figure, crooked and willowy — to the chamber door of what she knew to be the largest office of the governor. He opened it for her, pushed her in, and locked the door behind her.

Like a tiny sun, a glowglobe floated through the room, its light falling on the smooth black surfaces of the furniture and the pale stone of the walls. She folded her hands before her, hidden by the long sleeves of her dress, and followed what the light revealed. The room was large and windowless, stripped bare of any useless item. The table was empty, the chairs were in their place, and upon the plinths set in the corners, no potted plants or works of art stood. Only one thing moved there, together with the light. Feyd-Rautha paced slowly, quietly, on the other side of the room.

“My lord na-Baron,” she said in a smooth and submissive voice. Her knees bent in a slight curtsy — respectful, but not too much. “You summoned me.”

She wore a garb that didn’t belong to any particular function. The long black dress would have fit just as well in the kitchens as in the cleaning staff, and the head covering was suited for the Arrakis weather, worn by any female. All of those with hair, anyway. The light material bent around her, giving her a slightly oval shape, soft and harmless. But when she looked up and caught the na-Baron’s gaze, he would have seen a sharper look there than that of any servant.

His eyes were cunning too. They looked upon her knowingly and with amusement, a strange manner for a Harkonnen.

“Who are you?” he asked with a playful squint.

His voice scratched across her skin like kitten claws. He didn’t sound the way he looked, and she admitted it surprised her. His tone, nevertheless, was gentle. Deceitfully kind. He could kill me in an instant, she thought, and take pleasure from it.

“My lord, I —”

“You were not on Rabban’s stafflist. I know that, because he didn’t have one. And you’re not on mine, because I didn’t ask for you. We have as of today an account of all the palace workers, but the list comes up with one extra room unaccounted for.”

Nights in Arrakeen were cold, but her skin just turned colder. What rotten luck, to be in the palace right when they decided to actually investigate who worked there and did what. It’s my own fault, she said to herself. I relied on their incompetence for far too long. Now I pay the price. So be it.

“I have been a servant in this palace for many years, my lord na-Baron,” she said with a slow bow of her head. “And I wish to serve you as well.”

“Is that so?” he purred, coming closer. His steps were lazy, but the pace was measured. He had more control over his body than his playful swagger let on. “Many years, you say? You worked for the Atreides, then?”

“And for Count Fenring before them.”

He stopped. She looked up at him from underneath her lashes and smiled in quiet satisfaction. Lady Fenring was a skilled Bene Gesserit sister and had lived in Arrakeen with her husband for many years before the Atreides decided on it for their capital. She was the most logical choice as a secret envoy to the Harkonnen heir. And if Feyd-Rautha met her, it could only mean one thing.

Uroshnor, she thought. He’s likely been imprinted with the usual prana-bindu phrase. It would stun him, if only for a moment. But long enough… It didn’t provide her a means of escape, but it gave her hope. It gave her room for manoeuvre.

“I am not a spy,” she said, straightening her back.

“Of course, a spy would say that.”

“You may test me in any way you wish,” she said with a playful chuckle.

Feyd’s eyes darkened at her proposition, a smile bending his full lips as he stepped closer. Oh, he could think of many ways to test her…

“What are you, then?” he asked, his voice scratching low and close as he stopped close enough to touch.

She could see now that his eyes were a clear blue. Not the sort of blue brought on by long-term spice exposure, that dark electric shade, but blue like water, like the sky, like a shard of ice. His jawline was firm — that of a biter. But his lips were pillow-soft and curled around the edges in a smile that wouldn’t go away. Lips made for laughing, made for kissing, made for love. He’s such a delicate boy. The thought ran through her mind before she realised.

“I served the Lady Fenring as a housekeeper,” she said.

“Lies.”

“My lord?”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? A damn witch.”

She remained completely still, her eyes locked on his. He was trying to dominate her with a hard incessant glare, but she held his gaze merely for the pleasure of it. What a comforting colour they were on such a harsh planet… No matter the malice behind them.

“You’re a Bene Gesserit. I’ve met your kind before,” he continued, looking down her body in a cruel, suggestive way. “You hold yourselves the way no other women do.”

“Perpans not like Harkonnen women.”

He chuckled, the sound scraping up his slender neck. “All women in the known universe are the same, given the right circumstances.”

“But not the Bene Gesserit.”

“Yes, not you,” he sighed, head tilting as if his mind was trying to escape a painful memory.

His eyes stayed upon her figure, trailing down the contours of her dress. Then he reached out a hand and touched it, his fingers tracing a silky pleat so lightly that it barely moved. She felt it still, the slight disturbance his caresses caused, but willed her body to stay motionless. There was no trace of aggression in him now.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“You have not dismissed me, my lord na-Baron.”

He chuckled faintly. “I mean on Arrakis.”

“I wish to remain in the palace.”

“Why?”

“The deserts are harsh.”

“Many prefer that to serving a Harkonnen.”

“One master is as good as another.”

“I’m sure it must’ve felt like that to you,” he said, looking her in the eye again. His fingers left her dress and went to rest upon the hilt of a dagger at his belt. “So I take it you were one of Lady Fenring’s servants. A… fellow sister, would you call it?”

“I was part of her staff, yes.”

“And you didn’t leave with her and the Count when the Atreides came?”

“I remained behind to assist with training their staff,” she said with a bow of her head. Even now she retained a certain respect for that dead House.

“And Lady Fenring,” he hissed, the name dripping from his mouth like poison, “she never wanted to retrieve you?”

“I believe they think me dead.”

“Yes, she is not the sentimental sort,” he chuckled, and his cold gaze caught hers.

A dangerous thought was taking root behind those eyes, she could see it germinating. She waited, reading his body, scanning the minute changes in his expression, and tried to determine what went on behind that pallid mask.

There was envy there, and regret, and longing. The Harkonnens never kept Bene Gesserit truthsayers, nor were there any among the Baron’s concubines — all of them were young boys anyway. They were unique among the Great Houses in that way, and although she knew that Feyd’s mother had been a Bene Gesserit herself, he probably didn’t know what it was like to be raised by one. Why else would he be looking at her now as if he wanted to peel her clothes away, and then her skin, and reach toward her heart and grab it?

“How can I help my na-Baron?” she asked, her voice a whisper, her gaze a caress.

“By not getting above yourself,” he rasped with the air of slapping her offer away.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she bowed her head to hide her terror. Did I read him wrongly? she thought to herself. I must not fear.

“House Harkonnen has no use for witches,” said Feyd.

She felt his strong hand grip her shoulder, slipping past the veil to curl around her neck. He stayed there, holding her in a half-choke just firm enough to feel her heartbeat in the palm of his hand.

“I ought to kill you,” he said sweetly, “and feed you to my darlings.”

Her lips parted, swelling slightly, and she felt her face go pale. The little death takes on a whole new meaning, she thought with grim amusement.

“But I do want to know one thing…”

“Yes, my na-Baron?” she asked in a shaky voice.

He breathed in sharply at the sound of it. He liked it. When she looked up into his eyes again, the grip around her throat felt not so much murderous anymore as it did greedy, possessive.

“I want to know… Do you have one of those pain boxes too?”

[azrielbrainrot]

Mind Over Matter

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Eris sees you at your lowest and you get a glimpse behind the mask.

Warnings: Angst, Domestic Violence, Injury

Word Count: 3550

Notes: In case it's confusing this is set before Fire on Fire. Hope you enjoy!

Fire on Fire Masterlist

The forest looked beautiful today. The red and orange leaves cast shadows over the whole clearing, and from the tree branch you were sitting at, you could see the birds flying and even some bunnies hopping around the bushes. It had been raining all week but it finally let up this morning, the sun was now shining high in the sky making it a perfect day to sit and read outside.

Even if the season never changes, you can tell apart the “beginning” and “end” of autumn. The leaves are just starting to fall, meaning this would be the beginning of the season. In a few months when the leaves are mostly on the ground, it will be the “end” and then the cycle will repeat itself. You always preferred this time when the sun is still shining and the forest is alive.

It might be summertime in the solar courts from your calculations, not that you've ever stepped foot out of this one, or even out of the city. As much as you love the forests tinged in orange, you can't help but wonder what it would be like if they gave way to different sights every few months.

Perhaps it would make autumn more enjoyable if it wasn't constantly upon you. You think you wouldn't hate the spring or summer, when the sun is warmer and there isn't as much rain, when different flowers bloom making the forests turn into different shades of green and brown and so many other colors.

You haven't been this deep into the woods in a long time, your mother and father had both finally left the house for long enough at the same time after what felt like forever. With the rain, your mother hadn't been invited to any tea parties and your father always seemed to be working in his office nowadays, never even leaving to attend any meetings. Seems the High Lord had given him some important job.

You'd feel bad for whoever had the misfortune of their company today but these are the few moments of peace you can steal for yourself, and you've been praying to The Mother that something came up so your father was called to the Forest House or even further. If it was something scandalous enough it would take your mother to her friend's houses to discuss it among themselves too.

You get so lost in your thoughts and the book you're reading, in the calmness and silence the forest brings you that it's only when you look up at the sky and see it starting to turn the same orange tone as the trees that you realize the sun is almost setting, you were late. You weren't sure how long your parents would be gone for, hopefully they weren't coming before dinner or they would already be looking for you.

Gathering your skirt, you hop down from the thick branch you've been sitting on, shoving your book into the old bag you once stole from one of the many closets in your house. It took you a few tries, and reading a couple of books, but you had managed to charm it to hold a lot more than its size would lead you to believe. You've been using it to keep books, dried flowers you've turned into bookmarks, random trinkets you've found over the years and even a couple of pants. Anything your parents wouldn't approve of you having really, things you actually called your own. Picking it up, you winnow to its hiding place - an old hollowed tree close to the edge of the woods behind your house - and quickly cover it so no one comes across it.

The maids knew you weren't inside, thinking you were in the gazebo watching the flowers, or feeling sorry for yourself, whatever they told themselves you did all day, so winnowing straight to your room wasn't an option. There was also the risk of any of them lingering around and seeing you. The garden had to do then, the servants had probably all left the grounds by then, retiring to their own homes.

You winnow deep into the garden so you're surrounded by bushes, close to the crimson roses that overlooked the side entrance to the estate. You weren't usually allowed on this side of the garden, it was too close to the servants' gate, meaning any of the “lowly” males could see you and you wouldn't know how to defend yourself from their advances. Sometimes you think your father is convinced you need instructions for breathing too.

Waving a hand over yourself to clean off any obvious dirt for the moment, you almost sprint closer to the gazebo, the place the maids would come looking for you when it was time to get ready for dinner.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you turn the corner to find your father walking the grounds. His face turns into stone as soon as he lays eyes on you, making you drop your skirt immediately, smoothing it with your hands out of habit, always trying to appear as polished as you can in front of him.

By his side stood your fiancé, looking as elegant as ever in a black three piece suit, topped off with a muted red tie to match the soles of his shoes. You've never seen his hair this long, it was combed back and tied in a small knot. Your gaze moves back to your father's disappointed face when his eyes meet yours, always so intense and calculating, suffocating even.

It had been years since you'd last been caught outside by your father and, to make matters worse, Eris was here too. At least he only saw you in the garden, even if further in than you're normally allowed. You don't even want to think what would happen if he'd seen you winnow from the woods.

“What are you doing outside at nightfall?” Your father was clearly displeased with you, not only for going against his wishes but also for doing it in front of such an important person.

“I simply got distracted looking at the flowers,” you try to sound as demure as possible, thinking maybe you could fix this by playing dumb since your father probably didn't want to make a scene in front of Eris, “They're blooming so beautifully.”

“You must have been really distracted,” he says as he turns his head menacingly, “since you know you're not allowed to wander around unattended.”

His tone almost makes you flinch, your face dropping. It had been foolish of you to think you could talk yourself out of the situation. Eris' presence wouldn't make your father less volatile, it only made things worse. He wanted to show the other male he was capable of handling his family, not wanting to appear weak in front of the heir.

You hadn't stopped to think that this could also make you less viable for marriage. His daughter being personally chosen by the High Lord as his eldest son's fiancé was your father's greatest accomplishment, and he knew better than you that Beron's mind was easily changed, he wouldn't want Eris to think you might not be the best option after all.

In this moment you ponder tarnishing your reputation as much as you could to get out of this marriage. If only it wouldn't cost you your life with it. Your father always hated the fact that you were born female. A male would bring the family name glory but a female could only hope to wed into a noble family. If you were to lose the High Lord's favor your father would likely lock you away from the world or even dispose of you altogether.

Your father lets out what you think he means as a disapproving sigh, but you can hear the excitement behind it, can see it on his face. He's grown to enjoy the moments when he can put you or your mother in your place, it makes him feel important. He approaches you, moving away from a slightly confused looking Eris.

You knew what was coming as soon as you saw your father pull his hand back, you've been here before many times after all. You close your eyes, feeling the heat approach your face, trying not to let your instincts take over and try to avoid it, that only makes it worse. The force of the slap makes your head turn to the side, your body almost following, but the worst part is the flames, you have to bite your lip not to let out any sound as you feel the burn eating at your skin. You faintly smell burning and try not to think about it, knowing it's the smell of your own flesh.

He holds your chin with a still too warm hand, even if already rid of the flames, and looks into your eyes closely, wanting to revel in your pain. “I've taught you better than this.” He adds another light slap to your face for good measure before letting you go completely. It almost hurts more than the first one, the skin was so tender even just moving your face hurt.

Taking a weak breath in, you try to calm your mind, ignore the pain and rage warring inside you. Clutching tightly onto your dress to keep your hands occupied, in case your mind slips and you burn his face in rage the same way he keeps doing to yours. You feel the flames wanting to rise up to your skin but firmly snuff them out, making sure they stay safely hidden deep inside you until it's the right time.

The pain has gotten easier to bear over the years, now you close your eyes not from fear but to calm yourself. You don't have the strength to go against him yet or a plan for a safe escape, you refuse to lose your life so easily after enduring this for so long. One day you will make him pay for everything he has put you through but first you need a plan and you need to be stronger.

This time it was different though, Eris was watching, you could feel his gaze burning into your skin deeper than your father's fiery palm ever could. There had been witnesses to his cruelty before, even outside your family and servants, you had seen pity, satisfaction and even trained blankness in their faces, had learned to ignore them and not ask for help under any circumstance - it took you too long to realize that the ones showing pity know your pain or are as powerless as you.

But, for some reason, knowing Eris, your future husband, the heir to the throne, is watching makes you want to cry for the first time since you were a child. You bite your lip and clench your fists as hard as you can, opening your eyes only enough to look to the ground, hoping your face isn't giving away too much or the burn was at least enough to hide it.

Suddenly interested in studying the cobbled stones you've walked on for decades, you notice your earring fell off, the ruby glinting in one of the little nooks in between stones, suffocated with no place to escape to just like you felt. You briefly wondered if it had simply gotten loose with the force or if it was ripped off your earlobe, but the pain on the side of your face was too intense to be able to pinpoint a specific area. A ripped earlobe was the least of your concerns anyway.

“What do you think you're doing?” All your thoughts evaporate when you hear his voice. He sounds uncharacteristically angry, you've never seen him lose the teasing lilt to his words or crafted nonchalant tone. You can't help but look up at him with wide eyes, not even remembering the shame you had felt before.

“Not to worry. Her face will be healed by tomorrow morning,” your father barely hesitates, assuming the anger wasn't directed at him hitting you, “I wouldn't give you damaged goods, my lord.”

Sometimes you wonder how your father had lived for so long, how he managed to become important enough that he not only worked for Beron but the High Lord would also want his heir to marry you, when he could be this dense. It was clear Eris wasn't worried about your face, his anger was almost palpable.

You know he wears a mask like no one else, you've seen it in action, but, if your father hadn't been so self-absorbed, if it was Beron standing in front of him, this would end very differently. Because the mask had fallen at the same time your stupid earring did. What was staring at you was Eris' true face. Your father was too thick to notice but you could gamble your life on it.

It showed his unrestrained fury and power rumbling just beneath his skin, you're not sure how your father didn't notice the way the temperature rose around them, the air suddenly resembling the summer you had just been longing for. His gaze burned hotter than lava and the planes of his face carved out the perfect personification of fury. His face was the perfect picture of the new High Lord of the Autumn Court. It was all fire, beautifully and all consuming.

He was making a bigger effort of not hurting your father than you were. When your eyes met you could almost see him forcefully pushing his feelings away, stuffing himself down with them, burying them deep inside him to keep the plot he's been writing for centuries intact. Still, his gaze lingered on your marred cheek too long, you think you even see his fingers spasm, as if wanting to reach out, if it was to console you or to snap your father's neck you couldn't be sure but the sentiment behind it was the same.

You almost gasp as the realization comes to you. The look on his face isn't all anger but what's underlining it isn't pity, it's the face of someone who understands. He's been in your same place. It shouldn't be a surprise to you, Beron's cruelty will far outlive his name, but it's hard to imagine Eris, inarguably the second most powerful fae in this court, in your place.

Your stomach twists at the implications. If even he can't fight Beron, what hope do you have of escaping your father? Especially now that he's aligned himself with the High Lord? It's in this moment that you know Eris' warnings were correct, there's no use running, you wouldn't make it but a couple steps.

“She needs a healer to fix her face,” you can almost see him choosing his words, playing into your father's narrative enough while trying to help you as much as he can. You're starting to think you have Eris figured out. Is this how he has survived this long? “See that it gets done quickly.”

He leaves without another word, turning away from you father and letting his eyes linger on your burnt flesh one more time before winnowing out of your estate. You don't look away from where he'd just been even when your father grabs your arm and pulls you along on his way inside the house, cursing you with every step. You wouldn't be able to leave your room and escape into the forest for a while.

Later that night, when you're returning to your room, after a healer treated your wounds as usual, and made sure Eris' goods wouldn't be permanently damaged as your father had so lovingly put it, you find a vaguely familiar, faint scent lingering in the air, it makes your heart stop.

Thankfully, the maids didn't accompany you to your room, they didn't like treating you cruelly but helping you could get them in trouble with your father so they'd rather just watch in silence, or, even better, turn their face whenever it was possible.

If they had followed you, they would have noticed the scent, would run and tell your father. You're not sure if they'd recognize it as his, he doesn't visit your house often after all, but the spicy scent was unmistakably male. It's better not to think of the amount of trouble you would be in if they smelled it.

You walk to the window first, opening it as wide as you can so the chilly night air fills the room instead, making sure there would be no residuals in the morning when they came to wake you. Looking up at the full moon in the cloudy sky, feeling the wind turn to ice against the side of your face still covered in a thick cooling salve and wrapped in bandages, you hesitate one more time before moving to the foreign items sitting at your vanity table, undoubtedly left behind by your dear fiancé.

Eris left you a tiny bottle with some strange bluish liquid inside accompanied by a small red velvet box tied off with a golden ribbon. You know he won't poison you, the bargain won't allow it, but you weren't sure what else he could do if he let his imagination run wild. You decide reading the note set on top of the box might give you an idea.

He has no right to treat you like this. I'm sorry I can't do more to help you for now but I promise there will come a day when he won't be able to hurt you anymore.

The note wasn't signed but you knew it was his. Even after your agreement, you didn't think he would try to make you feel better, even going as far as risking getting caught while dropping this off, since this fragile alliance of yours had been neither of your first choices.

You pick up the bottle and uncork it, immediately recognizing the calming scent of a sleeping draught. It would help with your nightmares. This is a generous amount too, it can last you a while. You set it back down and untie the ribbon, opening the box to find some chocolate and sugar cookies.

A sleeping draught and cookies. Never in your life had you received anything like this. You can't even admit it to yourself but this is by far the most thoughtful gift you've ever gotten from anyone.

He had to have an idea of how awful your father was to you, you told him as much when you made the bargain, but he might not have realized he went as far as physically hurting you. Eris knows the pain of an abusive father, of being haunted by their cruelty even in your dreams. So, he gave you the draught to help you even a little and the cookies to console you, something sweet to fend off the pain.

Just when you were starting to feel thankful for Eris, thinking you might have been too harsh on him before, you notice something else written on the other side of the note. Turning it around and reading it as well.

I wasn't aware you could winnow so well. Just how much are you hiding from your family, doll?

Your entire body tenses at the words, turning the paper into flames lest anyone reads it. He knows. You've managed to hide this ability from everyone for decades, but now Eris, of all people, knows. You're not sure how he noticed when your father didn't. He could have arrived before him, could have wandered around the grounds without anyone knowing. Is it possible that he knew where you went? No, he couldn't have come from the forest in time to talk to your father and see you.

You hold your hand up to rub over your chest, simultaneously trying to calm your racing heart and feeling the mark of the bargain woven into your soul, trying to reassure yourself. He's your ally. He won't tell anyone, the bargain won't allow it. But what could he do with this information? You had the upper hand when you made the bargain but it feels like he just stepped ahead.

After a few moments of breathing in the cold air still seeping into the room and settling your mind, you sit down on the chair by the vanity unceremoniously, letting your head drop into your hands for a moment. A heavy sigh escapes you as you open the cookie box again. What kind of person sends you gifts and includes a mildly threatening message with them. Must he always push your buttons like this?

You take a bite out of a chocolate cookie and let the delicious taste melt in your mouth, eyeing the small bottle. It seems you'll need to use it tonight, you definitely need a good dreamless sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through the whole day.

What you fail to notice is that, between the chocolate and sugar cookies you keep munching on and the annoyance now targeted towards Eris, your face barely even hurts anymore and you weren't left thinking of the deep rooted ache in your soul after your father hurt you yet another time.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

People who don’t understand how feudalism works and tries to shoehorn in our modern sensibilities into said world with very clear world building and set rules in place are the bane of my existence.

In ASOIAF, bastards cannot inherit anything unless legitimized and have no trueborn relatives to inherit their seats. It doesn’t matter if they are “recognized” as trueborn by their parents if other people doubt and have ‘convincing’ proof that they are bastards. And being recognized as trueborn does not equate to being legitimized because in order for someone to be legitimized, they have to first be acknowledged as baseborn to begin with.

The books are more ambiguous since Rhaenys had Baratheon black hair and purple eyes, but even she had the purple eyes of her father. But no matter how people might interpret the Strong boys’ appearance, it was made pretty damn clear that they were bastards. The parallels between Rhaenyra/Harwin and Cersei/Jamie, cannot be made more clear with how both of them are present when their paramours were birthing their child. Harwin was present during the birth of Lucerys and Jamie was present for the birth of Joffrey. It literally cannot be more of a parallel between the three golden Lannister bastards of the Queen and the three brown haired bastards of a Princess.

‘Oh but Laenor claimed them as his own!’ So did Robert. ‘Corlys had no problem with Luke being heir of Driftmark!’ And Tywin upheld that his grandkids were legitimate until he died. Plus even overlooking Corlys’ ambitions, have you gave any thought to how things would pan out if he came out and said that the kings favorite child cuckholded his heir? Viserys wouldn’t stand for any slander against Rhaenyra as proven by the Driftmark incident and his inaction after Vaemond was fed to his daughters dragon and the silent five so what makes you think that he would over look Corlys ‘slandering’ his daughter?

If Corlys came out after Jace’s birth and denounced him and Rhaenyra, not only would his life be forfeit, his house’s legacy would be completely ruined. There’s no doubt that Viserys would commit terrible injustices to protect Rhaenyra, seeing how he was one of the three candidates for the culprit of the Harrenhal fire. He’s ambitious not dumb and going against the favored child of the king and the favorite niece of the person who wields dark sister and rides one of the largest dragons alive would be like volunteering to put your head and all of your loved ones heads on the chopping block.

If he had doubts about the Strong boys’ legitimate cannot do anything about it. Not when Viserys is so protective of Rhaenyra.

Bastards cannot inherit unless legitimized and to be legitimized is to proclaim to the realm that they were born out of wedlock to begin with. The Strong boys have not been legitimized since they were never declared to be illegitimate but anyone with eyes can tell that they aren’t trueborn.

Within the confines of GRRM’s world building, passing illegitimate offsprings as legitimate is a crime punishable by death or a life of servitude to the faith. Within royalty, it’s tantamount to high treason with the only punishment being the death of the adulterer. The only reason Rhaenyra wasn’t penalized by law was because she held the favor of a king. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t penalized by the masses because she was shown to be an oath-breaker. Because that’s what adultery is in ASOIAF, it’s oathbreaking. (Literally the whole reason Catelyn and Ned’s marriage was so fraught with tension in the beginning was because she thought Ned broke his oath.)

Sure in modern day society, if you and your husband consent to an open relationship which results in children and he adopts them, then in the eyes of the law the child is his legitimately and he is their father. But once again, in a feudal setting, adoption, especially as a noble, doesn’t exists.

Blood matters a whole lot in ASOIAF, Robert was not only able to take the throne through right of conquest but also right of blood through his grandmother. Legitimacy was tantamount. You can make the argument that Jace would’ve been fine to inherit the Iron Throne through the blood of his mother that was running through his veins but Luke had no Velaryon blood in his veins bar what’s left of Alyssa Velaryon which was four generations ago. It’s like saying Jon can inherit Runestone since his great-great grandmother was a Royce.

Even if Rhaenyra ascended the throne without opposition. She shot Jace in the foot with her remarriage to Daemon and subsequently producing two trueborn sons. If the dance of dragons didn’t occur between the black and greens, somewhere down the line, some grasping lord unsatisfied with a bastard ruling them would push to get Aegon on the throne no matter the cost.

[lovexjoe]

How would Armando be if he thought the reader was sweet cute never hurt anyone or a fly but when they are partnered up to go on a mission she the opposite… please do this

Damsel In Distress

A.N: This one is gonna be fun! Y/N will be used as bait for a mission, but Armando doesn't realize she can hold her own. The karambit scene from Bad Boys For Life, Y/N takes the place of Armando with some dialogue changed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHQFzABygCI

Warnings: Violence, some fluffy fluff

Y/N POV

Armando and I have been arguing all morning and afternoon. I don't get what his problem is, he's treating me like a child.

"¿Estás loca? ¡No lo vas a hacer!" (Are you crazy? You're not doing it!)

"Im doing it and that's final!" You stormed out the house.

You guys haven't made things official yet and it's fights like this that reminds you this relationship might be a ticking timebomb. Since I've been partnered with him, he doesn't let me get in on ANY of the fun. I am talking I look like a damsel in distress even AMMO squad laughs about it.

"I think he has a crush on you. It's kinda cute" Kelly teases you as you finish up some of the files that needed to get done for the team. No one really knew what was happening behind the scenes.

"Thinks? Oh he definitely does" Rita says.

"I am sorry in advance that my son is a pain in the ass" Mike shakes his head.

"Advance? You a little late on the apology Mike. This boy been a pain in the ass since we partnered them up!" Marcus adds in.

Everyone chimes their opinion in till the room went silent due to Armando walking in.

"I don't think Y/N should be used as bait tonight, it's not safe" He leans against the wall with everyone trying to suppress their laughter.

Armando really does not know who you are. Yes, your exterior may look sweet and innocent, but out of the whole AMMO squad: you're the deadliest. Which is why you stick to the tech stuff until they really needed you. Mike and Marcus pulled him aside to have a talk: good luck cause he never listens.

Armando POV

This girl drives me insane. Someone as innocent and sweet as her just READY to jump in the fire. Mike and Marcus try to be the voice of reason, but I really wasn't trying to listen. If anything or anyone touches a hair on her head, I'm putting a bullet through them and not thinking twice.

"Mando listen, I understand and I am genuinely surprised that you care, but I promise just stay on standby and watch from the overhead." Armando shoots Mike a glare knowing he wasn't going to win this one regardless so he decided he'll just be on sniper watch.

As it started to get dark outside, we loaded up everything we needed. Y/N was geared up and she looked gorgeous. This women drives me completely insane, but I'd do anything for her. We parked in our hideout spot and started exiting out the van. I grabbed Y/N's hand.

"Listen, just signal me if you need help. " I pulled her close and placed a kiss on her forehead, then proceeded to set up my sniper in the designated area.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Y/N walks to the pinpoint location, meeting up with the drug dealers. She brought her favorite little karambit with her. She warned Marcus and Mike that it might get bloody. These idiots knowing she's a female they're going to try to ambush her. Mike said as long as the leader isn't killed, everything else goes under the radar.

"Karina!" The leader calls out cheerfully. You drop the bag filled with fake money on the floor ignoring his gesture for a hug. Armando lurking from his position, taking quick glimpses of how gorgeous you looked right now.

"We're so sorry to have to do this to you Karina. But your services are no longer needed" 6 men started to slowly close in on you. Armando positions his finger on the trigger, ready to take the leader out and fuck this whole case up. Your safety means more than any case and he'd gladly go back to prison for you. Right as he's about to pull the trigger, Mike says over the intercom to just sit back and enjoyed the show. Armando was confused as you snatched the gun from the leaders hand, placing a bullet in each of his knees and uppercutting him: knocking him out cold. Nap time! You took out your karambit and everything went black. You didn't know what happened in between, but when you came back to your senses your karambit was shoved into the mouth of one of this drug dealer's minions. With 6 bloody bodies surrounding you. You turned to Armando and said

"Oops" You wink.

"That's what im talking about!" Mike and Marcus cheered. Rita and the rest of the AMMO squad came out to wrap everything up. You headed back to the van. Armando was shocked for sure. Turned on? Majorly. Sweet and innocent was DEFINITELY not the words used to describe you anymore. You heard the door of the van open, seeing its your favorite partner in the world.

"You okay mami? I don't want any problems." He slowly creeps in with his hands up, teasing you.

"Yes I'm fine" You chuckled as he pulls you close.

"Yes, you most definitely are" He leans down placing a kiss on your lips.

[k00sblogger]

Summary: When you score a job as a maid after being fired, you're surprised to find out exactly what your new job consists of.

Warning: Unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex, overstimulation, pwp.

Pairing: boss!jimin x fem!reader

A/n: no part 2, sorry pookies

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

"Y/n.." janae whispers, softly rubbing your back in an attempt to console you as you sob into your hands.

Today sucked, no better way to put it. You'd been working as a bartender for a long time now, the perfect job to make some cash while you complete culinary school.

Amongst the students in your class you were the only one not working as a server in some upscale restaurant, but you liked it despite what your peers said. The busy atmosphere, having to be quick with the drinks, it was all enjoyable to you.

All good things come to a end clearly. You'd never had the greatest relationship with your manager, but you wouldn't have expected him to fire you for showing up late once.

For fucks sake you were the perfect employee and the moment you slip up he fires you, it just didn't feel right. Nonetheless, you were too upset and wore down to look into deeper into it.

At least not tonight.

"Why don't you come work with me?" janae's soft voice rips you out of your troubled thoughts. The proposition can't help but make you laugh.

"As a maid? No thanks." you didn't mean to be rude, and in no way were you hating on what she did for work. You just didn't think the job was for you- you barely liked cleaning your own apartment so why the hell would you clean someone else's?

"Do you want a job or not?" she says, blunter than ever. The realization makes you groan and sit up in your bed. You didn't have forever to look for a job, so maybe her offer is what you need.

"Fine." you utter, making a mental note to go on a intense job hunt so you can quit this maid shit as soon as possible.

Janae smiles and begins grabbing her belongings, slipping her jacket over her arms and slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Well, i gotta get goin but i'll make a few calls and let you know about it."

You nod, giving her a soft smile to let her know your thankful that she's willing to go out of her way to do this for you.

She sees herself out after that- and you flop back down on your bed, getting comfortable under the satin sheets. You close your eyes feeling anxious, not really knowing what you've gotten yourself into.

You didn't have time to worry though, you needed a job and thankfully- you might just have one already.

______________________________________________________

THE NEXT DAY:

"So good news!" janae announces, swinging your door open and prancing in. You crawl out of bed with a scowl, rubbing at your tired eyes.

"Remind me why i gave you a house key again." you mutter, and she laughs at the comment as she flings some papers onto your nightstand. "So look, my boss referred me to a friend of his.." she says, getting straight to the point.

The announcement makes you raise your eyebrows, setting your hands on your hips as you listen to her. "They live near each other and he says the guys been looking for a maid."

You sigh, you weren't fond of the whole maid idea anyway but now the only option is working for a guy neither of you know?

"So now i'll be alone, perfect." you respond rather sarcastically.

Janae takes a seat on the bed, tapping the papers she threw down. "Look i know it's not what you wanted but why not give it a try? Taehyung wouldn't recommend one of my friends to just anybody."

She sounds so assuring you suppose that you might as well give it a shot. "What's that?" you ask, glancing at the papers under her hand.

"Oh! A copy of his contract." she says, eagerly handing it over to you. You take it from her hands, scanning over it without actually reading. "He wants an interview with you asap, he's looking to hire someone on the spot."

Holy shit, that was.. perfect.

"Don't forget it to read that beforehand- i gotta go!" she says, standing to her feet and rushing out of the house without another word.

You don't bat in eye at it, assuming she's running late for work as always. Punctuality was definitely not her strong point, but clearly it's not too big of a deal for her boss.

You set the papers down again, beginning to get ready with a huge smile on your face.

Maybe things weren't so bad.

....two days later

*knock knock knock* You stand at the tall door of the mystery man's mansion, hair combed to perfection and clothes ironed to perfection.

You had janae send you his contact and you'd messaged him about a interview time but that was about it- so you didn't really know who exactly you were meeting.

You look up with hopeful eyes as the door opens, and your shocked to see someone who looks to be.. your age? You weren't sure why you expected it to be some old prick.. guess you judged a bit too quick.

"Hi- I'm y/n." you say with confidence, extending your pretty hand for a handshake. He takes it with a smile, giving a firm shake before he steps to the side to allow you into his home.

"Names Mr. Park- but you could call me jimin." he says, and you nod- glad that you can finally see who you'll be working for.

"I perfer mr. park" you say with a smile, it just seems more professional. He nods and walks you over to his offices, pulling out your chair so you can take a seat.

"So, i heard you lost your job?" holy fuck, you were gonna kill janae. She didn't have to tell her boss the extent of everything.

"Yeah..uh- yeah.." your voice trails off and the silence is intense and awkward to say the least, terrible way for him to start the damn interview.

"No worries." he says, chuckling as he takes a seat in the chair across from mine. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want." his voice is soft and warm, easing the tension in an instant.

You thank him, and from then on the conversation just flows. He asks you about your interests, availability, your specialties, and after he's finished you feel that it went pretty well.

"So have you went over the contract?" ...of course you didn't. You were at fault for this, janae had given it to you two days ago and you suppose you just forgot about it.

Obviously, there's no way you were telling him that after the interview had gone perfectly fine. You were almost sure that you'd got the job.

"Of course- i just.. i left my copy at home." Lie. You hadn't read any bit of that contract, it was just so long- you didn't feel like it.

"It's all good, i have a copy you can sign." he digs through a drawer behind his desk, searching for a moment before placing the paper in front of you along with a pen.

"Thank you, sir." you mutter, signing the paper immediately. You still couldn't be bothered to look at it- especially not after you told him you read it all.

"Alright." he says, a smile on his face as he takes the paper from your hands and places it into a file folder. "The jobs all yours, glad to have you."

He extends his hand this time, and you shake it with pleasure. "Great, ehm- when's my first day?"

"Tomorrow, 8AM sharp." well you damn sure weren't expecting so soon, but you weren't doing much else so it was no problem.

"Perfect, see you then." he sees you out to your car, assuring you get into the car and drive off safe before he walks back into his house.

Nothing like your old boss you think, but you like it.

______________________________________________________

THE FOLLOWING DAY:

You groan as you finally lift from the floor, throwing the wet towel to the side as you take a short break. You'd arrived at eight am just as he asked, and it was 12 now.

You wondered how he expected you to clean this whole place on your own, after all it was no where near small. You'd been here for hours already and hadn't even finished the bottom floor.

If he wanted this done in a timely manner he definitely was gonna have to get some more help around here.

Luckily, he wouldn't be home today. You could clean on your first day in complete and utter silen-

The door creaks open before you can even finish your thought, and there he is in all his glory. You mean that literallt by the way, he's adorned in different types of jewelry and a nice suit that was probably from a luxury brand you'd never even heard of.

"Y/n." he says, greeting you quietly as he sets down the bag in his hand near the front door. So much for cleaning up the clutter there.

"Hi-" is all you say, giving him a soft smile as you continue wiping down the counters. You couldn't let his presence here distract you, this was already taking you a long time being alone.

"Everything going okay?" he asks, waltzing into the kitchen like he owns the place. (He does)

"Yeah, i haven't gotten to the upstairs yet but i will soon-" you say, biting the inside of you cheek anxiously. Hopefully he didn't think you were moving too slow, this was hard work for one person.

"It's all good." he mutters, grabbing a coffee cup out of the cupboard next to you. You divert your attention back to cleaning, this time focusing on the stove

The crumbs left in the little crevices make you roll your eyes. No wonder this guy needed a maid, he clearly couldn't clean to save his damn life.

You walk around him to open the cabinet under the sink, bending down carefully aware of the skirt you put on. It wasn't the best thing to wear to clean but you were in a rush this morning.

"You're not in dress code." you hear his deep voice behind you, and stand up to turn and face him. His eyebrows are raised and both of his hands are resting on the freshly cleaned countertop.

"Dress code?" you question with an awkward laugh, but your smile disappears when you see he's not finding anything funny. In fact, he's staring at you blankly, without a word.

"Um, we didn't speak about a dress code." you say, and you know you're right. You remember the conversation very well, and he never mentioned anything about what you should wear.

You just assumed you could wear what you pleased.

"It was on the contract." he says, crossing his arms as he stares at you. You curse yourself for lying, why didn't you just tell him you didn't read his contract??

Whatever whatever, this is your time to come clean.

"Oh yes- i..i just forgot!"

he doesn't reply.

"I'm sorry."

he still doesn't say anything.

"Do you want me to go?"

he's making you feel stupid.

"Mr.park?"

He finally lets out a sigh and moves closer to you, scanning over your outfit. "Bend over."

You weren't sure you heard him right. "What?" you say, not sure of what he's asking if you. And so he repeats himself- "Bend over, y/n."

You turn around and try to look over your shoulder, convinced there's something on your back maybe. "Is there something there?" you ask, innocent as ever.

"No, i wanna fuck you." he says it casually, as if he was asking you to get him a cup of coffe. Your eyes widen, practically buldging out of your head in shock. How fucking inappropriate could he be?

"Are you insane?" you rebuttal, looking at him as if he was crazy. Shit he was in your opinion, it's your first day and he's already coming onto you like some man whore.

He begins to laugh at you, making your face scrunch up into an annoyed glare. What the fuck was so funny? Who the hell laughs after being rejected?

"You didn't read my contract." he announces, and now you're confused. You didn't read it, obviously- but how would he know that?

"I did it just-" he raises his hand, cutting you off without having to speak. "You didn't, because if you did you wouldn't be so fucking shocked right now."

He walks away from you afterward, and you stand in the kitchen dumbfounded as you watch him go into his office and come back out in a matter of minutes.

He returns with a file folder in hand, the same folder he stuffed the contract you signed into. The same contract that you payed no attention to and sure as hell didn't read.

He flings it onto the counter, the same way you did when janae first handed it to you. You desperately wished you would've just read it as soon as she handed it to you.

"Read it." he demands, it wasn't a question. You oblige him, moving closer and beginning to read the very first page. It's not long before you come across the dress code.

•must wear the uniform provided

•must look presentable daily

"The uniform was left on the couch." he mentions, and you nod in embarrassment.

He gestures for you to continue reading, and you do so. Nothing seems to weird, that is until you reach the end of the rules and requirements portion.

•must be willing to engage in sexual activities with exmployer at any time they're on the clock.

"The fuck is this?" you say, immediately looking at him in concern. "This isn't what i signed up for." you protest.

"It is, though." he says, in a much calmer tone then yours. This was nothing to him, he's probably had loads of girls in the past do this for him. Whatever this even was.

"So you just wanna have sex with me." you say, throwing the papers back down to the counter as you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"No, you're still here to clean." he says, grabbing the papers and placing it back into the folder. "But- i want to have sex with you as well."

His straight forwardness makes you squirm, something about being so open about the matter was weird for you. "I can't do this." you mutter, this wasn't what you needed.

"You tricked me."

You wanted a real job, not this.

"Look, im not gonna force you to do this." he announces, picking the folder up and shaking it in front of your face. "If you want, i'll rip this contract up and you can leave now."

You stay silent, listening to him speak as you think about your options here.

"But, i also know you need the money. I won't make you stay here, but if you do it'll be by my rules." he's stern with his words, and you know he means it.

"There's no point of you being here if you don't meet my requirements, y/n."

You understand him very well, but you don't know what to do. You didn't know if you wanted to stay, or if you wanted to go home and continue looking for a job with no hope.

Which was right? You didn't know.

He grunts as he adjusts his suit, fixing the tie around his neck. "Do you want to be here, or not?"

You think for a while, not wanting to answer too quickly. You need to be sure about this, and you keep telling yourself if this isn't what you want, then you need to go home.

But somehow, you still find yourself muttering a quiet. "I want to be here."

"Are you sure?" he asks you, and this is your chance to say you're not- but you don't. "I'm sure."

You were sure.

He nods and licks his lips. "Keep cleaning."

You take a deep breath & do as your told, grabbing the windex and spraying the huge mirror. He's making you anxious with the way he's watching you, and you wished he'd leave again.

You're tearing off a paper towel when he moves closer behind you, now close enough that his back is touching yours.

"Sir-" he shushes you, rubbing up and down the part of your thighs that he can see. "You agreed didn't you? I wanna start right away." he mutters it into your ear, and it makes your heart pound.

This was a bit early wasn't it? Can't he just give it a couple days first? You're new here for fucks sake.

"While i'm cleaning?" you ask, and it almost comes out as a whimper. It was shameful how it only took him rubbing your leg to get you all squeamish around him.

"Just pretend i'm not here.." he whispers, slipping his fingers under the hem of your dress to pull it down. He lets them fall to your ankles, and you struggle to keep wiping the mirror as he takes in the sight of your underwear.

You chose a matching set today, not on purpose- you just wanted to feel nice. The choice payed off nevertheless.

"I can't.." you whimper out, titling your head down and away from the mirror. "You can" he contrasts, sticking his hand into the purple thong you were wearing.

"Tell me how your days been." he mumbles it ever so casually, acting as if your clit isn't at the mercy of his fingertips at this very moment.

He was toying with you, flicking the bundle of nerves ever so slightly and placing little kisses on your neck.

"I-It's been good." you force yourself to whimper out a response, your body liking this treatment though your mind is telling you that you should've already grabbed your belongings and left as soon as you found out what this job consisted of.

"More, what'd you do?" he asks, and you can hear the jingling of his belt as he fumbled to get it off.

He moves hastily, soon rubbing his bare cock against your folds. "I..I prepared your dinner, it's in the fridge." you respond, hand refusing to move to continue wiping the glass.

"That's good, what'd you make me?" a gasp falls from your lips as he forces his way into your tight hole. He takes a sharp inhale too, the feeling of you wrapped around him a bit more than he himself could handle.

"Please.." jesus you don't even know what your begging for, all you can think about right now is the way he feels inside of you.

"Please what?" he counters, gripping your shoulder as tight as he could to fuck you back onto his dick. "Got me so hard, knew exactly what i wanted to do to you when you showed up in my office."

Something about that made you smile. Talking during sex wasn't something you were particularly used to but you damn sure liked it.

His dick slides in and out of you with ease, slipping out every so often due to how wet he's got you. It's not long before he's fucking into you without much care in the world.

He knew you were enjoying it though, feeling how you clamped down on him even tighter the rougher he got with you.

His hand pulls at your hair, wrapping it around his hand and tugging it as if it was some leash. "Such a pretty pussy, all mine now-"

You try your best to hear him over your little whimpers and moans, only growing louder when he moves his hand under you to play with your clit again.

His fingers are wet, and your almost sure he spit on them before playing with you. "Sir-" you rasp out, growing warm with the way his chest was pressed to your back.

"Hm?" is he all he manages to get out, too concentrated on your lower half. His eyes never left your ass, obsessed with the way it jiggled each time he thrusted into you.

He slaps it once just for his own pleaure.

And then a few more times when he hears you moan at the first.

"G-Gonna cum!" you're sweating now, still trying your best to fuck yourself against him to finally get yourself to the orgasm you've been waiting for.

He lets you do the work for just a moment, watching your pretty body work itself on him. "Just like that- cum for me.." his voice trails off on its own, and he bites his lip hard in a attempt to not let out a groan.

When you feel his hand reach around to press down on your lower stomach, you explode. You're left squirming under him all over again, squeezing his cock tight enough to make him pull out before he can cum inside of you.

He gets himself off after that. Staring at your used cunt as he jerks himself off to release. The spurts of his cum land all over your lower back, and you don't stand up properly until he's all finished.

"Wait, shit- bend over again." he says, and you comply without question.

He onto his knees behind you, bringing his hands up to take a nice handful of your ass cheeks. He licks his lips before he licks off anything left behind.

Clean up what you mess up right?

He lets out a loud grunt, repeatedly licking over your clit even when there's nothing left.

"Stop- fuck! stop!" you cry out, not ready for him to give you another, at least not yet. You reach your hand behind you in a attempt to push him away but you fail miserably, getting nothing but a harsh smack to your ass.

He only stops when you begin to thrash, and pulls away before you get too overstimulated.

"Turn around." he mutters, pulling up his pants as you breathlessly turns to face him. As soon as you get the slightest glimpse of his face, he brings his lips straight to yours.

His lips are softer than you expected, and the way he kisses is much different than the way he fucks. You lick your lips when he pulls away, giving him a shy smile like he wasn't inside of you less than five minutes ago.

"Thanks?" you mutter, not sure what to say. What do you say after getting fucked by a guy you'd only just met? Its strictly business you suppose, but still.

"No need for thanks." he says, kissing your cheek like a boyfriend would his girlfriend.

"I'll have a check for you by tomorrow yeah? Finish up just the downstairs and you're good to go for today."

Was that it? He just fucks you and sees himself out just like that? You weren't sure what you expected, but it damn sure wasn't that.

...

That same night your on the phone with janae, twiddling your fingers as she rants about her day- but you're too busy thinking about your own.

Should you tell her?

"Ah fuck stop touching that!- sorry y'know how my nephew is." she laughs. "How was your first day at work by the way?"

Holy fuck, the long awaited question. "It was good.. really good." you say, deciding then and there you should probably keep the details to yourself.

"I figured so, i had a late shift and my boss told me mr.park seemed to be in a good mood today." you smile to yourself at the comment, and find yourself wondering if it was because of you.

"Oh really?" you ask, trying to make yourself sound surprised.

"Mhm- and speaking of that.. i have good news!" her voice suddenly amps up and you raise your eyebrows though she can't see you. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Well, y'know how i mentioned my boss was moving away?"

you nod.

"So, he did me a couple favors and he said mr. park would be happy to have me! We'd be doing the same job!"

your smile drops instantly, what the fuck.

"Twins!! Aren't you happy?" she asks you, excited as ever.

"I've gotta go janae."

(requested by @parkjiminspersonalhoe )

[mountainsandmayhem]

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

18+

Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes matters into his own hands to deal with your newly insatiable sex drive with a little help from a u shaped friend. TW: softdom!Joel, female orgasms (like a lot of them), oral (fem!rec), this is all about her A/N: THANK YOU for all the comments, likes and reblogs on my last story! I fully believe only 1 or 2 people will read these and I'm just floored by the response so far. I wish I could write without a plot, but I added some backstory about these two. Word Count: 4.3k

Ellie has always been a tornado in your life. Her biological mom was your childhood best friend. She had her demons, so you can’t say you were surprised when during her weekend trip to visit you with her new baby she disappeared, leaving you with little Ellie. 

Overnight, you went from a 22-year-old young woman starting your third year of your degree to a 22-year-old adoptive single mom pushing through your third year of college. 

Your parents were helpful, driving four hours from the small town you grew up in every weekend so you could work or do homework. They offered to take Ellie for a while or help you find people to adopt her, but that little tornado of a girl was your priority and you weren’t going to abandon her like her mother. 

She broke her arm at 2 on her big wheel, and at 3 she needed 10 stitches across her eyebrow from when she tried to leap from the kitchen table to the granite island. Safe to say the granite won as she still bears that scar today. At 4, she bolted up the stairs to the high dive and jumped off without an ounce of fear. Thank god she was already a strong swimmer.

She seemed to crave chaos, so when she befriended the girl with wildly curly hair on her first day of school you just shook your head, predictable little tornado. 

Thankfully Sarah Miller was a sweet and kind-hearted girl, maybe even a little shy. It also helped that Sarah’s young dad, who didn’t wear a wedding ring, resembled a Greek god. Tall and broad with tanned skin, he owned some sort of contracting business based on the truck he’d do school pick up and drop off in. When the girls introduced you two, he flashed you a small smile, revealing that goddamn dimple. 

You’re both pretty sure the girls played a hand in the two of you eventually getting together, granted they both conveniently don’t remember playing tiny matchmakers. They’d ask for sleepovers and playdates almost daily, or sign you both up to the same shift at school events.

“Mommy, I swear on the moon that the teacher picked!” Ellie said when you had the coat check station at the Valentine's Day dance. “Buuuut you might want to put on lipstick.” 

It’s been a little over 14 years since then and he still sets your blood on fire with that dimple. 

Both of you approached this new empty nest phase apprehensively, but it turns out that having the house to yourself (with no risk of one of the girls walking in) opened a whole new set of rather kinky doors. Not that you were necessarily vanilla before, but while they lived there you didn’t have ropes and paddles hanging on your bedroom wall, or the hooks on your four-poster bed.

You also never would have been how you are now, bathroom door wide open in only the trousers you planned to wear to work. 

“Not that I’m complainin’ sweetheart. But why are you topless?” Joel asks on his way to the kitchen. 

“It’s too damn hot in here.” You grumble, getting out your skincare and makeup. 

Joel shook his head to himself as he walked to the kitchen. He knew better than to bring up that it wasn’t the temperature, it was you and your recent perimenopause diagnosis. He hated to see you suffering, but your newly insatiable libido gave him an idea. 

As you get ready, Joel leans against the bathroom door frame drinking coffee, observing you through the mirror. 

You see him most days in his typical work attire - dark jeans, a t-shirt with his company logo, and a flannel or denim button-up. But it will never get old to you. You almost find him sexier in this than in a suit. Especially when he has the cuffs rolled like he does today. 

“Little Dove?” His voice is deep and scratchy. 

A slight blush paints your cheeks, knowing that it’s going to be one of those days. 

“Yes, sir?” 

He slowly walks towards you as you lean into the mirror to blink on some mascara. He stops just a hair away from you, not touching you but close. Close enough for you to feel the heat coming off of him. He waits until you’ve put the mascara wand away, and uses his free hand to trace a line slowly down your spine. 

A shiver runs through you, and you let out a small moan. Partly from the feeling of him, but mostly at the reprieve from the hot flash you’re experiencing. 

“How many orgasms do you think I could give you before you beg me to stop?” He kisses the top of your left shoulder, watching your eyes widen slightly in the mirror. 

Goosebumps spread across your body. If he wants to play, you’ll make it difficult for him. “Well, after the little kidnapping the other night you gave in after three.” 

“This is about you giving up and not me giving in,” His free hand continues a light trail along your bare back. 

“And didn’t you say you felt like you had done an intense Pilates workout the next day?” He adds teasingly.

You were hoping he’d forgotten about how you groaned as you lowered yourself into the bathtub to soak your sore muscles. Even though your hormones seemed to think you were a teenager again, your body took a little longer to recover. Joel cared for you in a way that only he could; making dinner, wrapping you in your beloved heated blanket, and gently massaging your hips and legs. 

You don’t want to give up this easily so you scoff and say, “Please, old man. You’d get tired before I’d quit.” 

The next two things happen so quickly that it’s over before the excited squeal leaves your lips. He spins you to face him and lifts you onto the countertop, caging you between his arms, his hands gripping the vanity on either side of you.  

“Now now, Little Dove. I’d be careful who you call old.” His recently playful tone is back to a deep gravel-like command that settles right between your thighs. 

“You will refer to me as sir in these moments and nothing else. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fuck you love him like this. 

He kisses down your neck towards your right breast. Pausing he adds, “Words, Little Dove,” before gently dragging your right nipple through his teeth. 

You let out a desperate moan arching your back into the pain, “Yes, sir.” 

Joel quickly steps back, taking his coffee cup with him. “Be a good girl today.” 

+++++

You spend your workday trying not to think about Joel. You immerse yourself in your to-do list and your team gets a few projects done early and sent off for approval. You’ve almost forgotten about the morning events when you hear your phone buzz. 

Joel: When I get home I want you in that little black lacy thing, Little Dove. I’m bringing home dinner. 

You reply with a funny ‘yes, sir’ gif.

Joel: Oh, my sweet Little Dove. I’m almost starting to think you like it when I punish you. 

You: Do your worst, I won’t tap out.

Joel: Tell me what you’re going to be doing when I get home.

You find a photo of you wearing the aforementioned ‘little black lacy thing’ and attach it to your message that says, “Wearing this, sir.” 

Joel: Be kneeling beside the couch when I get home. 

You: Yes, sir. 

++++

The rest of your day goes by tortuously slowly, yet the drive home seemed suspiciously fast. You laugh to yourself picturing a speeding ticket in the mail and Joel’s reaction when you tell him he has to pay it since it’s his fault. Maybe you’ll ask him when he’s in a sir mood.

You hop in the shower, shave and touch up your makeup before clipping and clasping yourself into the outfit Joel loves so much. As you step back to admire yourself in the full-length mirror you realize certain squishy parts of your body don’t look great in this.

Focus on the positive, you remind yourself. 

The deep v-halter of the one-piece garment accentuates your breasts, you spin to take in the low cut back and high cut cheeky bottom that highlights the globes of your ass. 

The familiar sounds of Joel’s truck pulling up the driveway sends a rush of nervous and excited butterflies through your stomach. You hurry to the sitting room, grab a throw pillow from the couch and kneel. 

Your eyes follow as Joel heads to the kitchen, holding a bag from your favourite sushi restaurant.  He places it on the island before looking up at you with dark eyes

“Look at the ground and put your hands on your lap.” He commands. 

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling as you look down and do as he says. 

“Little Dove, don’t roll your eyes at me.” His voice deepens with every word, instantly setting your core on fire. 

He’s silent for a moment and you can feel his eyes on you. “From now on when I say to kneel, this is how you’ll be. Understand?” 

You squeeze your thighs a little tighter, breathing starting to shallow at the sound of his voice as he slips deeper into sir mode. 

You reply with a breathy, “Yes sir. Sorry.” 

Joel walks over and pets your head. “You look stunning like this.” He whispers, before turning and leaving you alone. 

His words feel like warm honey being drizzled down your spine. No one makes you feel as desired as Joel and immediately your earlier body insecurities vanish. You can hear him moving things around the bedroom before he walks back to the kitchen but you don’t dare look up. You’re a good girl, Joel doesn’t like brats, and right now all that matters is pleasing him. 

Joel sets up dinner, arranges the sushi on plates, opens the wine and lights a candle before sitting at the table, legs spread, facing you. 

“Crawl to me, Little Dove.” His deep voice washes over you. Almost as if it puts you in a trance. You know your knees are going to regret this in the morning, but you’re so turned on that you don’t hesitate to crawl across the area rug and then onto the hardwood flooring Joel installed himself.

Stopping between his bare legs, his strong hand cradles your chin and tilts it up, he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and tight black boxers. But it’s the sleek black remote control vibrator in his other hand that steals your attention.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He says with a soft moan, gently stroking your cheek. “Go put this in, and then come back and have dinner with me.”

He helps you to your feet and hands you the vibrator. He turns you towards the half bath off the kitchen and pats your bum gently while you walk away. 

Joel has laid out everything you might need on the counter. After cleaning the toy, you push the thin fabric of your lingerie aside and slide it inside yourself. You can already feel pressure on that little spongy part inside you that Joel loves to tease. As you wash your hands you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

I can do this, you say to yourself. 

As soon as you step out of the bathroom and make eye contact with Joel the toy comes to life. Your false confidence from a few seconds ago buckles along with your knees as you brace yourself on the door frame and let out a breathy gasp. 

“I want you to keep count and thank me for each one, Little Dove. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, sir,” you moan, crossing your legs and squeezing your thighs, all while maintaining eye contact. 

The vibration stops, you take a few deep breaths before standing up tall and walking over to the table. Always the gentleman, he pulls out your chair and kisses the top of your head before taking his seat. 

“Eat while we go over some ground rules, Little Dove.” 

You don’t have to be told twice, you love sushi and you’re probably going to need your strength for the evening. 

“You are going to need a safe word tonight.” Your mouth goes dry and you become accurately aware of the small remote control in his possession. 

“We are going to use a colour coding system, much like traffic lights. If I ask you for a colour tonight you have three options. Green means you want to keep going,” he emphasizes the word you. 

“Yellow means you need a break and will let me know when you’re ready again. Say red and we stop.” Joel pauses and looks at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply in between bites. 

He picks up his wine and takes a sip before continuing softly, reaching across to grab your hand. “But baby, you can say yellow or red at any time. If you need a break or reassurance, say yellow. And if it’s too intense and you need me to stop, say red. We’ve done our research on this. But you need to know that if you say stop, or that you need a break, or even if you’re crying and saying I’m hurting you, I will not stop. Colours only. Understand?”

You nod while taking a big mouthful of wine, the nervous excitement that you’ve been feeling all day courses through your body. As your wine glass is put back on the table the vibrating starts again, stronger this time. 

“You should know by now that you need to use your fucking words, Little Dove.” He says darkly. 

“Yes,” you stammer. “Yes. I under….I understand, sir.”

The vibrating stops and you let out a breathy, Oh god.

You both eat your dinner and finish the wine, this man could give you whiplash with how quickly he can go from sir to family man.  He asks about your day and tells you about the new apprentice he’s hired. When you both finish eating he takes the dishes to the sink. He turns to face you, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his t-shirt stretch over the ropes of muscles lining his biceps. 

“Little Dove, do I have your consent to make you come until you use a safe word?” 

Again, the whiplash. 

Your mouth goes dry as you reply with his preferred ‘yes, sir.’ 

The toy comes to life again, on a higher setting than the last 2 times. You lean forward so your ass is slightly off the chair to ease some of the intensity. You’re not a stranger to a vibrator, but never one that’s pushed this firmly against your g spot and your clit. The seat of your chair is clamped between your fingers as you cry out in pleasure. 

“Don’t make me tie you to that fucking chair. Sit down, Little Dove.”

You do as he says, letting out a desperate moan as the hard seat presses the two ends of the u shaped toy deeper and harder against your g spot. 

“Oh fuck - fuck - m’gonna…” you close your eyes and your head falls back as the white heat in your center starts to reach its breaking point. 

Joel strides over to you and grabs your chin, twisting you slightly to face him. “Look at me, I want to see it when you come.” 

“J-Joel,” his hand doesn’t leave your chin and he watches you with such admiration as you start to come undone. 

“That’s it, Little Dove,” he whispers as he places a few kisses along your jaw towards your ear adding, “Let go for me.” 

Your orgasm hits you hard, spreading from the base of your spine and out to every inch of your body. Wave after wave flows through you, intensified by the look of admiration spreading across Joel's face.  

“There you go - good girl.” 

Your fingers start to ache as you fight to stay seated in the chair, his wishes are your command and you’ll do anything to hear him praise you again. You squirm against the seat as overstimulation starts to take over. 

“Please, sir,” you beg, “fuck! I need…I need to move.” 

“So beautiful when you beg, Little Dove….count it for me” He says. 

“One sir, thank you.” It comes out weak and breathy, a voice you didn’t expect after only one orgasm. 

“Give me a colour, baby.” His voice is almost soothing as he torments you with the vibrator. 

Current state aside, you’re not giving up or giving in after one orgasm, even if it is still coursing through you minutes later. 

“Green!” You scream, shifting yourself off the chair slightly as he switches to a new vibration setting.  Its intensity varies and shifts, and the anticipation of never knowing what might hit you next is a new level of wonderful torture.

Joel slides your chair out and kneels in front of you, pushing your hips back down to the chair. 

“I will tie you down if you don’t stay still, Little Dove,” he growls before slamming his lips into yours.

A second orgasm tears through your body, your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you try not to move. It’s no use, the vibrations are too intense and you buck your hips up while your head falls back breaking the kiss. 

The kitchen fills with your cries of ecstasy. Somehow you manage to count and thank him for the second one before he turns off the toy and pulls you to your feet. You grip his strong forearms to steady yourself, your pussy still fluttering against the weight of the vibrator. 

“You have five seconds before I turn this on high, Little Dove. Unless you can make it to the bedroom before that.” 

Your legs feel like jelly beneath you, but your competitive side kicks in and you sprint down the hallway as he loudly and authoritatively counts to five. You almost make it through the bedroom when you feel the most intense vibration hit your swollen g spot. You stumble forward, folding your upper body onto the bed. Your brain scrambles to catch up to your body as it processes that you’re not in pain but instead in a state of agonizing pleasure. 

Joel walks up behind you, pressing himself against your ass. “You’re doing such a good job for me,” he praises before landing a hard slap on your right ass cheek. 

Your body is suspended in that moment right before you come. You almost feel like you’re floating and the pleasure is so intense that you can’t even make a noise as you clench the bedsheet in your fists to try to ground yourself. 

He uses his body to pin you down, folding over you and whispering “Give me a colour,” in your ear. 

“Green” comes out in a shaky whisper. 

“That’s my girl.” He says proudly, biting your shoulder blade. 

Again it’s his words that do it, my girl, and you finally tip over the edge and tremble underneath him. Joel kisses and sucks the skin of your upper back, every inch of your body feels encompassed by him and crying out for relief, but you’re not giving in. 

“Ah - fuuuuck…” you feel like this orgasm has been going on for hours.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now.” 

“Stop. P-please. Stop,” you beg in between gasps of air. 

As you come down from your high the vibrating slows to a small tickle, not enough to make you come again but enough to remind you that it’s there.

Can someone die from an orgasm? 

“Take off your clothes,” Joel growls in your ear, slapping your right ass cheek as he peels himself off of you. “I’m not stopping until you use the safe word, Little Dove.” 

He pulls his shirt off and watches as you undo the clasps and clips of your lingerie and slide it off with shaky hands. 

As you lay on the bed you say, “I’m not a fucking quitter, sir.” 

Joel smirks, laughing through his nose a little as he wraps a silk cuff around each ankle, spreading your legs apart for him. “How many are we at so far?” 

As he cuffs your wrists you reply. “Three. Thank you, sir.” 

He kisses your forehead as he slowly removes the vibrator. “Fuck me,” he says, “look at this mess, such a good girl for me.” 

You close your eyes and let the praise wash over you like a warm bath. Joel shifts his body between your legs and places two little kisses on your swollen clit making you whimper and suck your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He uses two fingers to lightly circle your clit making you come instantly with a whimpering ‘four, thank you, sir,’ at the end. 

Joel doesn’t stop, switching to use his tongue while keeping the same pace and pressure as you come again.

“Ah - five, thank you, sir!”

….and again….”fuck, six. Thank you, sir.”

...and again….”s-seven - oh god - thank y-you, sir.” 

Your skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as a cool liquid drizzles down your pussy. You gasp at the new sensation, eyes shooting to his face. 

“Stay still, Little Dove.” 

As he runs his fingers up and down your pussy, the lube turns warm and tingly, heightening his touches. Joel draws circles on your clit with his thumb, pursing his lips and blowing cool air. The warmth turns icy cold, and when he stops blowing, heat rushes to your pussy, pulling another orgasm from you. 

Yes, I’m certain someone can die from an orgasm. 

“Count, Little Dove.” 

A whine escapes your lips as you try to tug your legs together. His thumb has slowed down but it’s all becoming too much. “Eight. I can’t anymore, sir.” 

He blows cool air again and the heat rushing has you keening all over again. 

“Please, Joel. I can’t. Please.” Tears spring from your eyes. 

“You’re ok. You can do this, baby.” Cool air hits your pussy again and you come apart.  “Good girl. So gorgeous. Count it for me, Little Dove.” 

“Nine. N-nine,” your eyes slam shut as he pulls away from you. “T-thank you, sir.” 

Before you’ve even finished thanking him, he slides his middle finger inside you, lightly massaging your g spot that’s still so sensitive from the vibrator. He pushes one of his strong hands down on your mound as he torturously works you toward your tenth orgasm. 

“No…please. Sir, I,” you gasp as you try to pull free. 

“I can’t,” the pleasure is almost painful at this point as the pressure from your arousal builds. He knows your close, he’s been dying to make you squirt again after the other night. 

“Color,” Joel says tenderly, slipping a second finger inside you and hooking the forward. 

You swallow hard against your sore and scratchy throat. You whine ‘green’, as you arch your back to try to ease the intense mixture of pain, pleasure and pressure that you’re experiencing. 

“Stay still, Little Dove,” Joel pushes harder on your lower belly. “Give me number ten. Show me, baby. Show me how good this feels.” 

You swear that everything stops, including your heart and time, as you fall apart under his touch and gush all over his hand. The walls of your pussy are clenching around Joel’s fingers and you can feel a puddle forming underneath you.  You think you hear Joel praising you, but the sound is muffled by your gasps and moans.  If you lived in an apartment your neighbours might think you were being tortured based on the loud cries coming out of you. Joel is sure that he’ll be making you a hot toddy to ease your throat later, but right now he’s hyper-focused on getting you through this orgasm.

As you start to come down his hand slows, “relax, baby.”

 “Red. S-stop. Fuck Joel, red.” 

Joel gently removes his fingers, shifting quickly to undo your restraints. You’re shivering and exhausted as he pulls you into his arms and away from the soaked sheets.

Everything Joel Miller does is done with the utmost care and attention, including aftercare. Your heated blanket is already warmed up, tucked near the headboard. He pulls it over you and places a featherlight kiss on your sweaty forehead. 

“I got you, darlin’. Shhh. I got you.” He holds you tighter as you melt into him. 

After a few moments of silence, you tilt your face up to look at him. “Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You bite your bottom lip to stop a smile. “Ya, that was - amazing.” 

You laugh a little and tuck back into his chest. “Are you sure? I’m so proud of you for using a safe word, but I need to ensure I didn’t hurt you.” 

You shake your head and fight to stay awake. “No…you didn’t” you mumble sleepily, stifling a yawn. “I’m great - just one minute…then I’ll do something for you.” 

Joel laughs softly and tilts your face up to his. He presses his lips to yours gently. “That was for me, Little Dove. Sleep for a little bit, I’ll wake you up for electrolytes and food.”

The warmth of your blanket takes over, you whisper an ‘I love you’ just as you drift off, thanking whoever brought this beautiful man into your life. 

++++++++++

Taglist: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut

[whoistartaglia]

can genshin men cook?

after a long day of work, what do you come home to: the aroma of dinner cooking in the oven or the smoke detector blaring and a kitchen on fire…?

diluc is so house husband that you would ideally come home to a warm meal set on the dining room table, except for the occasions when he overcooks the food. it’s not his fault, really. blame the pyro god who gave diluc his vision, that may or may not flare up when he’s trying to slowly roast some chicken and vegetables over an open flame. one second everything is fine, the next the chicken is blackened and some of the vegetables have been reduced to ash.

if childe is cooking you a family recipe or a traditional snezhayan dish, then you know you’re coming home to a delicious smelling kitchen and fresh flowers set on the table. childe considers it an act of appreciation and love, cooking his home favorites for you. he puts care in his cooking, and has practice from from feeding his younger siblings growing up. the dishes always turn out amazing and you’ll get him blushing from head to toe if you ask him to show you how to make it.

kaeya is more of a takeout kind of guy. that’s not to say he won’t cook for you if you ask—there are at least a handful of dishes and recipes he knows how to make, and pretty damn well, too. but if he’s also coming home from a long day at work, he’ll probably order something from a local tavern or restaurant, and bring it home. kaeya always remembers to order your favorite, and the takeout food is always set out on the table when you get home. and of course, he always takes care to order your favorite meal, which he knows like the back of his own hand.

xiao won’t burn down the kitchen, but he might get close. he doesn’t have a whole lot of mortal food he enjoys, and so doesn’t have much experience in cooking human food. xiao does try his best for you, though, because he wants you to come home to a nice dinner and relaxing evening. so if xiao happens to start a kitchen fire or set off the smoke alarms, he makes sure to handle it before you get home. you won’t even smell the remnants of the fire in the air, thanks to xiao’s anemo powers.

itto is also very house husband, but when it comes to other things, like building or renovating or practicing fighting moves in the backyard. while he can cook, it’s always a gamble whether you’re coming home to a kitchen half-burnt or an actual living fire. he swears he has it under control. he reassures you everything is fine, and to his credit, he does manage to put out the fire(s) and get something edible on the table. itto will also be very proud of his work, and you agree with his “raw, sheer talent” even as your fork is covered in ash and the burnt remains of some poor grocery store food.

ayato has personal chefs and the meals you come home to are always perfect. how could they not be, when crafted by the finest cooks in inazuma? if you actually request ayato himself to cook for you, he’ll do so happily. he’s a very meticulous, methodical cook—chopping vegetables precisely, using measuring cups and spoons for amounts people usually eyeball, and waiting until the stove or oven is at the perfect temperature before use. his meals turn out amazing—more than the private chefs, because this one is homecooked from the heart.

zhongli definitely has extensive knowledge of cooking and old recipes from liyue, and makes warm, delicious homecooked meals for you… but you still come home to a messy, smoking kitchen once in a while. you’re kind of relieved at that, since it shows that, for all his godly powers and extensive wisdom, zhongli still has his moments. so you laugh as you extinguish the fire even as zhongli is apologizing profusely. though if you suggest to go to your favorite restaurant, zhongli will refuse—he’s gonna start again from scratch, because a meal is what you requested of him, and a meal is what he will deliever.

wriothesley will set the kitchen on fire and say it’s on purpose—and most of the time, it is. his cool calculations melt away when he’s in the kitchen, as once pristine counters become rather messy, and the organized pantry and fridge, disorganized. wriothesley claims it’s because this is how he works best on the kitchen, and you suppose that’s true given his cooking style, which is picking out ingredients, throwing them together, and hoping for something tasty. it’s unfair, really, how good he is at cooking without trying. the kitchen is an embodiment of a hot mess.

[sometimesanalice]

In a Place Just Right

Summary: It's your first year hosting Thanksgiving in San Diego for the Daggers and Bradley can tell you're a little nervous about it. But he already knows it's going to be one for the books, because any holiday spent with you better than anything he could have imagined.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5K

Warnings: fluff and allusions to smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! Happy Thanksgiving, friends!)

For the last six years Penny has been the one to host Daggersgiving, but this year hostess duties had fallen on your plate. Needless to say, Bradley knew you were more than a little stressed about it.

When you had asked him about his opinion on the merits of canned cranberry sauce versus homemade he’d blinked at you a few times before asking, “Is this a thing people care about?”

He’ll never forget how adorably aghast you looked to learn that he had no preference on the matter. And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer.

“Both, we’ll have both,” you’d stated resolutely.

“Whatever you want, kid," he’d murmured as he’d pulled you to his chest and wrapped an arm around your stomach. His smart and beautiful wife. "Now go back to sleep, you’re supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums not cranberries."

“Wrong holiday, Bradley,” you’d sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. And it hadn’t taken you long to fall back asleep with that cranberry crisis having been averted.

But now people were due to show up in less than an hour and you are frantically fluttering and huffing around the kitchen like a madwoman in a very pretty green dress, "I knew that quickie was a bad idea. You're never quick, Bradley."

He’d been away and missed many holidays over the years due to his career.

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family, but more often than not it rarely aligned with him being stationed all over the world. But he’d always been happy to get to have a phone call with you and eat the homemade cookies you’d sent him on those years spent apart.

But now Bradley got to look forward to spending every holiday with you in the home you shared with him.

Over the last week the house had slowly but surely transformed into something that was straight out of a magazine.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace. And overpriced candles from your favorite store flickered cheerfully on every surface that wasn’t a fire hazard to a bunch of enthusiastic Naval aviators. The dining table was dressed up to the nines and everyone spot with their names painstakingly written in your pretty script on a place card sitting in a pinecone.

You had even made some oversized confetti in the shape of oak leaves out of some old books, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Nat had given him years ago as a joke was finally repurposed and recycled into something more festive over where the beverages had been set up.

The whole house smells amazing. Warm cinnamons and nutmegs mixing with bright citrus and rich vanillas. The kitchen island and countertops were filled with various plates and platters and bowls of dips, charcuterie, fruit and vegetables, nuts, and other savories. All the other dishes were being kept warm in the ovens for when everyone arrived and was ready to settle around the dining table for dinner.

Bradley was positive that no one would leave feeling hungry. He also wasn’t entirely sure where the things his friends are bringing were going to go, but there were worse problems to have.

Penny had taken Amelia with her to visit her family on the East Coast. They’d decided it would probably be better for Mav to hang back in San Diego for the holiday, those tensions with her dad were still a bit strained even though they’d been married for almost four years now.

Which is how the Bradshaw’s were hosting their first Thanksgiving for everyone.

This morning had been organized chaos. Some of the last minute-things had only managed to be checked off with the assistance of strong coffee and a good playlist.

However, he’d still managed to sneak in the opportunity to spin you around the kitchen to your wedding song when it came up on shuffle. After all the cranberries were still popping and boiling down; there was time for it, he'd always make time for it.

But that was then.

Now, you are glaring at him like you’d been personally victimized by him and his cock.

“You complaining, sweet girl?” he asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the kitchen island watching as you briskly stir the gravy heating up in the copper sauce pot on the stove. “Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.”

You shoot him a look that would make a weaker man wither, but he’s built up an immunity to it over a lifetime of having it directed at him.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” you reprimand, but he sees the amusement in your eyes even as you fight to keep the annoyed façade on your face. “We’re behind schedule now. I thought I buffered in enough time, just in case-”

“Just in case you begged me to give you an orgasm to, and I quote, ‘help me chill out’?”

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead.

“All I’m saying is that if my beautiful wife is begging for me, I’m certainly not going to say no. I’m only human,” he says with an all too pleased shrug.

Bradley grabs the can opener and works on opening the canned cranberry sauce. He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right, the scalloped white one with gold rim.

“For the record, I certainly did not beg,” you say primly, glowering into the homemade stuffing that you’d had him get the bread from the nice bakery across town for.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, the smirk growing wider on his face as he sets to freeing the jelly from its rippled container.

He knows he shouldn’t tease you right now, but you’re so cute when you get huffy that he can’t help himself. He’s known that petulant raise of your chin his whole life. And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out.

You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything.

“Do I still look ok? Or do I need to do a quick refresh before everyone gets here?” you ask. You turn to fully face him, tilting your head one way and then another for his inspection.

He would happily stare at you all day if you’d let him. He loves your pretty eyes and what you’ve done with your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he grins, “And if anyone asks, we can just say you’re flushed from all the cooking.”

“Bradley,” you whine setting down your wooden spoon down on the counter with a sharp thwack.

“Ok, ok. I’m done, I promise,” he says putting his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

He pushes off the counter and grabs a glass off of one of the floating shelves and fills it with some ice water.

“Good,” you tut haughtily, as you fiddle with the white and orange striped kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, “I was about to threaten to make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“You wouldn’t.” Even the thought of it makes his stomach feel unsettled.

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other.

His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm.

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” you agree, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his cheek in thanks when he presses the cold glass into your hands.

Bradley tugs you away from the warm stove and you reluctantly follow and sit on the barstool he’s pulled out for you on the other side of the kitchen island.

He runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly as you take a few sips, “We’re in a great place, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure, of course.” You couldn’t sound less unsure if you tried. “It’s just… I’m nervous about the mushroom and leeks bread pudding. I’ve never made it before. And what if we run out of wine?”

“What’s been our motto?” he asks, taking over the helm at the stove whisking the gravy together as it begins to thicken.

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head. 

“Atta girl, we sure do. And Nat said she’s is bringing a few bottles she picked up from when she went to Napa, the good shit. It’s going to be great. Trust me,” he says giving you a warm smile. “Will it make you feel better to go over everything again?”

“Yes, please,” you say, anxiously drumming your fingers along the side of your water glass.

He’d stepped up where he could like making sure the house was pristine and cleaning up the yard by blowing off the wrinkled remainders of the yellow Tipuana flowers. He’d even been able to source and rent some more chairs to make sure that everyone would have a seat at the table.

Bradley wasn’t a schlump in the kitchen. He knew his way around a cookbook and a stove. His knife skills were pretty damn good too, if he did say so himself. But he also knew when somethings were out of his wheelhouse. So he’d taken to being your sous chef, and had taken to washing and prepping the ingredients for you so that all you had to do was toss them in whatever shiny pot they were destined for.

He even made his mom’s favorite pie. It had been years since he's had it, and he was excited to share it with everyone.

Your mom had mailed the copy of the original recipe she had that was written in Carole’s rounded, flourished script. You had made a photocopy of it to use so that the original didn’t get ruined, and then pointed out a spot on the wall where you said you’d thought it would look nice in a frame hanging in the kitchen. And he'd fallen a little more in love with you.

“Ok, hit me with it,” he says turning the heat to low for the gravy and putting the lid on.

This was a partnership through and through, he was going to give you all the support you needed.

“The turkey?”

Bradley picks up the fancy digital meat thermometer he’d bought for the occasion to check, “Big Bird has an hour and twenty more minutes to work on his tan and then he’ll rest for another thirty. Giving people time to graze and mingle and get some drinks in them, just like you wanted.”

You nod and hum contemplatively, “I’ve been thinking we need a salad. I don’t feel like we have enough vegetable options.”

He knows better than to point out that you’re currently snacking on snap peas from not one, but three, of the veggie platters the two of you had put together the night before.

“We’ve got the crispy brussels sprouts, the garlic and hazelnut green beans, and the honey glazed carrots with lemon. We’re more than fine on the fiber and beta-carotene. Michelle Obama would be proud, kid.”

That gets a little laugh from you.

“Well, as long as you think Michelle would be happy than we’re probably fine,” you say with a smile around your water glass that tells him you know exactly what he’s doing invoking your favorite First Lady.

“What else are you thinking about?” Bradley asks peering in the lower of their double ovens, where foiled covered dishes are lined up in perfect symmetry are warming away having been prepared in advance.

“Do you think two bags of rolls will be enough? Or should I text Mav and ask him to grab one more?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dip down to his ass in his gray slacks. So he might linger as second longer than necessary to let you enjoy the view, since it’s for the female gaze and all.

He’s never understood wearing the most restrictive clothing on the holiday that involves the most eating, but that was Penny’s tradition to have everyone dressed in their nicest and you had insisted on keeping it going even if she was on the other side of the country.

You’d teased him earlier when you’d seen him emerge from the bedroom wearing the short-sleeved green cashmere polo you’d gotten him a couple years ago. It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well.

“When did we become the couple that matches?” you’d asked gesturing to your dress as you gave him an appreciative onceover.

If the past was anything to go off of, you would be running your hands over the soft material covering his chest and back all night.

“I just like reminding people who I belong with, sweet girl.”

He might have had something else in mind to wear for the evening before he saw you in that dress, had ironed the shirt the night before and everything, but last-minute pivot it was well worth it when you looked at him like that.

When he stands back up, he gives you knowing wink.

And in return you throw a baby carrot at him with a laugh.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least to hear the quick clack-clack-clack of nails on the wood floors as their fluffy black and white Portuguese Water Dog rounds the corner. Having been summoned by the sound of food hitting the floor from where he had been dozing near the fireplace in the living room.

The carrot is gone in an instant and he comes to sit at Bradley's feet by the stove, looking up at him from under his curly eyebrows clearly hoping he'll get another snack.

“Nah, bud. You’re barking up the wrong tree over here,” he says leaning down to scratch his floppy ears.

“Ah, come here, Duck,” you croon, calling him over to your side of the island. “He’s so mean for a man who claimed he just saw God not too long ago, isn’t he?”

Bradley snorts and shakes his head at you amused.

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck.

At the dog park, more often than not people mistook it for ‘Buck’. And you were usually off to the side more than happy to let him take the lead, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his less than enthusiastic expression when he’d have to warily explain yet again It’s Duck like quack.

You’re not even subtle about the piece of cheese you pull from the charcuterie board to feed him.

“I saw that,” he says, giving you a pointed lift of his eyebrow, “You know Bob is going to be spoiling him all night.”

“It was just a little piece of cheese. Plus, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. I saw you go over there and deliver him his own little veggie platter with some of the leftovers we had while I was making the apple cider sangria.”

“That’s different, that’s good for him,” he says rounding the island, reaching over and snagging his own slice of cheese to snack on.

“And cheese is a protein. He’s just a baby, Bradley, what am I supposed to do? Not give him a piece of swiss?” You slide off your chair to squat down and rub Duck’s belly, you’ve always been his favorite.

“He’s almost five,” he replies flatly.

“A youth!” you exclaim, “He’s a growing boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley says affectionately with a little roll of his eyes. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

He offers you his hand to help you stand back up, but you wave him off and pull yourself up using the edge of the island. You take a moment to readjust your dress before making your way to the sink by the big windows that look out into the backyard.

“Speaking of Bob, do you know if he’s bringing his fiancée?” you ask from over your shoulder as you wash your hands.

“Not this time, sweetheart. I guess she volunteered to cover a shift in the NICU when she heard they were short staffed.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I was excited to see her ring in person,” you say drying off your hands and heading to the pantry.

“It’s all he can talk about at work. I guess they’re thinking about a Spring wedding next year. They don’t want to wait too long to get married.”

“I’m so happy for them,” you say, digging around for a moment and then emerge with a stack of some sturdy plastic plates and set them on the last free spot on the countertop. “Don’t let me forget to make them up a couple plates that he can bring home for her, before Fanboy declares it time for ‘second dinner’ and eats all the yams like he did last year.”

“I won’t forget, promise,” he says fondly.

If you were facing him, he knows you’d probably tease him for the look on his face and just how gone he is for you.

You’ve always been so generous, it’s one of the things that he loves most about you.

You were always good about hustling him out of his well-earned money from is part time job scooping ice cream in high school, like with the fundraiser you did for the local soup kitchen and the one for the elementary school summer arts program.

He’s always been wrapped around your finger, it just took him awhile to realize why.

It’s the same reason why there’s been a donation that comes out of his bank account every month for the last five years for one of the San Diego animal shelters.

Bradley had made a rather sizable donation and then set up a smaller reoccurring monthly one after the chaos that was the time Bob had set you up with his friend who worked at the shelter, back before the two of you had gotten together.

Even after all these years, he still can’t help but get a little irritated every time he sees that guy’s face in the monthly newsletter that comes to his email. He’s pretty sure Casey still might have a little crush on you, but Bradley can’t blame him. He’d have a hard time getting over you too, so it’s a good thing he’ll never have to.

On newsletter day, Bradley always finds himself giving Duck extra treats.

You are his wife. And Duck is his dog. Ridiculous name and all.

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations.

Only five more years to go.

You’re over by the bar that’s been set up off to the side, straightening the already very straight rows of gleaming wine glasses when he hears you suck in a sharp gasp.

Bradley drops the dish cloth he had in his hands as he attempted to give what little counter space there was left a final wipe down and is in front of you in half a heartbeat. Was there a fluke with some faulty stemware? Are you bleeding? There’s a reason Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days at the hospital.

“The butter!” you cry out as you whirl around, your pretty eyes welling up with tears, “I let you fuck me and I forgot to pull the butter from the fridge. It’s going to be too hard for people to spread now!”

He knows it’s more than just hosting jitters that’s got you like this, but it still catches him by surprise sometimes.

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.”

You make a distressed noise but allow him to keep his hold on you, “But the butter…”

“I already pulled the butter, see?” He points to the sticks that are already softening away on the counter. “This place looks and smells amazing. We did good, baby. Will you take a couple slow breaths for me, please?”

Bradley takes in a couple measured breathes with you, and feels the moment your body relaxes into his.

He presses a kiss to the side of your temple as he smooths his hands down your soft, pretty green velvet dress and the warm, firm curve of your rounded stomach soothingly.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones,” you sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

He hums empathically as he sways gently side to side with you in his arms.

“I would like to go on the record saying that I like pregnancy hormones, especially the ones from earlier,” he jokes lightly.

“That makes one of us,” you say with a watery laugh, “Just wait until I am waking you up at 4 AM because I am craving something from a drive-thru that’s not open.”

“Mm, can’t wait,” he murmurs before dropping a few kisses along the soft line of your jaw.

Bradley still can’t believe he gets to be this lucky in life.

He doesn’t want to forget a single moment of this. With you, with his family.

“We did a really good job with this one,” he whispers into your ear, still stroking your stomach and enjoying this moment of calm with you.

“We really did, da--” Bradley groans and cuts you off with a kiss. He can feel the impish smile plastered on your lips as he kisses you. His favorite menace.

He knows you’re pretty sure it was the spontaneous hook up in the storage closet at the Hard Deck on the Fourth of July that’s responsible for the noticeable bump you’re sporting. Call him a romantic, but he likes to think it was that night in the Bronco overlooking the ocean when he’d taken the long way back home.   

You pull away all too soon for his liking to grab his left hand. He sees the flash of the two diamonds on your engagement ring, one from his mom and one from yours, as you take it and press it to a spot near your bellybutton.

The feeling of the fluttering under his palm will never get old. He’s not too proud to say he’d shed a tear or two the first time he’d felt it.

You hum in contentment, your finger lightly tracing over the shiny gold band of his wedding ring.

Bradley lets himself bask in this moment as the two of you stand there in the kitchen of your dream house.

There are a few pops from the wood in the fireplace, the refrigerator is humming away in the background, and he can just hear the sounds of a melodic piano from the playlist he queued up earlier playing over the speaker.

Of all the delicious scents that waft through the house, the smell the floral and musk notes in you perfume is still his favorite.

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you.

It’s the only reason he can think of that explains why you fit so perfectly against his body.

Why his palms can fit so perfectly over your rounded stomach.

Why it’s his hands that you have trusted to protect your heart.

And he’s still holding you in the warmth of the kitchen when he hears the front door open.

Bradley knows he’s going to have to play host soon and he just wants to keep you in his arms for just a little longer.

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry.

You spin in his arms, looking at him wide eyed and confused as you two exchange a look. He presses one last kiss to your cheek before letting you go.

“Thought you were going to bring the rolls, Mav,” Bradley calls out just in time to see him round the corner.

Pete stands there proudly grinning holding a few bags of bakery rolls in one hand and a turkey in the other.

The sound of your delighted laughter makes his heart swell in his chest as he takes in the sight.

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” you gush as you go to greet Mav with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Your son’s chubby arms reaching out for you.

Mav has dressed your almost two-year-old son in a soft, plush turkey costume that is complete with tailfeathers and a beak. He’s clearly a fan of the outfit too because he is grinning widely, showing of the more of the baby teeth that have come in over the last few months.

Mav had swung by early this morning to take him off your hands to get ready for Daggersgiving without chasing an almost-toddler around. While it was nice to have some time just the two of you while you got the place in order and took care of the last-minute things, like that homemade cranberry sauce, but he’d missed not having his son around.

The sweet sound of Cooper’s giggles and your coos fill up the kitchen as he watches you pepper his face with kisses. You bounce him a little and do a little spin, making the little boy laugh even more. The two of you in your own little bubble.

“You doin’ ok over there, kid?” Mav asks. A soft, knowing grin on his face as he sets the rolls on the counter to pull him in for a hug.

The two men had made their way back to each other over the last few years, just another thing that Bradley was grateful for in his life. The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who helped raised him hold his son for the first time.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.”

From there it’s a flurry of activity as people start to arrive.

Nat comes with her longtime girlfriend and the extra bottles of the fancy Napa wine she promised to bring. Only handing it over once he promised to give her the name of the contractor the two of you had worked with and the exact shade of green that was used on the lower cabinets during your kitchen renovation.

Payback and Fanboy and their wives show up wearing oversized turkey hats on their heads each carrying a bakery box of pie.

Bradley isn’t surprised when Duck ditches the attention that Coyote was giving him the second Bob shows up with the famous Floyd family scalloped potatoes. Bob has always been a sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes.

And in between checking on people’s glasses, swapping out empty appetizer trays for fuller ones, and making sure Jake doesn’t tamper with his perfectly cooked turkey, he’s got his eyes trained on you.

There are no words for the pride and love that washes over him every time he looks over and sees you with his son propped up on your hip and the way your pretty dress stretches around your growing family.

He had missed this stage of your pregnancy when he was deployed and you were pregnant with Cooper. He was determined to savor every second of this one. Every butter related freak out and every late-night milkshake run.

Being in his house surrounded with all the people he loves, minus a couple who are here in spirit, isn’t something he could ever take for granted. It’s more blessings than he ever hoped to receive in this lifetime.

You look over your shoulder at him and everything about the way you’re looking at him is picture perfect.

Your smile sunshine gold and just for him as you hold his gaze for a moment as time ticks on around the two of you. You send him a little wink before turning back to Mav who has his phone held up for a FaceTime call with Penny and Amelia.

Bradley sees his son peek his head up from where it had been nestled into your neck. Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him.

As he makes his way over to the two of you with his heart full, he makes a mental note to ask Mav later where he got that costume. He’s already planning on running out tomorrow to see if they have any more in stock now that it seems they have a new Bradshaw tradition on their hands.

He’s going to have three little turkeys running around this time next year and he couldn’t wait.

Twins.

Bradley sometimes still couldn’t believe it. When the tech has announced that you were cooking not one, but two future Bradshaw’s, his heart had nearly burst from his chest from the shock and joy. A gift from his late father’s side of the family.

Cooper and him were going to be outnumbered soon.

The two of you had found out earlier in the month that Everly Wren Bradshaw and Millie Lark Bradshaw were going to be the newest members to join your little family.

His girls.

It was an announcement the two of you were excited to share later tonight with everyone else when the slices of pies were being passed around.

He scoops up Cooper from you with one arm, dropping a kiss onto his little boy’s perfect curls as his small fist clutches as the soft fabric of his shirt. And then Bradley kisses the crown of your head as he wraps his other arm around you, his thumb stroking the swell of your belly.

With you- because of you- he gets to have it all.

The wife. The family. The house. The dog. The life. The dream.

He’s right where he wants to be.

He’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Happy Thanksgiving! This was such a joy to write, thank you for reading!

It might not be Carole Bradshaw's famous pie, but it's one of my favorites! And who better to share it with than you! Cranberry-Lime Pie

If you haven't read the 'Like I Can' series you can read it here!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Two-Faced[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Honestly I’ve tried to edit this so many times I can no longer tell if I like it or not? Also this is a prequel to Desk Pet and goes along with that universe but can be read on its own 🧡💛

warnings: non-con, shadow play(?), bdsm themes, suggested breeding kink, smut, overstimulation, somnophilia, suggested dacryphilia(?), a little peak into Rhys’ mind at the end

word count: 8,875

-Desk Pet- -Play-Mate-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You glance into the mirror, readjusting how the thin golden chain hangs around your neck, the small pendant sitting pretty between your breasts.

Easing in a deep breath, you check everything else is appropriately placed, nothing revealing too much skin, no fabric dipping where it shouldn’t, everything neatly wrapped up. You could swear you can see how your heart pulses in your chest in the reflection, a slight shudder passing beneath your flesh as you think ahead to what might unfold.

The deep purple gown settles comfortably over your body, dark and velvety, the neckline modest without being conservative, the hem of the skirts brushing just shy of your feet, sleeves that run down to your wrists, locked in matching golden chains, slim and elegant. Your lips are painted darker than usual to match the purple of your dress, with small golden pins keeping some strands of hair in place. Is it too much?

Dining with a High Lord… Even if you’re friendly, you don’t want to suggest something you can’t give, nor flirt where you can’t fulfil.

In the recent months, you know you haven’t been imagining the intensity in his eyes, how they sweep so deliciously over you, slowly, under the guise of polite appreciation. But there’s nothing polite about the way he looks at you. How it sets your skin on fire, pulse spiking with the slightest curve of his mouth. How your breath hitches whenever his skin brushes yours, fingers grazing your waist to guide you someplace—gentle dominance that makes your body flush with heat. Even at the faintest hint of his scent, you’d found yourself seeking out his gaze, as if sharing in a forbidden fantasy together.

Maybe it’s your fault for letting it get too far. Letting it escalate without consideration for how high he might truly be able to take you. He certainly isn’t the only male in your life. You hadn’t even realised how far things had gone with Rhys until the male you’d been seeing casually had brought it up, and you’d felt a tug of guilt in your gut. The two of you weren’t together exactly, but it definitely wasn’t just sex. There was too much emotional intimacy for it to be such a black-and-white situation. Emotions bleeding over where they should have been kept in line.

A triptych of knocks are landed to your door, gentle but firm, and you tear your gaze away from your reflection—attractive as it is, you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

Easing in a breath, you open the door, pulse spiking as you take him in, raising your chin to meet his violet gaze.

On the wooden deck of your house, stood beneath the warm faelight to illuminate the entranceway, he dominates the space, your attention zeroing in on his figure, dressed immaculately as usual, shirt revealing a peak at the appetisingly tan skin beneath, a suggestion of ink peering over the hem of the linen.

“Rhysand,” you greet with a smile, opening the door wider, previous worries forgotten as he takes up your attention whole. “Rhysand?” He drawls, brow quirking in amusement as he leans forward, and you step into his invitation. “Have I done something to irritate you?” He muses beside your ear, bodies pressed a little closer than appropriate as your arms wrap over his shoulders. His palm splays between your shoulder blades, pressing you deeper into his sturdy heat, spine arching under his direction. “You show up dressed as you are—I thought you said this was a casual dinner,” you smile as you pull away, arms still wrapped around one another.

Violet eyes sweep across your features, the skin between your shoulder-blades tingling beneath his broad palm, and that intensity burns down into you. “You look like this for casual dinners?” He replies, lips curving with amusement. “I look like this for my High Lord,” you reply, rolling your eyes playfully, stepping out of his hold, already missing his heat. “Will you tell me where we’re going to dine? Or are you going to insist on keeping it a secret until the last second?”

“The last second might be a bit of a stretch,” he chuckles, offering you his arm, “but I know how you like surprises, so perhaps arrangements can be made.”

“You could winnow us there with ease,” you muse lightly, linking your arm with his, door closing at your back as he guides you down the steps leading into your front garden, then out into the street.

Violet eyes flick over you, your skin tightening beneath his open attention, meeting his gaze. “A lady deserves preparation,” he replies, heat fluttering in your lower abdomen at the sonorous drawl. “I’m sure you’d still succeed with the surprise element regardless,” you laugh, lips warm from the smile. “I suppose I could always blindfold you?” He suggests, and you gently elbow him, rolling your eyes again, trying to quell the traitorous heat that’s unspooling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d trip up and break something,” you counter fondly, swiftly averting you gaze so he won’t be able to somehow read your emotions. The attraction that always seems to become much more prominent in his presence. More pertinent, and palpable.

“I could direct you,” he replies lightly, a curve to his soft mouth, “I like to think I’m fairly good at giving instructions.”

“You’re practiced at giving orders. There’s a difference,” you counter, unable to help the smile on your lips—that’s undoubtedly shining in your eyes. “Besides, I don’t trust myself in heels.”

“You certainly picked a tricky pair,” he admits, glancing down to the thin golden strings wrapped around your ankles, disappearing beneath your dress. “I’m sure I’ll be regretting that by the end of the night,” you sigh, taking care to avoid any uneven surfaces. “If you need a reprieve, feel free to say,” he chuckles lowly, guiding you down another street, and you silently admire how seamlessly he blends in with the inky darkness of his court. “I’d be more than happy to sweep you off your feet, if needed.”

————

You’d been surprised when he’d taken you not to a pre-established restaurant but to a house he’d recently purchased by the riverside—for ample view of the Sidra, he’d explained, when you’d asked why he’d picked that part of the city.

He’d guided you in, as he usually does when you’re out together, a hand kept lightly against your lower back to keep you steady, especially when passing over cobbles. You’d noticed how his touch had smoothly migrated from lightly brushing against your skin on the way into the house, to settling securely around your waist once away from the public, a response of equal parts concern and satisfaction humming in your chest. It’s hard to keep your head when he singles you out so obviously—like there’s something special about you in particular. Something he can only find in you. How are you supposed to resist a male who makes you feel so treasured?

“You certainly succeeded with surprising me,” you smile, leaning back in your chair, content with the meal—mansaf, with goat’s meat. “I didn’t know you could cook like that?” You muse, meeting his gaze across the cozy table, tucked away in an alcove on the library he’s slowly filling up, tall windows to your right, providing a clear view of the Sidra, rooftops shadowed under the night’s sky. His smile isn’t as full as you’d hoped, instead seeming quieter than usual. “I don’t have much time to indulge anymore,” he answers, and you straighten in your seat. “It would be nice, to pursue my own interests. From time to time.”

Your expression softens as you watch him from across the table—he makes it easy to forget the things he’s withstood. It’s easy to speak with him, to be around him.

“I appreciate you finding the time to do so tonight,” you say quietly, briefly glancing down at your empty plate before returning your gaze to his. “It was delicious.” His eyes twinkle, and a small smile makes its way onto your mouth at the familiar gleam. “I’m glad you thought so,” he admits, “it’s been a while.”

“If this is how you are out of practice, it might be for the better you don’t have more time on your hands. You’d run people out of business,” you say quietly.

There’s a pause that passes between you, and you feel yourself being pulled in, already so thoroughly snared by his riptides you haven’t noticed you’ve been pulled under.

“I know it isn’t much,” you say lowly, a little roughly, pushing up from your seat to walk to his side. “But you deserve the time to indulge in your own interests, Rhys. To be able to enjoy life like the people you devote yourself to protecting do.” Violet eyes lift to yours, swirling and depthless, pulling you further down. “You’ve mentioned what that time was like,” you manage quietly, voice thick with emotion, at all he’s sacrificed to keep Velaris safe. To keep his people safe. “I can’t even imagine what it was like,” you murmur, hand resting gently on his shoulder, hoping you aren’t overstepping.

It isn’t often he talks about what had been done to him, what he’d been forced to do, but when he does…you listen. Take in every word, let him know you hear him, at the very least. That he has someone he can share his life with, someone he can come to when he’s alone, and know you’ll be there.

“You’re out now,” you whisper, “you made it.”

“I’m in pieces,” he murmurs, expression neutral despite the sadness of the admission.

“It’s okay to be in pieces, Rhys,” you reply, stepping into him when he shifts to face you, his hand coming to rest atop your own, fingers dancing to your wrist, wrapping over your forearm carefully. As if afraid to break you, too. “You’re allowed to grieve yourself, after what happened.”

His fingers tighten a little around your wrist, then he’s smoothly standing from his chair, though you don’t step back, keeping together as his hand slowly settles on your waist.

“I don’t think…” he trails off, voice breathy and hushed, and you hold him a little tighter, free palm settling on his upper arm. His throat rolls, and he pulls you the barest bit closer, bodies connecting as heat is shared and swapped, scents pushing together. “I don’t think I’m the same as I was before,” he admits quietly, violet eyes pinning you to the floor, touch pressing into your skin. “That’s okay,” you whisper, “time changes people. It’s okay to shift in essence.”

“No. Not like that,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your own, your hand brushing against his jaw, his palms wrapping tighter around you, growing more assured in their hold, like you’re becoming a part of him. “I can’t stand it,” he admits, brow pressing to your own, his eyes shut, a troubled expression on his beautiful features. “I can’t stand it anymore.”

You peer up at him, now cupping his face in both your hands, leaning into him. “What is it?” You ask softly, “you can tell me. I want to know what’s troubling you.” Violet eyes open slightly, darkened by his lashes as he looks down at you, brows furrowed in what looks like indecision. Or regret. But then it’s gone in a flash, easing out into something more calm, and familiar. “I want to be happy,” he confesses quietly, words brushing over your mouth so tenderly. “I don’t want to be alone again. How I was.”

“You aren’t alone,” you murmur, thumb brushing his cheek. “You have your family, you’re back with them again—you’re back here again. You survived.” But he shakes his head, and you push slightly closer, letting him know whatever he wants, he can confess to you. You’ll be there for him if he needs.

“I can’t stand not having it anymore,” he breathes, hold tightening on you, voice deeper, rougher, than before. “I should be happy, shouldn’t I?”

Your brows pull together, curving as you nod, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, slotting yourself into the familiar lines of his body. “Everyone deserves to be happy,” you whisper, heart aching, “even if they don’t believe so.” You swallow, feeling hot beneath his gaze, but refusing to step away, not when this is the most vulnerable he’s ever allowed himself to be with you. “If you…” you swallow again, eyes darting away briefly before returning to his. “If you know what you want…” You trail off, bewitched by the swirling intensity of his gaze. Your breath catches, aware of how close you are, how intimate the embrace has become. “…you should have it, Rhys.”

He exhales heavily, relief loosening the tension in his body, then he’s leaning forward, mouth opening over yours.

You freeze, not having expected the bold action, but quickly melt beneath his touch, all previous thought fading to nothing as his lips slant over yours, soft and hot, and his hands are moving across the planes of your body, strengthening as you’re pulled impossibly closer. He’s a really good kisser.

His tongue flicks out, and you start, reeling from his pace, but he’s gently turning you around, mouth still sealed against your own as he pushes you into the wall, hips against your own while his arm wraps tight around your waist, other hand settling over the nape of your neck that’s so small in comparison. Your palms stutter as they shift, unsure where to place them, having been swept off your feet, caught with your guard down. You hadn’t realised just how intense the attraction had become—for either of you.

Rhys makes a hungry sound from the back of his throat, and your insides flutter, spine arching into him, breasts pressing fully against his chest—but you need to slow down. You hadn’t planned on any of this unfolding so rapidly, had intended to be wary of his advances, of the mutual lust binding you together. It’s dominating; overpowering, mind-warping to struggle against, but you have enough sense to know acting on this desire will only confuse things. Mixing tender affection with the sharpened blades of lust never ends well.

“Rhys,” you murmur, pulling away enough to get his name out, but his mouth seals over your own again, and you fight to not be dragged under by hunger, by your desire to follow in his motions. This isn’t something you can rush, if you want it to work. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging him back firmly, heat warming your cheeks. “Rhys, we—”

His hands leave your body, roughly gripping your wrists and shoving them back against the wall, hips keeping you pinned in place as he devours you, prying your mouth open with embarrassing ease, arousal making it hard to resist. His tongue stokes over your own, and a heady feeling rushes your veins, need pounding in your blood, losing grip fast as he sinks his claws into you.

Rhys pulls away from you, and you open your mouth to tell him to stop, but he’s dipping lower, attacking your neck as his canines flash, the kisses rapidly descending into untamed bites and claiming slashes of teeth against soft, unmarked skin. You gasp as he bites, putting his mark into your body, startled by your own enjoyment, how arousal is swiftly rising to meet him, as much as you’re trying to pull away. “Rhys…” you pant, struggling half-heartedly beneath his touch, enjoying how his strength dominates you, a display of power so brutal and fundamental something warms in your chest.

He releases your wrists in favour of roughly gripping your skirts, almost tearing them as they’re shoved up your thighs, making way for him as he grips you tight, hoisting you up so your legs wrap around his hips—allowing him to press against your centre, purple fabric pooled around your waist. Instinctively your arms fly over his shoulders, and then his mouth is reclaiming your own, a flashing frenzy of tongue and teeth that knocks you clean off your feet, heart pounding from the assault on your senses, the ticklish pleasure still tingling across the erogenous skin at your throat.

Your fingers shakily tangle in his hair, and he snarls into the kiss, canines scraping over your lower lip before crushing back against your mouth, the damper on his power waring thinner, and thinner, pressure straining on your bones as you tremble. He’s never come this close to removing it completely around you, and it’s terrifying, your heart pounding in your chest, pulse spiking as you begin to get an understanding of what kind of beast you’ve been taunting.

“Rhys!” You gasp as his hand palms over your breast, grinding between your thighs as he again dips down to your throat, feeling your heightened pulse beneath his teeth. Tongue darting out to taste you.

Your hands stutter over him, torn between trying to pull him away and to tug him closer, to take more of him, startled by the ferocious hunger he’s subjecting you to, and the starvation it’s bringing forth in your own body.

His fingers effortlessly slide beneath your dress, but when they brush the golden string that’s clinging to your right hip, it’s like a bucket of icy water has been speared into your bloodstream. Your palms slam down against his shoulders, leveraging yourself against the wall as you shove at him enough to push him away by an inch or two, allowing your legs to unlock from his hips, standing on your own shaky feet again, nearly collapsing thanks to the sharply-angled heels.

“Rhys, stop,” you demand breathlessly, hands flat against his powerful chest, able to feel how his magic thrums dangerously around you, beating in time with his pulse in deadly waves. “Slow down,” you breathe, gazing up into intensely dark violet, practically plunging into icy indigo, his features turning glacial as he looks down at you, caged in, your cheeks warmed from arousal. He steps closer, crowding your space, and you tense up, abruptly aware of how that lethal strength could just as easily be used against you rather than with you.

“What is it?” He drawls, the tone having hairs rising on the back of your neck in warning, a long lost sense rising from the recesses of your mind to scream its horror at the creature before you, steadily emerging from beautifully carved skin. “I…Rhys, I’m not sure about this,” you answer honestly, hands trembling over his chest, trying to even out your breaths. “I’m sorry,” you fumble, “it’s all happening so quickly—I didn’t expect anything to happen tonight.”

“Is that why you’re wearing these?” He asks lowly, and you stiffen as his fingers brush over your hip, now covered again by your dress, but you know he’s talking about your underwear, how it matches the gold of your jewellery, complimenting the regal purple of your gown.

“I—…that was for me,” you mumble, flushing, shying away from the pressure within his gaze, how his attention crushes down upon you. “So I’d feel more confident around you.”

“Confident?” He remarks lowly, roughly, the slow drag of the word tingling down your spine. “So you always wear something matching whenever you feel unsure?” You falter, glancing away, hands lowering a little but remaining against him, anxious to keep him at bay for the moment. “I’m sorry if I misled you,” you manage, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But I…if you’re only after sex, I can’t give you that.”

“You’d give more?” He asks breathlessly, pushing closer despite how you try to keep him away. “With someone else, I could manage a one-time thing,” you whisper, “but with you…”

A deep noise rumbles in his chest, male satisfaction resounding through you as your insides flutter, his hands coming to brace themselves on the wall, either side of your hips as he leans down, mere inches separating you. “You want something serious?” He asks quietly, roughly, and you nod, tilting your head to better see him.

His lips curve at the edges, pleased with your reply. “Then come with me,” he murmurs beside your ear, and your breaths stutter as his arousal wraps around you, stark and heady. His hand wraps around your wrist, making to take you elsewhere, but you pull against his hold. “I need you to slow down,” you manage firmly, getting stable footing on the ground—relatively stable, anyway.

“You were so eager a second ago,” he muses, the sonorous drawl returning, his eyes dark and deadly, able to scent your own arousal by now. He doesn’t release your wrist. “I’m allowed to change my mind,” you say firmly, lightly trying to pull away but to no avail. Either he doesn’t get the hint, or…you swallow thickly.

Violet eyes glint, a curve tilting the edges of his mouth. “And what have you changed your mind to?” He asks smoothly, as if indulging a child’s whim.

“I think a lot has happened tonight, and I want to go home and sleep on it,” you say, aware of how his touch is making your skin tingle. A strange weariness creeping over you, eyelids beginning to weigh as the adrenaline wares off.

A sadness flickers in his violet eyes, before it’s vanished, and he shakes his head. “I can’t stand it a moment longer,” he breathes, firmly pulling you into his body, knowing you’re unable to resist. His palm settles on your lower back, and you press your own hand to his chest in protest. “Rhys. Stop messing around,” you say, peering up at him, meeting hungry, dark eyes. “This isn’t funny. Let me go.”

“Lovely, little lamb,” he breathes, angling you so he can peer down at you, and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing intrusively into your middle. “You think I would joke when it comes to you?” He asks gently, violet eyes sweeping over you, and you shrink away, the ravenous lust making your legs feel weak. “I can hardly breathe right around you,” he whispers, “I ache for you. To feel you. To touch you. Don’t deny me for a second longer.”

Your lips part in shock, unable to formulate a response, and his eyes glint with approval, before he’s turning, forcefully dragging you from the room, hand shackled around your wrist as you try to struggle against him, to rip yourself from his hold, but he refuses to budge. You might as well be fighting against iron for how much give he allows.

“Rhys,” you call sharply, tugging away. “Rhysand!” You try grabbing onto a banister, but he’s too strong, and your hold slips away, heels practically clawing lines into the floorboards as you try to lean against him, to counterweight his force—to no avail. “Rhys let me go,” you bark, surging forward abruptly in attempt to knock into him, but he’s been trained as a warrior since birth, and has no difficulty in remaining stable.

“Stop struggling,” he demands lowly, piercing violet pinning you to the floor, and you’re utterly helpless as he effortlessly puts you over his shoulder, sweeping you off your feet with devastating ease. You start kicking, slamming your fists against his back, aiming either side of his spine as you scream at him to put you down, trying to dig your nails into his skin, to rip through his clothes to scratch and slice at him.

You recoil into yourself when his palm connects with your hind, body going taut as you freeze, horror and terror paralysing you, and he chuckles lowly. “Like that?” He asks, voice deeper, and your stomach drops when he reaches a bedroom, able to watch as the door clicks shut.

“Rhys,” you whisper, fear pounding through your veins. “Rhys, put me down.”

Panic roils in your gut as you’re roughly thrown down from his shoulder, knees pressing together as you land on the softness of his mattress, crisp sheets rustling as you try to squirm away from him, pushing further up the bed. “Rhys— Rhys listen to me,” you try, but he ignores you, looming like a nightmare as he grips your ankle, dragging you back toward him.

“Relax,” he muses, fingers biting into your skin as he pushes the deep purple of your dress higher, until you’re certain he’ll be able to see the gold material clinging between your thighs, presented with a perfect view between your legs. “You’ll feel good. You know you’ll feel good.”

“Rhys, fuck off!” You bark, voice shaking with terror, pressure building behind your eyes. “You can’t fucking do this. Just because she did it to you doesn’t mean you have the right to inflict it on other people.”

He snarls lowly at that, pinning you down in an instant, easily slotting between your thighs, his powerful body keeping you where he wants with ease. “I thought you cared, huh? I thought you were eager to be with me. What happened to that, hm?”

“You’re sick, Rhys,” you hiss, “this is sick. You’re fucking insane.”

“It’s okay to be a little insane,” he drawls, mimicking your earlier words of comfort, given in attempts to help him, but in doing so dooming yourself. “It’s more than a little,” you hiss, teeth flashing as you try to kick him off you, but he’s pressing himself flush between your thighs, leaving you without a hope in hell.

“I deserve to be happy, don’t I?” He murmurs so softly over your mouth, and in any other context your heart would have broken at the question—that he would even have to ask. But, “not at my expense, Rhys,” you hiss, heat warming behind your eyes. “Not at our expense.”

“I’m not sacrificing us,” he counters quietly, hand coming up to grip your jaw. “I’m joining us together.” He rolls his hips against yours, feeling him against your sex, how the pressure grinds over your clit, deliciously traitorous heat gathering in response, and you’re utterly helpless as his lips curve into a slight grin, sadism gleaming from deep within his violent gaze.

“I don’t want to join with you,” you spit back, trying to push him away, but darkness gathers on his bed, keeping your wrists bound to the mattress as he lowers his mouth to your throat, kissing and biting his way down your skin, painting a pathway of bruises while his hands glide up your thighs, catching beneath the material of your dress. His lips brush the hem of its neckline, and then he’s smoothly pulling it away, leaving you practically bare.

Your High Lord pulls back, tan skin flushed, pupils dilated with dizzying hunger as he gazes down at his prey, the golden fabric clinging to your hips as you squirm, ankles wrapped in that gilded string, keeping your heels in place, the elegant little chains decorating your wrists, settling around your throat. He groans lowly, rough palms splaying over your waist, resting there gently as he rolls his hips against you, into you, taking his time pulling you apart. Savouring your struggle.

“You were desperate for it minutes ago,” he drawls lowly, right palm raising over your stomach, the pads of his fingers brushing with a feather-light touch upward, starting from your lower abdomen, gliding slowly to your sternum, pleased to feel how your breath hitches beneath his touch. “You’ll be desperate again soon enough.”

“Go to hell, Rhys,” you manage, lip curling back to showcase sharp canines—a set he’d gladly allow to pierce his skin. The only set he’d allow to mark him ever again. “This isn’t fucking okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” he breathes, and your throat rolls heavily as his fingers begin the slow, torturous descent back down your body, trailing over your abdomen, stroking down over the golden fabric, running lightly over your centre. “It’s better.”

Heat flushes your skin as his rough palms grip the underside of your thighs, just above your knees, raising your legs up and out of the way, pressing them close to your torso so he has more room. Callouses drag against your skin, a reminder of his strength, the warrior that’s concealed beneath his finely tailored exterior. He is the embodiment of power.

“Rhys, stop,” you breathe as he settles at the edge of the bed, violet eyes hungrily licking over your clothed sex. You squirm, trying to shift your hips, but his lips brush over your abdomen, and then his teeth are clasping the band of your underwear. He gazes up at you intently, slowly dragging it back—tauntingly; teasingly—until he releases it to snap back against your skin.

“Rhys…” you murmur shakily, the understanding finally beginning to dawn across you that he might go through with it. “Rhys, please. You’re better than this.” Violet gleams with ravenous hunger, dark and starved, and he presses forward, mouth a breath’s width from your sex. “Shall I show you how much better I can be?”

You swallow thickly beneath that look, but manage to nod your head. If you can just get him to pull away, to remove the bonds of your wrists…

Your lips part in a sharp gasp, writhing beneath him as he presses his face between your legs, violet eyes closing as he takes in his own heaven, submerging himself in your scent, your heat. You try to buck away from him, to get further from his mouth, but it only serves to make you more aware of how he’s invading, though his grip has lessened on your thighs.

He exhales heavily, contentedly, shifting between your legs and your muscles coil tense, nails piercing your palms as his nose brushes against… Your toes curl, thighs trying to press together, to ward him away, but he keeps you spread apart effortlessly.

Eventually he pulls back, violet eyes glued to your clothed sex as his fingers hook in the golden strings lacing over your hips, slowly pulling them away. His gaze practically glows, pupils dilating as he peels away the wet material, shame and humiliation burning hot in your gut. Eyes flick up to you, and you force yourself to meet them, to not yield and look away—to not admit defeat. “You’re wet,” he breathes lowly, roughly, depthless hunger swirling in the pits of his pupils. “That means nothing,” you hiss, trying to writhe away from him, fearing what practices his mind will conjure. “I think it means quite a lot more than that, darling,” he breathes, pulling your underwear away completely, then pressing it back to your heat.

You inhale sharply as his fingers run up over you, slow but firm strokes, circling your entrance through the golden fabric, and your pulse spikes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing now?” You snap, voice shaking with fear, darkness now banding around beneath your knees to keep them apart as he stands, peeling your underwear away. Embarrassment flushes your skin when you catch their gleam, how thoroughly soaked they are.

Rhys’s cruel mouth curves, and you writhe on his bed, trying to turn away as he pushes the wet material between your lips, long fingers prying them apart. Your tongue recoils, trying to pull away, but his grin widens, a pleasured sound coming from deep within his chest as he feels you struggle. “Do you taste good?” He asks lowly, fingers stroking over your tongue, “like having that in your mouth? I bet you’re only getting wetter by the second,” he breathes, pupils fully dilated.

You release a sound that should be disgusted, but comes out as more of a whimper. His breath catches at the noise, able to see how his cock is straining against his trousers but he leaves himself unattended—for now.

He returns between your legs, and a noise between a whimper and a snarl rips from your throat, heat flaring across your skin as he licks up your centre, broad palms keeping your thighs absolutely open for him to indulge.

“Rhys,” you panic, feeling pressure build behind your eyes, managing to spit out the fabric that had been gagging you. “Rhys please. Please stop. We can— We can figure something out—”

His tongue swipes over your clit, making you jolt and squirm, trying desperately to thrash against his hold but it’s like being chained up, his grip stricter than iron as he applies himself, suckling at the impossibly sensitive part effortlessly, as if he’s familiar with how your body works. As if he knows already exactly where to touch, suck, and fuck to have you drooling dumb.

Breaths pant from your lips, hips wiggling as one hand trails down your thigh, and you know exactly what he’s planning to do with those long, dexterous fingers of his…exactly how they’ll feel inside of you, how they’ll know where to push and rub at to have you dripping onto his knuckles.

“You want me to stop?” He breathes lowly, roughly, thumbing at your entrance, liking how you tighten around nothing as if eager to invite him in. “You know I could make you feel like an immortal,” he growls, mouth prone to attach your clit with his tongue and teeth should you try to rebuke him. “I could take you higher…further than anyone’s ever taken you before.”

“I don’t fucking want it,” you hiss, lip curled as heat wets your eyes, trying to blink away the hot tears in favour of sending him a look of pure hatred.

Rhys blinks his violet eyes, then smiles, pulling away.

“Give me five minutes?” He muses lowly, a starving glint in his gaze, darkened and scheming. You snarl, then inhale sharply when the darkness releases you, completely freeing you. Immediately you sit upright, pulling your legs together, but refusing to cower before him—keeping your hands at your sides, gripping the sheets to prevent yourself from recoiling physically.

“You don’t deserve a single second of my time,” you spit, blinking away the tears as you snarl. “I regret how much I’ve already spent on you.”

“Not even a single second?” He laughs, hands sliding calmly into the pockets of his finely tailored trouser, perfectly encapsulating the raw power contained within his body. “I’m not sure if I can take you there in an instant without hurting you somewhere,” he drawls almost apologetically, but his violet eyes spark. “But if that’s all you’ll give me…” he murmurs, softer than a breath.

Your breathing pattern spikes, heat flushing intently beneath his gaze. Talons swiftly enter your mind, and you’re utterly helpless as your body starts to tremble, terrifying heat swelling with such ferocity your vision goes tilted, muscles feeling like custard as you fall back into the bed. Your spine arches on its own, toes curling eyes squeezing shut as he plies the orgasm from your body, easing out your pleasure while he stands at the foot of the bed, idly licking at the pad of his thumb that had prodded against your entrance.

Your lips part as it intensifies, and you scramble, thrashing in the bed, a choked noise erupting from your chest as you feel the high in your entire body, like there are hands touching, feeling all across your body, tongues lapping over your nipples, sets of teeth biting at your throat, lips sealing over your clit as fingers pump and curl inside of you.

The scream rises swiftly, limbs trembling violently as sweat is forced through your skin from the abrupt intensity, the orgasm absolutely devastating as you lose all control of yourself, moaning unabashedly as those feelings are drawn out—as Rhysand draws them out. His fingers the ones inside of you, his teeth piercing your skin, his tongue circling your clit.

“Do you want it to stop,” he muses, unable to help licking his lips at the obscene sight before him, the scent of it filtrating into his blood, rushing straight to his cock, hot and heavy between his legs.

The words jumble and melt across your mind, splashing like melted butter into your head, and struggle—for what? For more? For more.

He chuckles lowly, and you scream as he forces you through a second one, having it break like the surf across jagged rocks, arousal dripping down your thighs, webbing between your legs as you try to press them together only for the darkness to spread you apart. Definitely more than wet enough to fill a shot glass or two.

You pant heavily. Ragged, gasping breaths as wild heat ravishes your skin, pleasure bursting at the seams of your body, a perfectly ripe fruit dripping with flavour, ready to break beneath the slightest pressure from a set of sharp, piercing canines the second they graze your skin. And Rhysand is more than happy to bite.

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, so you can only feel the mattress dip as he prowls up onto the bed, pinning you down, caging you effortlessly between his powerful, ruining arms.

The High Lord allows your orgasm to wash away slowly, bringing you back to the plane of reality he’s on, your skin hot and dewy from the intense pleasure he’s forced you full of. Your lids flutter, eyes struggling to lock onto his as violet pierces into you, doing nothing to hide the deep-rooted hunger that’s tearing him apart. He moves lazily, with the leisure one can move with when they’re in no rush, yet you can sense that undercurrent, the riptide within him that you’ve been caught in, at last dawning on you. The only other tell aside from his actions and confessions, is the strain in his jaw, wound tight as he gazes down at you, eyes so dark they’re closer to being entirely black as shadow and darkness writhes around you in a great, slithering mass, tangling with you on the bed.

“I think you’re more than ready now,” he whispers, the words dragging like gravel across bare, sensitive skin. “Are you ready?”

Tears spill down your cheeks, so turned around you feel entirely out of control. All you can remember is the sizzling burn of pleasure, the electrifying tingle of heat as it sears through your thighs, making your body feel weightless, like you’re above the clouds and bathing in starlight…starlight that’s hot and wet, that trickles down the naked planes of your body…that slips and slides where your fingers drag through it…that tastes like power and possession…laced through with iridescent violet…

A rough laugh drags from the High Lord’s throat, sensing your pleasure-induced daze, facing not even an ounce of resistance as he gently flips you over on the bed, the side of your face pressing into the soft fullness of one of the pillows, saliva pooling inside your cheek, drooling out onto the cotton as he pushes your thighs apart.

He curses lowly, eyeing the mess between your thighs, wanting more than anything to pull you to the edge of his bed, or flip you around again so you’re spread out on top of him, suspended in the air for him to play with and touch. So he can kiss, lick, bite wherever on your body he likes, so he can press his face between your legs, so he can take his time learning the pace you most like his tongue circling your clit, the pressure to apply that will most swiftly lead you to orgasm, the spots inside of you he should rub against if he wants you to soak him.

But he doesn’t. He’s waited too long.

Besides, after tonight, he can do whatever he pleases; you’ll be his. If he wants to dangle you from the ceiling while exploring your skin, if he wants to bind you to his bed while he kisses up your thighs, if he wants to seat you in his lap while he strokes his tongue against your own…he can. The thought has him growling lowly, dark power writhing beneath his skin, aching to manifest with talons and large, spanning wings, to allow proper canines to slide from his upper lip and his skin to become dark and leathery; to yield to his baser side.

You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, confused but aroused, and his cock twitches between his legs in response. Trailing a hand up the path of your spine, darkness gathers your wrists in a light coil, bringing them to cross at your back, and he swallows thickly at the imagery. Unable to entirely help himself, having only ever witnessed these events within fantasy, the darkness wraps itself also beneath your shins, raising them from the bed until your calves are pressing to the backs of your thighs, legs bent at the knee.

Breathing deeply, he pulls himself free, noting the slight tremors that run through your body, shuddering lightly from the aftershocks of pleasure, trembling beneath the beast who’s got you at his mercy. So out of it you can hardly understand what’s happening, reduced to a panting, drooling mess. A groan of pleasure rasps from his chest, guiding his tip to your entrance, and slowly…slowly easing in.

Your breaths stutter, small noises whimpering from your lips as your lids flutter with confusion, and he applies a light pressure to the base of your spine, having you curve lightly beneath him as he goes in…and in…and in. His breath fans against the nape of your neck, lips skimming the shell of your ear, and tears spill from your eyes, unable to help as you cry, unable to understand why after having had your mind so thoroughly toyed with.

Rhysand shifts, his forearm banding beneath your stomach to raise you up onto shaky knees, legs still bound while your face presses into the pillow, allowing him to press the entirety of himself inside, his hips meeting the backs of your thighs, at last finding home for that last inch he couldn’t fit into you when you were on your front. You whimper at the stretch, the fullness, the strange pleasure from having no space left inside of you. His lips press to the bare skin of the top of your shoulder, skimming the thin golden chain that remains loosely around your throat.

“So good,” he whispers beside you ear, voice shuddering as he presses his face to the crook of your shoulder, inhaling the thickness of your scent—he could come from that alone, from how you’re squeezing him, the pliancy of your body. “I knew you’d fit me perfectly, and feel how right I was.”

He shifts his weight, and your toes curl lightly, squirming beneath the pleasure, and Rhys can sense it will be a struggle to move, to gather the energy to bring a greater pleasure to both of you. It feels so good as it is, he almost doesn’t want to move, to simply bask in the wet heat of your cunt, the lost familiarity of your scent, the way your body slots so perfectly beneath his own.

You’re struggling internally, grappling for consciousness but overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s forcing into you. You can feel everything that’s happening, feel every thick inch of him that he’s pushed into you, yet can hardly even lift a finger to stop it, tears growing larger as they quietly wet the cotton of the pillow.

“Gods, you were fucking made for me,” he breathes roughly, sounding almost pained as he hoarsely whispers the confession of thought, and it has enough disgust gathering in the pit of your stomach to push you to the forefront of your mind, resurfacing and gasping for breath as you tense, awareness coursing through your blood, suddenly so acutely aware of every place you’re pressed together, every intimate touch of bare skin, and you try to recoil, to squirm away from him.

“Rhys get off me,” you hiss lowly, crying harder as you try to free yourself, but his shadows hold tight, keeping your wrapped up beneath him, physically unable to push him away or to claw at him as you would like to. Your cheek presses into the pillow, neck straining from the uncomfortable angle, the weight being pushed onto your shoulders from the position, and your gaze meets with dominating, depthless violet. You try to thrash, try to writhe away, but you can manage little more than a shift of your hips with the way he’s holding you.

“Aware again?” He murmurs softly, holding you a little tighter, pulling his hips back by a few inches, just to let you really feel as he presses back inside, cock touching against a sensitive spot that has a quiet sob escaping from your throat. “You were enjoying it so much,” he whispers cruelly, like a malevolent spirit urging you toward evil, silently goading and encouraging you away from the good, and instead forward into the bad. “Relax,” he muses besides your ear, your spine unwillingly arching as a shiver ghosts up your back.

Words of hate, of fury and disgust sit ready on your tongue, but he pulls his hips back again, and the breath you take is one you would breathe down before being dragged under a river’s icy surface. One you would take, knowing it might be your last.

He pulls out to his tip, then roughly pushes back in, pushing you into the pillow, and all sense is knocked from your head.

All sense from his, too.

A low growl rumbles through his chest, constraints dissolving to dust and ash as discipline crumbles like sand, disintegrating into nothing as both his hands roughly grip your hips, pulling back to slam into you. Deep, rough, thorough strokes that have his cock hitting spots inside of you, drool slipping over your lips as he fucks the protests out of your mind—fucks the moans from your mouth.

Your vision changes, unable to understand anything you’re seeing through the pure haze of pleasure, unable to take anymore after the two he’d forced through you without having to so much as trace the pad of his finger over your clit. And now he’s pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs, filling you up all the while you’re bound and tied, shackled and caged beneath him. For him to use as he pleases.

Tingling heat coils in the pit of your belly, and you’re not sure whether you would prefer the gathering orgasm to be of your own making or his. Whether you would rather it be your body naturally responding to his cruel, dominating pleasure, or for his daemati hands to have slipped into your mind again, fingers easing the puppet-strings to move in the correct formation to have the high rising so swiftly. You hardly have the capacity to consider the thought before it’s banished from your mind, darkness widening the stance of your knees on the mattress so they can twine between your legs, pushing and rubbing at your clit, slick and precum having mixed together, dripping down, slowly making you gleam with arousal that the darkness now uses to catapult you into the orgasm. Shoving you mercilessly into the boiling tempest of pleasure, holding your head below the raging waters so as to drown you in euphoria, to having it fill your lungs and burn at your eyes as it passes through your body.

Rhysand feels you trembling, crying out as you flutter and squeeze him, finding his own high with yours, canines flashing in a barely restrained snarl, teeth biting down into the appetising slope of your shoulder. He feels it as he spills inside of you, hot spurts of cum releasing from him directly into your cunt, and he continues bucking his hips to keep it all pressed deep inside, sloppily grinding against you until your body has ceased its shudders and you’re panting quietly, tears still dripping down your cheeks, nails having bitten deep into your palms but he doubts you’re at all aware of the pain in the moment.

The High Lord curses lowly, breathless as he pulls out of you, seeing how he’s coated in your arousal, wrapped in the evidence of your orgasm, a fresh wave of pleasure having soaked him in your slick, slightly creamy from his cum mixing in. He groans lowly, canine finding place in the corner of his lip as he bites lightly, stroking himself experimentally, then gritting his teeth from sensitivity.

Rhysand glances down at you, ass still kept in the air, trembling; unable to move yet from his shadows, and at once the hunger is renewed, grip tightening on himself as he hardens again. Arousal gathers within him, and he moves almost without thinking, guiding himself back to your entrance, despite how you cry as you feel him begin to push back in, forgetting you will be about to endure a fourth orgasm in less than quarter of an hour, while he is only starting on his second.

You cry out as he firmly presses back in, once again shoving the air from your lungs, and you flinch as the heel of his palm presses hard against the nape of your neck, thumb to one side while his fingers settle on the other, chaining you to the bed by your throat, and allowing him to… You swallow thickly, but struggle with his weight leaning on you.

“Rhys…” you rasp, panic setting in, realising what differences this will make; knowing you can’t take it. “Rhys… Rhys…!” You struggle frantically, arms tugging at the restraints as you try everything you can think of: thrashing against the bonds of your wrists, trying to rock your body side to side to turn over, using all your trembling strength to try and pull your legs free… “Rhys, please…Rhys listen—listen to me,” you cry, fingers moving as if trying to scratch him.

He pays you no mind, grip hardening on the nape of your neck as he pushes in, finding his pace again, following his own instincts this time, the feeling of your orgasm on his cock, how you’d fluttered around him…he’s undone.

Your breath turns more ragged, heart pounding as he increases the pace, feeling inside as it becomes rougher, more feral, more unrestrained, the damper of his power clean off as darkness sprawls across the bed. The rhythm becomes punishing, brutal bucks of his hips, and you nearly scream as he takes advantage of the position, putting his weight behind each thrust, pinning you down by your neck, fucking you into his bed with a conviction that’s obsessive.

Nails dig into your palms, muscles going taut as darkness presses to your clit, rubbing in mean, tight circles, far too harsh for how sensitive you are, thighs shaking with the cruel stimulation. You’re utterly helpless to the way your spine curves, how your toes curl, how you tighten around him with how good it feels—being so roughly treated, pleasure being so mercilessly infused into your body.

And this time, you know he’s tampering with your mind.

You scream as you come again, cock driving into you over and over until your voice gives out, his hips bucking into you in a way that has you forgetting the circumstances, silently begging for it not to end, to not let the pleasure slip away.

A dark grin curves his hellish mouth, daemati fingers effortlessly plucking on the puppet-strings, dragging the high out just as you’d silently prayed for.

But a mind can only take so much tampering. The High Lord knows this, had warned you about it himself before he’d pulled the first two from you. Yet in his haze, caught in his hunger, all he hears are your pleas, and his own mind is helpless to give more and more and more.

It’s only after he’s flipped you over, fucked you full, and sealed his mouth against your own that he realises you’ve passed out, mind exhausted from his relentless ministrations. He doesn’t want to stop, but he knows he can’t continue.

Gazing down at your body, head tipped to the side, your eyes already slightly puffy from crying, he feels a slight ache within his chest. He’s old enough to recognise regret when it appears, the cloying heaviness of guilt that’s so difficult to shake.

He brushes hair from your cheek, wet with saliva, and his thumb traces the curve beneath your lower lip, regaining his breath as he quietly looks over you. You’ll need to rest, to recuperate after the night. As much as he wants to keep you in his own bed, it will only make more damage, and he’s caused enough for the time being. Anymore and he might struggle to fix it.

As it is, he allows himself a few more minutes, leaning over your pliant body, brow pressing to your own as he cups your jaw. He supposes it’s a prayer of his own, though he can’t guess what to.

He’s not sure he wants to pray to something that would listen to him.

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