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kapriisunz · 9 months

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CLOWN THRONE & BALLOONS | LA!Buggy x fem!reader

Summary; You like kneeling for Buggy while he’s on his silly chair.

Warnings; Descriptions of Buggy being hot on said chair, fucking Buggy on said chair; Oral (m receiving), p in’ v, fem terms, you ride until you die.

LIVE ACTION ONE PIECE SPOILERS

A/N; FanFic writers please hurry on this I need this man carnally. Gotta smash the clown fear out of me. Also I’m not a fanfic writer but we need someone to jumpstart it, so if this isn’t up to your standard: my bad, I’ve never written and published before especially NSFW.

p.s: If it gets out that the actor doesn’t like his portrayal to be used in this type of way, I’ll be deleting this out of respect. Until then, Enjoy.

Masc!reader here! <- not made yet.

Under a harsh spotlight that only lights a tiny portion of the carnival tent, you’re kneeling in front of your captain. Right, in between his legs, with your head resting dangerously on his thigh, staring up at him.

Buggy had laughed Cabaji out of the tent when he had reported back from Shells town all before you came in.

He’s ‘relaxed’ on the wooden carnival chair, his hat hanging from on top of the back bar of the seat, with one of his legs propped up on the armrest and foot swinging lazily really helps encourage the imagination.

his brows crease his paint, shoulders are tense as he giggles at his speech.

Recounting the way Cabaji spoke of someone—and not him—had taken the Grand Line chart, you almost feel sorry for Cabaji.

The way Buggy speaks of this sounds as if he finds this amusing, you’re sure a part of him does but you can tell that he’s all but relaxed.

Buggy’s pride is flashy tales of himself, finding pure enjoyment from his endeavors so he can showcase them to the world. So, when some nobody ‘pirates’ haphazardly steal a map he planned to steal himself? He laughs.

But it seems all too forced.

"Captain?.." You ask.

He still wears his white and red striped bandanna however it does work as intended since you can still see fray blue hairs that linger around his face.

You wonder, if you asked, if could he put his blue hair into a ponytail. But you shake that thought away.

Buggy grumbles in thought, rubbing his forehead with his fingers, minding his clown paint. You frown at the sight of him and gently stroke his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

“What will we do?” His eyes snap down at you, sending a thrilling chill down your spine. He giggled, almost too giddy for this situation.

He hums while cocking his head down at you and grinning mockingly. He sits upright, putting his leg down with a loud thud, trapping you in between him, and making your breath hitch.

“The map is mine.” He states tucking a fray hair behind your ear causing you to try and lean into his hand.

However, he snaps his gloved hand to your chin, pulling your face and bringing you closer to him. The wood floor creaks and your knees are a little chafed from kneeling for too long, but you pay no mind- too focused on Buggy and how his face is ever so close to yours. Your noses almost touching.

“And I’m gonna get it back.” He brushes his thumb over your lip, smudging your clown makeup to the side, making you nod up and down at his own words. “No matter who I have to kill.” He lets you go, pulling back against the chair again, you let out a breathy sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

You can tell that he’s stressed, that he’s angry since he spent months planning only for it to be for nothing.

A light bulb lights above your head.

Looking around the tent, you and your captain are the only people present as the other ‘freaks’ of your crew must be perfecting their ‘performance’ or taking care of the ‘audience’.

You muster the guts to carry on rubbing his thighs while gradually moving your hands upward along him.

You again place your head on his thigh while feigning innocence. You feel up the striped tunic and then tug at the hem of his pants. He swiftly grips your wrist and causes your breath to catch.

“What are you doing?” He eyes you.

“I..want to make you happy,” You continue, trying your best to not show how worried you are, worried that you step a bit too close to danger with your intentions.

He bends forward and looks at you in the eye. His stare makes you even more nervous, aren’t able to determine if he is angered by what you are doing from the stoic way he stares.

You’re about to apologize but to your surprise, he presses a kiss to your wrist almost too affectionate.

He lets go of your hand and grabs the back of your head, pulling you into one kiss. You let out a moan, heat rising to your face both in shock and rosemary-colored lust. He pauses to look at your face, his hand entangled into your hair with a vice grip.

“You want to take care of your captain?”

He asks tightening the grip on your hair and making you bite back another moan, but you nod on your own this time.

He leans back casually, chuckling at the sight of you. His red paint had smeared over your mouth, you must look stupid, pathetic even: You knelt in front of him hair ruffled and face paint mucky but he found humor in your messy appearance.

“Show me,” Buggy purrs with a wave of his hand for you to continue, a lustful glint in his eye, you nod.

You’re now set on a mission, and that mission is to give your jolly captain the most mind-numbing head. And maybe more if you’re lucky

With his consent, you continue with newfound courage, you unlace his tan trousers as he spreads his legs for you, giving you more room.

Your heart pounds against your chest.

You want to please your captain.

You glide your hand down and graze his crotch, a prominent bulge in his pants all while he watches, hissing at your touch.

Finally, you pull his pants and underwear down to his mid-thigh, his cock throbs against his abdomen.

Buggy, who still has a hand in your hair, tugs you closer, nervously you take his heavy cock into your hand and give an experimental stroke.

With a flat tongue, you follow a long vein, giving a lengthy lick from the underside of his shaft to the pinkish tip, his chest is heavy as he breathes, trying not to roll his head back and keep his eyes on you.

He wants to watch you do this.

“Such a good girl..”

Needing more praise from your flashy clown captain you continue.

Your mouth is on the mushroom tip as you suck down, taking him halfway to not trigger a gag reflex.

You clench your thighs together at the groan he makes desperate for any friction, you bob your head on his cock while giving rough strokes on the part you can’t fully take.

However, Buggy forcibly pulls your head down on him making you grab his thighs and gag slightly, he waits only a moment for you to recover, your nose buried into his bunched tunic.

You give him a light tap and he has you moving your head again along his cock, you slowly learn to breathe out your nose and hollow your cheeks as you take him.

You’ll most likely have a sore throat after this.

Your eyes tear up a bit as you take him, his dick hits the back of your throat rhythmically and ruthlessly. Letting you moan around him, and making him buck his hips at the sensation.

“Fuck . . . you’re doing so well,”

Fuck, you want him to talk more, you’re positive that your nails have dug into him as you feel a shock of arousal pulse through your cunt.

You need relief, and Buggy notices that.

He pulls your head off him, a long string of saliva from your mouth to his dick. He pulls you up by the collar of your shirt to make you hover in his lap. Your knees are now on either side of him.

He wastes no time though, a hand under your skirt and a long drag of his fingers from your cunt to your clit over your panties.

You instinctively cry out, but Buggy is quickly on you, drowning out your moan. The kiss is sloppy, but you and he don’t mind.

“You’ll need to be quiet, you don’t want someone from the crew to get curious about the beautiful noise coming from here.” All you can do is nod, and try to not make much noise by biting your lip.

He’s experienced but rough with the circles he rubs on your clothed clit. He pulls your panties to the side but frustratingly rips them and throws them to the side-, and checks how slick you are with another long stripe.

You’re unsurprisingly ready without much touching from his end which he smirks at, he places his gloved hands-that have damp fingertips- on the divot of your hips.

You place your own hands on his shoulders the fur of his coat nestled between your fingers as you grip it.

You slowly lower yourself onto his cock, the pink leaky tip at the entrance of your cunt, you can feel it already throbbing.

You are about to fully go down but Buggy beats you to it, a bit impatient he bucks his hips up into you. Your legs around his thighs tense and shake at the sudden intrusion, keeping his words in mind you bite your lip, and you bite hard.

He groans at how tight and warm you are.

He begins to bounce you up and down, and once you follow the rhythm you’re both panting and groaning, hard to stop yourself from doing so when take the opportunity to explore your body.

His gloved hands tail all over your figure, teasing your chest through your shirt.

You take the time as well, to gaze at him, every part of him and then, you decide that; you want to bite his neck.

And you do.

He’s caught by surprise when you pull his ascot to bite and suck on his neck, so much so that he gives you a whiny moan when you do so.

At the noise, you feel your walls clench around him, making him hiss and buck his hips up into your sopping pussy.

Determined to have his dick mold your cunt in his shape you start to move faster and deeper, still leaving purple and red marks along his neck -and clown paint, at least you aren’t the only one who looks stupid now.

You can feel the build-up in the pit of your stomach, a tight coil forms ready to snap at one extreme movement.

Buggy’s also close having the same overwhelming feeling.

He enjoys having you rubbed up against him, your teeth biting at his neck trying so hard to keep your mewls down but they’re right in his ear.

Throughout this, he wasn’t ever suspecting to have you at his feet licking stripes on his dick nor have your slick tight pussy bouncing on him and dirtying his clothes, and to be fair he’s quite enjoying himself.

He’s a goner once he hears the next moan.

“Buggy. . .”

Fuck, your whine did something.

However he doesn’t want to cum before you do, so he holds back for just a bit so he can tail his hand in between the both of you to map tight circles on your clit.

Now your body trembles as the coil in your stomach snaps in half, and your walls clench around him

He finally lets himself roll his head back, muttering intangible swears, riding his hips up into you, his whole body tenses.

His cum jerks into your spasming pussy, you whine at the feeling too dazed to worry about any repercussions of this.

He rocks your hips along him, riding out the final moments of your orgasm before slumping back on the chair.

Both of you are breathing heavily, but you find that your ‘mission’ was a outstanding success as you see a genuinely but hazy grin from your now completely relaxed captain.

Maybe those nobodies stealing the map weren’t so bad.

#opla buggy #op buggy #buggy smut #buggy x reader #fem reader #one piece #one piece smut #one piece x reader #buggy nation #Here ya go you filly animals ((i love you))#I am embarrassed to post this #opla #opla smut

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kisakis-boyfriend · 8 months

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oh could you, maybe. possibly. expand on the ghost reader with tighnari and gorou?

Pairings: Tighnari, Gorou x reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, ghost!reader, sub/bottom characters, teasing, public play, handjob, breeding, heat cycles

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshots

Author's Note: I hope this is to your liking, anon! I couldn't think of another way to expand on this idea except some scenarios like this 😅

Check out the original headcannons if you haven't yet!

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

Tighnari's gloved hands dig into the large tree trunk as he leans against it, panting and bucking his hips into a touch that seems human-like though its source remains invisible. He swallows dryly, a chill crawling up his spine while the fur on his tail and ears sticks up, alerting him to some strange presence in the area

It was bad enough that it was the beginning of his heat cycle, but now he had to deal with these phantom touches again! Always drifting down to his most sensitive places and working him up until he came at least once

Transparent fingers curled around Tighnari's cock as you jerked him off roughly with schlick schlick noises filling the air. The only thing that could possibly drown out the lewd sounds were the fox boy's moans, grunts, and groans while you pulled his first orgasm out of him. Cum painted the bark on the tree as Tighnari's hips jerked, chasing the tightness of your hand wrapped around his dick

He knew this wasn't over though. It never was. After he took a few minutes to catch his breath, he knew that he would be pushed or pulled into another position and, if you were needy enough, something big would be inserted into his ass or mouth, depending on your mood

Today was definitely a day where you were needy enough. As you pushed Tighnari onto the ground, you ripped his pants off and tossed the cloth aside. His sweet ass was now on full display for you and anyone else who happened to pass by this part of the jungle. And, as luck would have it, a group of several forest rangers were about to head over to this exact area to check on the air pressure and nearby flora for any drastic changes

The poor man could only groan as you inserted a finger into his ass, using the cum and slick from his cock as lube to push into him a bit easier. His hole was gradually stretched open while you fingered him, keeping his hips high in the air and his head firmly pressed against the grass

Tighnari tensed up when the tip of your cock prodded at his entrance, slowly pushing past his ring of muscles and pulling slutty moans from the lewd fox as every inhibition left his brain. Tighnari in heat was a complete whore. Once you had him in a position to take dick, he'd quickly accept his situation and let his hormones run rampant. Moaning without a care in the world and thrusting his hips like an obedient slut

By the time the group of forest rangers arrived and peeked around the tree, Tighnari was too far gone to notice or care. Their confused, wide-eyed stares focused on the man's hole that was seemingly gaping around nothing, stretching rhythmically as if something was being inserted over and over. His arms were limp on the ground, his tongue had lolled out of his mouth and created a puddle of drool on the ground, and obscene noises fell from his lips nonstop while he clenched around nothing

His hips were pushing back against something that none of them could perceive as he craved the thick object penetrating his ass. Chanting “Moremoremoremore” and “Harder! Fill me, breed my little holes– Ooooohhh yeeeaahh—!! ” while you pounded him so brutally that he wouldn't be able to sit down for a few days

“A-aahh!! H-hey...it's you ag-gain...” The startled puppy said, his eyes adjusting to the darkness inside of his tent. The sensation of gentle hands caressing his chest made him feel a bit nervous, seeing as they usually didn't stop at gliding along Gorou's skin...

Invisible fingers played with Gorou's sensitive nipples until he became a whining, squirming mess on top of his blankets, rolling his hips without even realizing it

Sure enough, your touch trailed down his soft tummy, brushing your fingers through his little happy trail, until they dipped underneath the hem of his pants. Curling your digits around the cloth, you slowly remove it from Gorou's body and throw it down next to his bed somewhere. The puppy now laid bare naked, to anyone else it would appear as though he was alone, but both you and Gorou knew that that wasn't true

Wanting to take things a little slower than usual tonight, you refrained from touching the puppy boy's dick yet, opting to tease him by holding onto his hips and waist and maybe pressing against his hole just enough to rile him up. Gorou's heat had already affected him throughout the whole day and he had tried hard to suppress it, but after so many hours spent holding back...he was more than ready to let go and give in to the pleasant affection

Your erection rested heavily on top of Gorou's stomach, rubbing against his own hardening member with every shallow thrust of your hips as you became more excited. Eagerly licking your lips as your fingers pried the puppy's mouth open and forced their way inside, poking around while he whined in embarrassment

Fingerfucking his mouth was something you loved to do. He just looked so cute every time... What with his lips stretched around your invisible digits, his tongue licking at them as he coated them in his spit, the way his pretty eyes closed halfway from lust. The way Gorou didn't even try to push you off or squirm away no matter how rough you were with him. He could be gagging and choking on your fingers loudly, while you fucked his tight throat until his eyes rolled back, and your cute puppy would still arch into your touch and accept your ministrations with little complaint

Tonight though, you wanted to be a bit more gentle. So you simply thrust your fingers into his wet cavern long enough to lube them up, pulling out of Gorou's mouth and prepping his ass so that you wouldn't hurt him when you inevitably slid your dick inside

Gorou's whines turned into adorable whimpers as your cock fucked him open, slowly at first, since you were pretty big. Though he quickly begged for more, succumbing to his heat in the safety of the tent. And you weren't about to deny his simple request, so you pushed in another inch, then another, and another, until you just rammed the rest in and bottomed out

Cum from Gorou's dick pooled on his pale chest as another orgasm tore through his body, shrill moans echoing within the tent all the while. The little puppy's hips never stopped bucking as he begged to be filled more, begged for whatever phantom that was currently balls deep within him to breed him full of their kids. Gorou in heat only had one thought filling that pretty little head; breed me! Breed me! Cum in me! Fill me! I'll do anything for you, just pump your seed into my womb and don't let any spill out~ 🧡

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #tighnari #tighnari smut #tighnari x reader #sub tighnari #gorou #gorou smut #gorou x reader #sub gorou #halloween specials 🎃#requested #male reader #dom reader #top reader #oneshot

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valkyrielevitt · 9 months

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Hogwarts Fashion During Hogwarts Legacy

A cheat-sheet for making your writing/art historically accurate, and some inspiration for your MC - women's addition.

Victorian fashion was complicated, both in terms of the construction and the rules that dictated when certain garments could be worn. Age played an important role in what a person was permitted to wear, so lets break it down that way:

Younger Students (Roughly years 1-4)

Generally speaking, girls dressed in similar styles to their mothers, but with altered hemline lengths. Up until roughly 13-14 years old (exact ages were decided by the girl's family) her hemline would fall around the knee. At 14 it would be lowered to the middle of the shins.

At this age girls would wear dresses, and so you could suggest that Hogwarts uniforms for girls at this age would not consist of the shirt and skirt combo that MC and various NPCs wear.

Most schools in the 1890s did not have set uniforms, but instead girls were expected to wear an apron to protect their clothes from ink and chalk dust.

At this age it was still considered socially acceptable for girls to wear their hair down, or in more simple hairstyles like braids. Popular hair accessories included ribbons and straw hats.

Time for some examples:

This is an example of a day dress (casual clothes) from 1893. Smocking (the embroidery technique used at the collar, waist and cuffs) was popular in young girls clothes.

Another example of children in day dress. The girl on the far left is probably about 13-14, the older girl on the right is closer to 15.

An example of the aprons worn by younger students.

Details of the dresses worn underneath (technically from 1897 but the styles are fairly similar)

Details of the aprons worn

Older Students (Roughly years 5-7)

Around the time that the MC joins at Hogwarts, she would, depending on her personal preferences, have kept her skirt at her mid shin or dropped the hem to her ankles. Around the age of 17, girls would be expected to fully let down their hems to the floor, signifying their shift to adulthood.

At this point dresses would become less popular during the day, and were replaced by blouses (complete with very large sleeves) and a skirt. Men's tailoring and sports clothes shaped women's fashion at the time, and greatly influenced what girls wore at this age.

Girls would also typically stop wearing their hair down during the day, resorting to simple up-dos instead.

The time at which each girl made these changes depended on her and her family. While some girls had no choice but to listen to their parents, often they were able to bargain for an extra few months if they so wished.

An example of two girls around the age of 15 in very typical day outfits.

A selection of school girls - those sitting are no older than 14, those standing are no older than 16.

At the age of 15-16 girls would begin to attend more family functions and required new styles of clothes. These paintings show the same tea gown. These were made to be worn at home, never in public, when the family was hosted guests or a less formal dinner. They could be worn at all times of the day.

Day clothes for students who dressed as adults (17+):

A British Upper VI class (age 17-18) and some teachers in 1894. All girls now wear dresses with their hems on the ground, and hair tied up.

Middle class girls fashion in the 1890s

A Woman's sweater from 1895

Walking outfit from 1894 - essentially a more substantial outfit for spending time outdoors.

A more expensive version of a day outfit.

Tea gowns:

Generally identified by their loose fit, high neckline, and a train that falls from the shoulders. Additionally they may also be made with a large coat over the top. The shape was inspired by medieval fashion and so they're a good source of inspiration for the wizarding world imo.

Evening gowns:

Worn for the most formal evening events, and generally expose more skin than day clothes. Staple accessories included fans, opera gloves, and (if you're that way inclined) tiaras were coming into popularity at this time.

Rule of thumb for all fashion at this time, the sleeves get largest in the middle of the decade, and shrink back down again towards the end.

1894

1893

1898

1893-1895

1894

1898

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 9 months

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Practice On Me — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Young Azriel (twenty years old) in Windhaven. A deliciously cliche trope that’s always fun to write. You and Az are close friends, and that’s why he trusts you with a certain insecurity. And also why you come up with an interesting solution. Doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a good idea, though…

Word count: 4.5k.

Warnings: None.

These nights are cold and unforgiving.

The snow began hammering down in silent droves a couple of hours before. A thick layer of it now blankets the ground and paints the Windhaven camp a brutal white that makes you glance at the boots on your feet. Basic, brown boots that will be soaked and frozen by the time you reach your shoddy hovel of a house. You should have left at the sight of the first snowflake that kissed the ground.

But Rhysand’s mother’s cottage is warm and cosy in a way that yours isn’t. It lulls you to sit back rather than sit up, the fire crackling away in the corner and the smell of spilled ale tinging the air, Cassian’s clumsiness, of course. Your friends eyeball each other around the table, and this game of cards has been going on for too long, and you think your eyes might be growing heavy. If you don’t muster the energy to walk home now, you’ll regret it.

“I’m out.” You announce wisely, eyeing the pitiful deal of cards in your hands. You pile them atop of the table, stretching your arms above your head. The game continues around you.

Playing cards with Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel is always a little amusing — seeing them transform from boisterous, drunken fools to serious, suspicious competitors. They study each other across the top of their cards as if there are any real takings to be had by the winner — but Rhysand’s mother would have your heads if you actually gambled under her roof, so a pile of plastic buttons it is.

Certainly not an incentive to stay any longer.

You stand from your chair, earning curious looks from your three friends. To them, the night is young, at least while Rhys’s mother isn’t here to berate you about the late hour — two, three o’clock, perhaps — but to you, with an unpleasant journey across the camp still to be completed, the night is very much old and very much over.

“I’m heading home before the weather gets any worse.” You announce, plucking your jacket from the back of your chair. “Enjoy the rest of your game, ladies.”

Cassian snorts and Rhys studies his cards once more, ever the serious player, but it’s Azriel — Azriel, who places his dealt hand face-down on the table and also stands from his seat.

“I’ll walk with you.” He announces. Your other two friends don’t so much as bat an eyelash at the offer, because it’s a regular one, one you’ve heard a thousand times and one you know not to politely protest.

Azriel is your closest friend in this gods-forsaken place. And he will genuinely plunge a dagger into his heart before allowing you to brave your walk home alone.

So, you wait by the door as he shucks his jacket on, sliding warm gloves over his scarred hands. And then you’re opening the door, and a savage flurry of snow is pelting your face like it’s been waiting to attack.

“Fucking hell, close the door.” Cass grouses. “It’s glacial out there.”

As if, as Illyrians, the four of you aren’t used to the brutal temperatures. You roll your eyes at his whining and shove your hands into your pockets, before planting a boot into the thick layer of snow already on the ground. You grimace at how little protection your shoes afford you. Twenty years you’ve lived here. You should know better, be more prepared. Hopefully you can make it home before your feet turn to blocks of ice.

“Goodnight, assholes.” You call over your shoulder, and your friends momentarily break from their poker faces to return the sentiment. “Love you!”, Cassian calls, and “Keep warm!”, Rhysand reminds you, and then Azriel is following you out of the door.

“Cass is definitely losing that game.” The Shadowsinger immediately sidles close to you, his side pressed against yours. It doesn’t do much against the glowering cold, but it’s a comfort.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to hear it across the camp the moment he realises.” You breathe a laugh, curling in on yourself. Not only is the temperature simply unpleasant, but it also causes you pain — any extreme weather seems to make the ruined remains of your clipped wings twinge. You search for a subject to distract yourself from the sensation. “How come you didn’t invite Kaeda tonight?”

The name of Azriel’s recent interest has him angling himself towards you, snowflakes catching in his hair. He raises a dark eyebrow. “We’ve not moved past the casual stage yet. Certainly not enough to subject her to Cassian’s company.”

“Shame. It’d be nice to have another female around.” Rhysand’s cousin, Mor, sometimes comes to visit, and you have a few good female friends around the camp, but in your closest circle, you’re a little outnumbered.

Something that didn’t seem to matter so much when you were all younglings making mischief. But you’re adults now. Things are different. You are different.

Azriel presses his arm into yours. “If things progress, I’ll bring her to meet the three of you.”

That’d be nice, you think. To have another friend, and to see Azriel happy. See him appreciated. He deserves to be appreciated.

“And are they?” You press back. “Progressing?”

It’s then that there’s the slightest shift in his demeanour. Anyone else might not catch it — he’s the Shadowsinger, after all, and damn well guarded and cryptic and good at hiding what he’s thinking, feeling. But you’ve known him since you were mere, little runts, and you know every little mannerism.

Even in the freezing cold, Azriel blushes. Turns coy.

“What?” You urge, trying and failing to read him.

He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I want to kiss her.”

“Then why don’t you?

“I want to do it right. I don’t…I don’t want to fuck it up.”

The concern seems like a baseless one. You’re sure Azriel has kissed people before, although he’s always been considerably more reserved than Cassian and Rhys when it comes to females, and you’re not certain how far he’s ever gone. Of all the things you talk about, this isn’t usually one of them. You’re not sure why.

But you’ll help, if possible. You mull over his words as the two of you crunch through thick snow, more and more of it seeping into your useless shoes. The soles of them are worn, and you need a new pair, but you can ill afford it right now. Eventually, the cold starts to get painful, and you stop for a moment, leaning on Az’s arm as you swear quietly.

“There’s no way you’re making it home in those.” He’s totally right, of course. “I told you to get new ones.”

“And I told you, I can’t afford them.” Your toes are numb, now.

“I could fly you straight to your door—”

“Az, you know you can’t.” You sigh; the two of you have had this conversation countless times, because Az takes your safety very seriously indeed. “My father won’t like it.”

It’s not like your father isn’t aware that you’ve been friends with Az and the others since you were youngsters. But as you’ve gotten older, he’s only gotten more paranoid. The last person in the godsdamn universe he would want to think about you having relations with is any of your three closest friends. And if he so much as catches a whiff of them at your door, one of you is sure to pay for it.

Azriel knows you’re right, even if he doesn’t like it. He curses under his breath, and then his arms are snaking around you. “Alright. Hold on to me.”

“What are you…” You cling to him as much as your frozen fingers will allow. He’s always a little warmer than you are, and the feeling is pleasant. As pleasant as his scent is. So naturally, you press closer to him.

“We’ll go to the mead hall.” Azriel explains. “No one will be there now, but the hearths will still be warm. We can spend the night there, and I’ll fly you home in the morning when your father has left for the forge.”

The mead hall is where the Illyrian families across the camp congregate almost nightly to eat their dinner and learn of camp news. It mostly becomes an unpleasant atmosphere, with the males drinking too much and at least one fight certain to break out. You try to attend as little as possible, opting to eat your meals elsewhere, usually in the company of your friends, but your father sometimes insists that you accompany him and drag his drunken ass back home afterwards.

At this time of night, though, the brutes will have been long kicked out and sent home. The cooks will have followed soon after, and the only remaining presence in the long hall is the heat that filled the place. The mere thought of it is a mouthwatering one.

Unsurprisingly, it’s locked, and unsurprisingly, Azriel and his shadows get the door open as if it isn’t. He places you down in the entrance, and you’re immediately heading through to the mammoth dining hall, the warmth breathing out at you and thawing your frozen skin.

Az’s boots thud on the wooden floor after you, leaving little patches of melting snow in his wake. “I’ll get another fire going.”

You hop up onto one of the long wooden tables, first kicking off your sodden shoes and then stuffing your socks into them. You wiggle your toes, trying to generate some warmth into your pinkened feet.

You watch Azriel from across the room. The strands of his dark hair are damp and falling into his eyes, his skin cold-bitten. Sometimes, in moments like these, it stuns you how beautiful your closest friend is. You suppose it’s easy to forget, sometimes, when you’ve known somebody for so long; easy to become desensitised to their beauty. But looking at him like this, you’re sure he must have a whole line of suitors — both female and male — vying for his attention. Even if it’s something he never talks about.

To you, he’s just Az. And you can’t help snorting quietly as he so predictably scoops your shoes and socks up and places them by the fire he has lit.

A mother hen, truly.

“You should start to warm up any second.” He says, traipsing back over to where you’re sat. He slots himself between your legs, and his warmed hands cup your face. “I’m going to buy you a new pair of boots.”

“No you’re not.” You immediately quip, narrowing your eyes up at him. “I’ll buy them when my father chooses to pay me.”

You know it ticks him off — he, like the other adult males, gets a semi-decent wage for his commitment to the Illyrian army, the hours of training he puts in. You, on the other hand, might spend hours — days — helping out in your father’s forge, using the skills you’ve observed from him, and you’ll still only see the flash of a coin on a rare day that he decides he tolerates having a daughter, and that you’re not so bad, after all.

Hence why Azriel can afford a pair of boots, and you can’t. But you’ll not take his money.

So, you change the subject, relaxing into the pleasant sensation of his shadows tickling your skin, warming you. “Why would you fuck it up?”

Azriel’s face turns blank. “What?”

“You said you don’t want to fuck up kissing Kaeda. Why do you think you would?”

He stares back at you for a beat. And then his cheeks darken imperceptibly — nothing to do with the cold.

It surprises you. Az can be coy; shy, even. He’s the quietest of the three males in your circle. A pensive observer, never having much to say but certainly always having much to think about. And you know he has his insecurities, things that bother him, but he’s mostly sure of himself. Knows his power, his strength.

You’re not quite used to him balking from a subject. Becoming flustered by it.

“Has anyone complained about your technique before?” You cock an eyebrow, already knowing that no, they absolutely haven’t. Azriel has very full, kissable lips — something you’ve observed a couple of times before. In a totally platonic way, of course. Totally.

“I didn’t say that,” he lowers his gaze, “I—”

“Just go for it.” You reach up, pinching his flushed cheek between your fingers. “Jump right in and land one on Kaeda. Impress her with your kissing prowess—”

“You,” he tugs your hand away, “are so annoying—”

“The rest will naturally follow when you have your tongue in her mouth. Trust me. And then you’ll be wondering why you were worried in the first place—”

“Except that I’ve never kissed anybody before.”

Immediately, you fall still.

He may as well have shouted the words, from how loudly they seem to echo through the hall.

You stare up at your dear friend, and you blink. Wait for the punchline. Wait for a teasing grin to tug at the corner of his lips — something that very few people other than you get to witness — and for him to tell you that he’s jesting, and of course he’s kissed somebody before, and done a lot more stuff than that, too. All the stuff. Every bit of it. Over and over again—

“Let’s just drop it.” He murmurs, stepping away. You think you might have offended him with your silence, your surprise.

“Wait.” You blink, grasping hold of his arm. “Just…wait.”

He studies you. “Is it that much of a shock?”

Honestly? Yes, yes, it is. Because how did you not know this? You met Azriel when you were both eleven years old. Nine years ago. You faced puberty together and all the awkward things in between. And while you may not sit and discuss the ins and outs of your respective experiences, you simply assumed that his were progressing and evolving just as yours had. Cauldron, Rhys and Cassian stuck their cocks in different males and females every other week. You supposed you’d merely…grouped Azriel in with such things.

But when you think about it — really, truly think about it — Azriel is the only one of the three males who has never introduced another female to the group; no matter how short or fleeting their presence might be. You can’t pluck from your brain a single name he’s ever mentioned besides Kaeda — and that’s a very recent thing.

You’re still waiting a teeny, tiny, little bit for him to say he’s joking. But his cheeks are redder than ever.

“You’ve never kissed anyone.” You repeat, blinking at him.

He purses his lips. “I haven’t.”

“You’ve never pressed your lips to another person’s—”

“I think we’ve established that, Y/N.” He pivots, turning his back on you. “Just forget it.”

“No, wait, fuck, Az, you know I’m shit with words.” You reach for his hand. “Just…how come? Why have you never kissed anybody?”

His hand is tense in yours. You don’t like it. So many times, you’ve held his hand, felt his fingers fold around yours and your palms warm against each other’s. But he holds it limp, now, barely any weight to it. You give it a gentle squeeze.

He pauses. Then squeezes back.

And it’s then that you realise that’s where the problem lies — his hands. Scars.

“Az,” you sigh softly, tugging him closer to you. “Your hands are beautiful. A part of you, your story. Anyone worth knowing — worth kissing — will think the same.”

And gods, you mean the words with every tiny shred of your spirit and soul. There’s no one on the Mother’s green earth that you love more fiercely than the male in front of you. So kind, despite the hatred that’s been shown to him. So gentle, despite the brutality of your environment. He’s wiped your tears and kept you warm and shared his food and given you a place to sleep when your father has made your life particularly difficult. Platonic soulmates exist, and Azriel is yours.

He turns back to you and keeps hold of your hand. And he chews his bottom lip as he says, “I do know that. I know that not everybody is judgemental. But it’s not just the scars.”

You brush your thumb over the back of his palm. “What else is it?”

“I just simply don’t know…how. Fuck, theoretically, of course I know how kissing works. I’ve seen it more than enough. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be any good at it. I could be awful, for all I know.”

You highly, highly doubt that to be the case. “You just…practice. Until you know what you like. Until you know your technique.”

Hazel eyes study you curiously. “So…you have, then. Practiced.”

It’s rather strange, but a sudden, random slither of guilt presses down on your shoulders. Silly, because Azriel would never begrudge you your experiences — and you’ve had plenty of them, good and bad.

But in that moment, you want nothing more than to be able to tell him that you, too, have never kissed anybody. That you’ve never touched anybody or lain with anybody. That you’re just as inexperienced and clueless as he is.

But that would be a bare-faced lie. And you and Azriel do not lie to each other.

So perhaps it’s the guilt that causes you to blurt out, “Practice on me.”

Azriel blinks at you. His hand slackens in yours. “What?”

And fuck, you’ve said it now. You’re not sure whether or not you even meant to, but you think it’d be more awkward to retract the words than stand by them and ride them out. You square your shoulders. Try to seem sure, confident.

“Practice kissing with me.”

The poor male is completely dumbfounded. “You’re…my friend.”

“Yes, Azriel. That’s why I’m offering. Practice on me, refine your technique, and then you can apply that confidence to Kaeda.”

“Practice…on you…”

“I’m trying really hard not to be offended by the disgust that’s on your face right now.”

“Shit, no, that’s not—”

“You know what? Forget I said that. Dumb idea. Terrible idea. Forget I even mentioned it.”

Az stares at you. And you don’t want to balk from the eye contact, but you also totally want to throw yourself in the fire, because it would burn less than your embarrassment right now.

And then he says, “Is it a serious offer?”

You lift one shoulder into a shrug. “Why not?”

Oh, there are a million fucking reasons why not. The most pressing being that yours and Azriel’s friendship is, perhaps, the most stable thing in your life. Certainly the most precious and treasured. Rocking that is a very bad idea, indeed.

And you think, for a moment, that that’s precisely what Az is going to tell you. He has that look on his face that he usually gets when you’re about to do something stupid. The one where he chews the inside of his cheek and his eyes rove your face.

But then the word leaves him, quiet and a little breathless, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I accept your offer.”

He—damn. You didn’t think this far; suppose you didn’t expect him to actually agree. And yet here he is, agreeing.

Suddenly, you feel like you’ve never kissed anybody, either.

But you’re supposed to be guiding him here. So you sit up straight. Lift your chin. Azriel watches, eyeing you a little like you’re a creature he’s never seen before. The bewilderment on his face squeezes your heart a bit.

“Do you want to do it now?” You ask.

He swallows. And his eyes fall down to your lips before flicking back to meet yours. “I suppose there’s no time like the present.”

And there isn’t. The two of you are here alone, no background noise from Cassian or Rhysand to battle with. It’s just you and Azriel. Your eyes. Your mouths.

You realise you’re still holding his hand, and so you use it to pull him closer to you, slot him back between your legs. You’re certain he’s trembling, and you are, too.

“Just take your time.” You tell him. “Let your body lead. Do what feels natural.”

He gives a stiff nod. And pauses. “And you promise to be honest afterwards? About how it was?”

Your eyes soften. “Always, Az.”

He nods again, and then he’s sucking in a slow, steadying breath. You remain still, allowing him to make the first move, to do whatever he wants.

There’s a pause of heavy silence, and then he dips his head. Kisses you once.

It’s a quick, closed-mouth kiss. Sweet, if not a little stiff and awkward. But you know Azriel is testing the waters, deciding whether he truly wants to do this. If he surmises that he absolutely doesn’t, you’ll stop, say no more about it. You keep still and allow him to decide.

And when he pulls back to study you, you give him a reassuring smile. One that silently communicates, I’m fine, we’re fine, this is fine.

It seems to give him the little boost he needs.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Slowly, he slips his hand out of yours, and you allow him to. You watch as he inches even closer. Moves his hands up to rest at either side of your face.

When he’s cupping your cheeks, his eyes meet yours, and he whispers. “Is this okay?”

You squeeze his forearm once. “It’s fine, Az. Do whatever you feel you want to do. I’ll tell you if I don’t like anything.”

He nods, and his gaze drags down to your lips. You’re still, careful, not moving until he’s ready to. And maybe he’ll not feel ready. Maybe he’ll stop this and pull back and decide it’s a terrible idea—

No.

Azriel’s thumb sweeps over your cheek. And then he leans in and presses his mouth to yours a second time.

This time, it’s different — you can tell straight away.

It starts out slow, his lips exploring yours, moulding to the shape of them. The kiss is a caress on your mouth, and it’s a damn good start. You find yourself leaning into it. Kissing back.

For a split second, you feel Az pause. But then his hand is cupping your cheek firmer, the heat of his palm meeting the heat of your face and making you forget how cold you were only minutes ago. Az’s lips part, and so naturally, yours do the same. You kiss him gladly.

And he’s not bad at all. You’ve kissed far more experienced males with far worse technique. Azriel may be nervous and tentative, but there’s something there, lurking beneath the surface. Something that will grow with the right encouragement, the right amount of confidence.

You…you want to give him both.

But it’s important to remember why you’re doing this. For his sake. So he can comfortably kiss the female he’s interested in.

You part from him momentarily, his breath fanning your lips as you ask him, “Are you doing okay?”

“I am.” There’s a rasp to his voice. “Are you?”

“I’m doing great.”

And you are. The weight of Azriel’s hand on your cheek is surprisingly pleasant. This exploration is new, and it’s thrilling, and it’s nice. It feels…nice.

“Do you want to keep going?” You know what you want to do. “Or would you like to stop? Whatever you want, Az.”

He swallows again. “I want to keep going.”

You nod, and in gentle encouragement, you move your hands to rest at his waist. You must be imagining the slight tremor that wracks through Azriel’s body in that moment. Or perhaps it’s just a coincidence.

There’s no time to think, because he dips his head and catches your lips faster this time. He tilts your head up, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. Your lips part, and so do his.

Az’s tongue seems to tease the seam of your lips. And then he slides it into your mouth.

His taste invades you so suddenly, so thoroughly, that you gasp. It’s something rough and smoky. Rugged and pleasant. You can’t think of the exact words as his tongue meets yours, and nor do you care to. All you want to do is reciprocate. Kiss him.

You scoot forward on the table, lifting yourself up slightly to add a touch more fervour to the kiss. Your tongue rolls around Azriel’s, and it’s so damn good, so damn sinful, so damn unexpected.

You’re aware, somewhat, of Azriel’s hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck. And he licks at the roof of your mouth, and at your tongue, and somehow at every part of you that has you wanting more. His lips work perfectly with yours, not faltering once.

In that moment, you might forget who you are and what your life story is, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget this — this kiss of pure, salacious, unguarded need. If this is what Azriel kisses like for the first time, you can’t imagine how he could possibly progress. How it could get better than this.

One of you makes a needy little noise — you think it might have come from him, but it lands in your mouth, anyway. And then you’re being yanked closer, and your hands are moving up to tangle within Azriel’s hair, and you’re tugging the strands and pulling him against you and kissing him so desperately that you’re sure you’re going to feel it days, weeks, months from now. Azriel’s fingers knead the back of your neck, and your legs snake around his waist, locking him in.

There’s movement. Natural, pleasant movement — you, him, both of you together, moving and shifting.

You don’t know at which point you’re lying back on the table, or which of you made it happen; but suddenly Azriel is hovering over you, his body flush to yours, too-hot parts of you meeting too-hot parts of him.

The kiss is burning, and needy, and you writhe beneath him, and he writhes on top of you, and he’s pressing against you, and you both groan.

And then Az breaks away.

He doesn’t move far — just rips his lips from yours.

You’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath. Azriel blinks down at you, and you blink up at him.

And in that moment, you become aware of just how far this has slipped. He’s basically lying on top of you, his body moving with yours. Your scents have changed and combined, and you both know what the earthier, deeper quality to them means.

That you got a little carried away. And this needs to stop — now.

Azriel stares down at you, panting against your mouth as your heart thunders in your ears.

“Fuck.” Is all he says.

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden

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bi-writes · 3 months

Text

bestfriend!roommate!simon leaves on an assignment, but he needs your help first. (18+)

more bff!roommate!simon (part 9/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, simon has thicc thighs, lap sitting, fem+m!receiving touching, thigh riding because i cant resist, soft!dom!simon, praise kink, size kink (reader described to be moved/handled easily by him), the mask doesn't come off, simon is a cocky bastard, a lotta angst

"simon, if you keep moving, i won't be able to finish, quit squirming."

"sorry, luv--afraid you'll prick me with that bloody thing."

you stuck your tongue out at him for a moment before setting back against his thighs. you sat so nicely there, your ass perched on the thick muscle as you worked. you had your tongue between your teeth as you concentrated.

your fingers held a thick needle, weaving it through the fabric of simon's balaclava and the plastic skull plate. he had ruined another piece; he had come home after his last deployment with the skull plate in pieces. he did not explain what had happened to it; you only tried to ignore the streaks of red along the face of it when you watched him throw it away.

you saw him sitting on the couch, trying to sew it together, but his big fingers made it a little difficult; you sweetly asked if you could help. a big plus--you got to sit in simon's lap and bask in the heat of him.

you adjusted, moving around until you were straddling his wide hips. you had to spread your own to accommodate his size, sitting up high to be able to reach the top of his head, weaving the thread through to tie the plastic to the fabric.

"bloody tits are in m'face, luv."

"yeah? never heard a man complain about that before," you laughed lowly. he grunted in response, a gloved hand wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. "what? you don't like 'em?"

he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and you laughed again, continuing to sew the plastic to the fabric.

"you're gonna look so scary," you smiled wide. "you like looking scary on the field?"

"keeps the little ones at bay."

"everyone's little to you, simon."

"aye."

you snorted, settling in his lap as you were almost finished sewing the mask. you tied off the thick thread when you were finished, using some scissors to cut the excess fabric. you met his eyes as you sat there, and you smiled at him; maybe he did look intimidating, but all you could think about was how those pretty eyes sparkled last night when he came into your hand and how much you were going to miss that look when he was gone.

"the paint, simon?"

he held up a small jar in one hand, and you took a brush from the coffee table and began to draw lines down the face of the mask. you passed over his dark eyes, winking at him playfully before doing the same line on the other half of the mask. you put the brush down, dipping the tip of your manicured finger in it and then starting to draw the lines down where the mouth of his face would be.

you could feel his warm breath against your finger, and you cupped his cheek with your other hand, holding him firm as you drew along the mask.

"i'm going to miss you, simon," you whispered, swallowing hard. you avoided his eyes, focusing on drawing along the cloth. you let out a shaky breath. "i-i mean...i always miss you, but now you're gonna be gone and...whenever you go, you go for a long time, and--"

simon squeezed your waist gently, quieting you. your bottom lip trembled a little, and you looked down, away from him.

"i-i'm sorry. i don't mean to get upset. it's stupid."

stupid. there was nothing stupid about being vulnerable. nothing stupid about baring yourself, being naked to someone in more ways than just the physical. the sex was easy together; it was everything else that simon fought with. feeling. being. loving. the mundane of that love, like coming home.

and coming home was not easy.

"'s not stupid, luv. i know i leave y'here. i know," he shook his head. "i don't do it on purpose, y'know that."

you nodded, "yes, yeah...i know. it's your job. and you're good at your job, and you made a commitment to your team, and they rely on you like you rely on them--i-i know the reasons." you smiled sadly. "i know. i just miss you...that's all."

there was an itch in the back of your head, a hoarseness lodged in your throat--sometimes you wanted to just keep talking, because forbid this be the last time i say it to you.

he hummed lowly, sliding his hands down low and cupping both sides of your ass, bringing you close. you wipe your hands off of the paint, sighing deeply, relaxing as simon leaned back against the couch and held you near. your hands circled around his neck, hugging him back as you breathed in each other--your scent, the sounds of your breath, the feel of each other's warmth.

you cleared your throat, smoothing your hands down simon's cheeks.

"let me get you geared up, yeah?"

you didn't wait for simon to answer. you picked yourself up off his lap, going to where he had his things laid out. you picked up his tactical vest, holsters, his skull-painted gloves, and you brought them back to the couch. simon sat up as you draped the vest over his head, fitting it over his shoulders. you untucked the hood of his jacket from under the vest, making sure it sat right before fastening the straps and making sure it was secure. you tugged on the straps just to make sure, your eyes skimming over the British flag on his chest and the prominent letters spelling SAS.

you busied yourself with switching out his gloves now, replacing the plain black ones with the painted-skull bone gloves. you didn't react to the calloused fingertips or the jagged scars along his hands. simon was so beautiful--every part of him was.

"i'm really proud of you, simon," you said softly. he hummed lowly but said nothing. you kissed his cheek gently, trying to meet his eyes and smile at him. "have i ever told you that?" simon shook his head, his eyes raising to stare intensely right into yours. you bit your lip. "well, i am. proud. you've come so far. they would be proud, too."

you didn't have to specify who they were. simon didn't flinch, but his eyes flickered.

you reached for one of the thigh holsters, sitting back and motioning for him to stand. when he did, you tried not to think about how much simon towered over you like this. he was taller than you, so much broader, taking up so much of your space. you reached up and started to fasten the holsters around his thigh, your fingers skimming the taut muscle there as you buckle it around him. you didn't comment on the fact that you nearly had to loosen the strap all the way just to fit around the thick of him.

you reached for the other holster, fastening it around his other thigh and looking up at him after you had finished. fuck, he looked good like this. he looked so much bigger--the width of him was greater, with you seated, you had to bend your neck back far, and having his back to the window cast low shadows over his face, darkening his gaze and giving him an eerie backlight. but you would never be afraid of simon--even all dressed up.

your lips part gently when his gloved hand cups just under your chin. you mewled lowly, looking up at him with those big eyes and a soft voice. simon knelt down suddenly, widening his thighs to cage you in on the couch and keeping a gentle hold of your chin.

"'m gonna be back before you know it, luv. sittin' right there--" he tilted his head to the spot to your left, "--y'know that, right?"

you broke out into a soft smile, bouncing a little as you nodded your head. simon clenched his jaw under the mask--fuck, you were so cute, so fucking sweet. there was nothing more comforting than knowing you were waiting for him when he came back--that you would be sitting here just like this, with this little smile on your face, your eyes so wide and pretty.

"i know," you whispered. you leaned over, smoothing your hands over the front of his vest before absentmindedly playing with the straps of it. "i know, simon. still going to miss you."

you don't meet his eyes. it was hard; simon was an important part of your life. any time you lived in his absence, it was lonely. now that you lived together, it felt that much lonelier--there was a room cold and unoccupied, an empty seat at the table, a spot on the couch without him in it. his voice soothed no nightmares and his warmth took away none of your shivering. you never told him that when you called; you only spoke of the meal you had cooked that you told him he would like and the annoying step at the entrance that the landlord still hadn't come to mend.

"c'mere."

simon smoothed his gloved hand down your chin, wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat. with a firm grip, he guided you into his lap as he sat back against the couch again, your body easily settling between his thighs again. your face relaxed, cheek smushed against his shoulder as you pressed your lips to the fabric over his neck. you sighed deeply, legs resting on either side of one of his thighs.

your head tilted back, your eyes peeking up to look at him. he moved his own head to the side, and beneath the skull, you could see those pretty dark eyes--beautiful, undeniable need in them. simon was terrible at hiding what he felt behind his eyes--they were warm, and his pupils were dilated, and you wondered if he saw the same pretty things in you that you saw in him.

your eyes fluttered when you felt one hand slide down the length of your spine. a warm, gentle hand, smoothing along the back of your shirt before cupping one side of your ass. you whined, a soft little sound escaping as you jumped slightly. your legs squeezed around his thigh, and you let out a gasp at the gentle grind. you reached up and cupped one side of his face at the first trace of pleasure, your lips pressing to the other side of it as he encouraged you to do it again.

you did. following his guiding hand, you dragged your hips up again, a strangled moan leaving you as you grind against his thigh. but it wasn't enough--as you moved, you whimpered against simon's face, letting out hot breaths of frustration. your jeans were too much of a barrier, not allowing for enough stimulation, and you felt pathetic when you heard simon's low chuckle.

"awww, sweetheart...look at ya..." he reached up with one paw of a hand and tangled a gloved hand into your hair, tugging on it firmly. he grunted as he watched your mouth fall open, slack jawed, drooling a little as you squeezed your thighs around his own. "look at tha'face. fuckin' beautiful, innit? that face you make when you want your cunny all nice and wet...when you want it pet..."

you cried out at that, nuzzling your face into his mask, kissing at the fabric and licking over the strong line of his jaw and hoping to god that he would have mercy on his pretty little roommate. that he would have mercy on her pretty face, on his name tumbling out of her mouth, on the way she grinded on his thigh like a lovesick bunny in heat.

"sound pathetic, luv..." he gripped the back of your neck, holding you at a distance now. he gripped the front of your jeans roughly, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. "now be a good puppy and take 'em off."

you shimmied out of your jeans, slipping them down your legs and kicking out of them. you were about to slip your panties off, pretty pink lace that hugged your ass so cute, but simon stopped you, forcing you back down to straddle his thigh.

"i like these," he murmured. "want them on."

you smiled, putting both hands on his vest. you gripped it tight, as tight as you could handle kevlar and bulletproof material, and then you nuzzled your face into mouth of his mask and began to ride his thigh. you were shaking. the straps of his holster were catching on your clit, and your hands were growing clammy as you tried to hold onto him for stability. you wanted to be good. you wanted to show simon how good you could be, how if he just unzipped his cargo pants and dropped them low enough, you could ride his cock so good, he'd see the fucking stars.

you hitched yourself higher on his leg, your thighs squeezing around the meat of his thigh, and he grunted lowly when your knee met his crotch. as you bounced, you rubbed up against him, and you squeaked when his gloved hand gripped your hair roughly, forcing your lips against the front of his mask. your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, a choked moan leaving you, and you kept going. you needed to show him, he needed to know--he needed to know that you wanted him, that you wanted this.

you let one hand drop, fall from his vest, and he growled out a string of angry curses when that soft hand gripped his cock through his pants. it was rough, a little aggressive, and you met his eyes easily.

"i want it--i-i want it--!" you cried. "i w-want more--"

he chuckled, and you felt tears prickling the edges of your big eyes as he laughed. your heart ached because you knew he was laughing at you. you sounded broken. you sounded lost. you sounded pathetic, but you couldn't care, you just couldn't bring yourself to. you needed more with simon.

you were tired of the in-between. you were sick of what if, when, the maybes that surrounded the unspoken thing between you. every grind of your hips, every drop of your slick that dampened his pants, all of it was just something in you screaming what are we?

he called your name, and you wanted to care about what he thought, but you needed him to know. you slipped your arms around his neck, moving until you straddled his hips, pressing your cunt right over the hardness stuck in his zipper and continuing your desperate pace.

you were going to make him understand this feeling inside. the gnawing in your chest--the thing that wanted to be outside so bad, it would claw its way out, it would force its fingers through your throat until simon could see that this wasn't a mistake.

this wasn't forgotten moments that lingered after dark. this wasn't the inevitable of a man and a woman who lived together. this was the catalyst of a bond too strong. two things, unable to be taken apart, to be reduced to separate things. there was not a simon riley without you, and there was no you without simon riley, and if he couldn't understand that, you didn't think you would survive the homecoming.

so you were going to fuck simon riley until he understood the knot was tight, and it would never unravel.

"kitty, wait--"

but he couldn't stop you. you swallowed his words, moaning desperately against the mask, your hips chasing the warm buzz that was creeping up your chest and down your thighs, your toes clenching as you notched the tip of his cock right up against your clit and fucked yourself harder against the smooth fabric of his pants.

"kitty--fuckin' christ--"

you sobbed, squeezing the back of his neck as you soaked his pants. your hips stuttered, small little circles that you made as you tried to ride out the trickle of warmth that was covering you like a comforting, pleasurable wave. your body relaxed, and you sucked on his jaw through the mask, tasting the musk and cigarette smoke that lingered there.

"simon--p-please--"

he grunted, pressing on the back of your head to tuck your face into his neck. you sniffled, moody and emotional from coming so hard, and you shook your head.

"y'r not ready for it. not time yet."

"i am," you sounded like such a baby. a cock-drunk pretty little roommate that needed something so desperately, she was so scared of what she might do to have it. to have him. "i am, please--"

"luv--"

"it's not fair," you gasped, pulling back from him. you stared up at him, and he hummed lowly, reaching up to wipe the tears that gathered under your eyes. "it's not fair, why--why can't i--?"

he tsked, clicking his tongue as he got to his feet, and your eyes lowered as he cursed under his breath, adjusting his pants, and you felt a sliver of victory as you realize that you made simon cum in his pants like a teenager.

"i w-won't wait forever."

the air in the room changed immediately. it came out of your mouth faster than you could stop it, and you tensed against the couch as his head turned, snapping to look at you.

"wot? wot did y'just say?"

"nothing."

"look at me."

you grit your teeth as he leaned down and knocked you under the chin, forcing your head to tilt back.

"wot did you just say?"

"nothing," you repeated, firmer this time. his eyes narrowed, two black, dull eyes staring down at you. his gaze was intense, and it was meant to scare you, but simon could never scare you. deep down, you knew he would never hurt you, at least not physically.

emotionally, simon had your heart in his hands, and those hands were not made to nurture. they were made to make pretty roommates cum and to pull dirty triggers. but nowhere in that did it say they were made to love you. nowhere did it specify he would keep it safe. you had given it up, before you had even realized, and he was playing you like his favorite instrument.

but simon didn't know how to play music. and there was a part of you that knew nothing about this was in tune.

when he goes, he doesn't say goodbye. and when you cried, it echoed in an empty room.

you would not wait forever. i will not wait forever.

he will not wait forever.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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jiminiecrickets · 15 days

Text

HEAVEN'S SHEATH. KTH / M!READER

summary. a wealthy lord's pacifist son finds friendship and affection in a poor soldier, unremarkable except for the fact that he is the lone survivor of a massacre. fate has different plans for them.

wc. 10k

tags. smut | top!reader, bottom!tae, virgin!reader with a big dick (lol), reader is described as tall/strong, descriptions of blood/injuries/death, sex while injured (reader), riding, multiple orgasms, 2/3rds is only worldbuilding oops im just like that!!

a cloud of dust billows beneath the heavy black hooves of a friesian stallion, sturdy and strong-chested. the well-travelled dirt path swings over rolling green knolls, past flocks of white sheep herded into valleys and heavy brown cows grazing along the hillside. the untouched countryside is marked by clusters of tall green trees along the road and they shade the large river snaking through the vale.

amongst the verdant growth, throned between the river and the hills, lies a large manor built strong with stone and brick. other buildings lay scattered around its feet, and life is most evident here – servants hurry about, ushering goats into their wooden pens and their young ones out of the way of the black horse's brisk high trot. the little children stare with big eyes up at the regal stallion's wavy mane, watching how it falls softly over its long neck with each step. it is a horse that carries great presence and elegance, and its rider is no different.

at the manor's grand front entrance, an older man stands in wait, both hands resting on a cane tipped at both ends with gold. his hair is almost fully grey. his steely eyes track the horse and the dust and pollen dirtying its fine feathering on the lower legs.

"you've been sorely missed, son," he says in an unreadable tone, light enough for politeness but darkened by his heavy gaze. "does wartime make for a better view?"

the rider dismounts, hushing the horse as it snorts and tosses its head, hooves stamping. it yearns for the freedom of the run. he pets its soft mane. his voice is deep and monotone with disinterest. "certainly. it's quieter."

the man's eyes narrow. "you left all the kitchen girls alone, who i know you've a fondness for. you should be at home to protect them, taehyung, not gallivanting off to paint your pictures."

silently, taehyung passes off the reins to the stablehand, and turns to stare up at his father from the bottom of the steps. he tugs off his kid-leather riding gloves and places them in the pocket of his navy blue coat. "what do i know of war and fighting? you were the general, not i. i'd say you are much better suited to protecting these frail women from suffering under the hands of conquerors."

"you are the son of a general," he replies sharply. "the youth must carry on what their fathers forged."

"hate and subjugation, of course," taehyung sighs, shifting his bag of paints in one arm and his canvas in another. "humanity's pinnacle."

"stay your wit, boy. you'll find no friends with it."

he slips past him through the open doors of the manor, his paints clinking in its leather saddlebag. "yes, my lord."

upstairs in a large, sunlit room, he sets it all down with a soft huff. he glances around at the canvases lining the walls, leaning against cupboards and drawers full of paint thinners and varnishes. portraits of one woman dominate most of them – slender, pale, with dark hair, full lips, and a soft curving nose. in some, she sits primly on a chair amongst vases of flowers and goblets of wine, and in others, on chaises in simple dresses with a needle and thread in her hands, glowing with the early summer light blooming behind her.

these are the ones hung up or placed atop chests of drawers. not one touches the ground – that place, on the edge between floor and wall, is reserved for simpler landscapes and still lifes.

"i remember i told you to take down those portraits. do you find joy in antagonising me?"

taehyung turns. his father stands on the threshold, cane by his side. after he returned from the last war with a limp and new scars, he has not worn any other colour but black.

he turns back to his saddlebags, indifferent as he slowly pulls his paints and brushes one at a time from the bag. "no. i find no joy in speaking to you at all."

his father's expression tightens. "i did not make her ill. it was chance and nature. your hatred of me will not bring her back, no matter how intense. it is time to move on, son. lingering on it breeds only worse things."

"'worse things'?" taehyung snaps, gripping a put of paint so tightly his knuckles turn white. "i am not one of your soldiers, so don't speak to me like one. i don't need your pragmatism, your war-bred heartlessness. all she wanted was you. all she asked for was you, and you never came."

he has had this argument many times over since that winter. it festers hot fury in his chest just thinking of it, and it has not burned dimmer with time.

he turns and approaches his father, eye-to-eye. he is not a boy anymore. he surveys him for a moment. "war may have reforged you, made you richer and cleverer, but it burned away all that she loved. you never once held her again, felt her breath on your cheek." taehyung brushes his knuckles over his jaw. he shakes his head and begins to walk down the hall. "don't touch those portraits."

back for only a few minutes and taehyung already cannot stand the solemn weight of the air within these walls. he pushes open the front doors with more force than necessary and wanders through the large, walled estate, stone brick encompassing the major centres of activity.

mindlessly, he travels past the cowherds and shepherds leading in the meat for supper, and the stablemaster tending to his friesian, and the beekeepers. he passes the wall and almost reaches the wheat farm.

hushed whispers float up from the riverbank. he stops in his tracks.

by the water, the girls and women who work with the granary from the farm are crowded around something on the bank. the linens of their dresses are dark with water up to their knees, where they hold it back.

he notices the expressions on the girls' faces – bright with nervousness and fear, but tinged with… curiosity? they whisper amongst themselves behind their hands.

he approaches, ducking under a branch of the oak they shelter beneath. "what is so interesting?"

they startle, several sets of eyes turning towards him. one of the older girls, about his age, drops into a fumbled curtsy. "oh, young master—! we weren't doing nothin' bad, sir, but we was hiding from the sun when we found something the lord sir might need know. we found 'im caught up on the root branches here."

him?

taehyung steps past her. his eyes widen.

a young soldier, skin tinged grey, lies on his back on the riverbank, the water lapping at his calves. his boots have come off somewhere in the water. he wears an unfamiliar uniform: a mixture of thick fabrics to stave off the cold adorned with a strangely-patterned leather jerkin.

it is a poor man's armour, he realises, made of what he can scrounge up and what fits from the garrison's armoury. despite his lack of wealth, taehyung can tell he is a big man – tall, strong in ways only a life of hard work can create. he is fair of face, too, handsomer than many young nobles taehyung has met. perhaps a blacksmith's apprentice, or a baker's boy?

"which… which army is he from, master taehyung? can you tell?"

the question awakens him from his daze. he blinks. "ah – bring him higher on the bank, get his legs out of the water. let me closer."

he crouches by the body, pulling at the heavy cloth draped over the torso. at the neck, where the cloth is bunched and rolled to pack in heat, he finds a small red patch.

taehyung sighs and presses the soaked cloth back into place. "this man is very, very far from home."

the girls glance at each other uncertainly. "what does that mean, master?"

"many years ago, his homeland was seized, and now his people are under southern rule. he was an infantryman. simple cannon fodder." with a soft exhale, he leans over the torso and pulls him onto his side to reach the lashes holding together his water-heavy coat. "perhaps i can bury him someplace high, so that his soul may be reminded of home."

the body jerks and chokes out a lungful of water with a ragged groan.

the girls yelp, stumbling back. taehyung would have had he not already been on his knees. his eyes widen as the soldier's face pinches in pain, eyes still shut. taehyung reaches for the oldest girl, gesturing frantically towards the manor on the horizon. "find my father and tell him what you've found! you've my permission to leave the farm and all of that – he's alive!"

—

it is dark. everything hurts. this is hell – this is punishment, eternal and unforgiving. this is deserved for desertion.

then – light. light rings against bone and flesh.

velvet. mahogany. silk and down.

there is a girl beside you, leaning over you. her linen dress is plain but clean with a white apron over it.

your side explodes with pain. you launch upright with a violent shout, gasping and clutching the hot ache under your ribs. cries of shock throb in your skull.

you blink, hard, eyes adjusting dizzily to the brightness of the room. your torso is wrapped in cloth, which you can feel flat and taut against your skin. your hand comes away clean, and for several unthinking moments, you wonder why. your thoughts are slow and heavy.

"you ought to relax, master," echoes a soft voice beside you. her vowels are round and elongated, the accent so different from your own that you barely recognise it, much less understand it. you stare up unseeingly at her youthful face, framed by dark curls held back by a bonnet. she steps forward, a damp sponge in her hand. that is why your limbs feel cold. "your injuries are quite severe."

"where am i?" you mumble, your tongue thick in your mouth. words are unfamiliar. "who're you?"

she glances up at the other maids, huddling by the door. she sets down the sponge and extends a hand, though you flinch from it. she does not try again. "you are in the northern highlands. hadria. my name is aemma."

"aemma," you murmur. the sounds are soft and round, like a river pebble. like a river, you realise, you are damp and naked, save for a single sheet of folded cloth across your lap. you feel your face grow hot and you clutch it close, folding your legs towards your body for security. "m-may i – where are my clothes?"

aemma gestures for one of the other girls, who quickly scoops up a folded pile of clothes from atop the chest at the base of the lavish bed. the rest of the bedroom is similarly luxurious, with a dark palette that soaks up sunlight to warm its wood. the walls are pale, though framed by polished wooden frames embracing the room.

"here," she replies. "the lord father has gifted you some riding clothes to wear in their stead. they were to be given to the young master when he turned of age, but…" she pauses. she shakes her head and curtsies. "you're to meet the lord father and his son shortly. we were to inform them when you were to wake eventually."

"eventually…" you trail off. "how long have i been here?"

"two days, master."

your head begins to pound. you cradle it, wincing, and reach for the offered clothes. they are clean and soft under your callused fingertips. "ah… i'm no lord, miss."

aemma smiles briefly, folding her hands over her stomach. "the lord father requires it, master."

you have no heart to push. in fact, you would much rather lay down for another two days, though knowing you are under the roof of a lord churns up too much fear to do so. if northern men were anything like southern ones, you would do anything to keep your name clean.

"i'd like to dress," you say softly, glancing briefly at the maids watching you from the corner of the room. "alone, if the lasses would allow it."

with another curtsy, aemma ushers the other girls out of the room and closes the door after them. you do not miss how they sent you curious glances as they left. she now stands where they once were, watching you with badly-disguised intrigue.

you clear your throat and feel your cheeks and neck blaze, folding the cloth around your hips tighter. "i'm sorry. i meant entirely."

perhaps it is your imagination, but you think you spot a tinge of pink wash over her features. she finds sudden interest in the knots and grain of the floor. "the lord father instructed that you were not to be left alone in case you required immediate medical attention. you are evidently still in pain, so i must protest."

"ah." you swallow, and your mouth is dry. "p-perhaps… you could turn around, then?"

she glances up, as if to say something, but eventually nods, bobbing in a small curtsy before turning to face the wall.

as quickly as your aching body will allow, you shuffle off of the bed and dress yourself in finer clothes than you have ever worn before. the cloth is soft and sits finely against your skin like a baby's breath. you are so used to abrasive linens that you almost feel more naked than before.

"you found my boots."

aemma turns around – she almost regrets it, spying the last sliver of skin before white cloth falls over it like the pull of curtains. it is more titillating than seeing the entirety of you bare. "o-oh – yes, one of the servant boys found them downstream."

"ah, thank you. and my uniform, miss," you glance up at her, leaning heavily against the bed poster to slip on your boots, "do you know what happened to it?"

"they're with the hold's tailor. i heard it took quite the beating."

"that could be said," you mumble, straightening up at last. your side twinges with pain, but you attempt a smile. "well, s'pose it's time to meet your lord. i've got to thank my saviours."

it is just turning to twilight, and the hazy golden sun on the horizon feels like little more than a memory. candles light the path past gold-spun tapestries and gleaming windows. aemma leads you to a grand dining room, reminiscent of castles and times long gone. she halts by the entrance, curtsies to you, and hurries away without another word, which you find strange as she had been a pleasant conversationalist when helping you through the halls and down the stairs.

"the soldier awakens at last. how do you feel?"

you glance away from aemma's retreating figure. at the head of the long dining table is an older man with sharp eyes and a natural severity about him. seated beside him is a younger man, around your age, staring into his plate with his hands folded in his lap. you step forward cautiously, and a male servant pulls out a chair on the older man's other side. the lord gestures at it, watching you carefully.

"well, milord; thank you," you answer, taking a seat and quietly thanking the servant who readied it in the first place. he bows but does not otherwise acknowledge you, his gaze on the ground as he slinks back into the shadows of the dining room.

"you were asleep for quite some time. my son doubted you would live." he gestures to the young man across from you, whose romantic dark curls are loose over his forehead. "i am glad you are feeling strong enough to join us for supper. i trust that the girls took care of you?"

"yes, milord," you reply, glancing over the table almost longingly. you swallow the saliva building in your mouth. silver platters are laden heavy with dark ox roasts, honeyed lamb shanks, roasted salmon fillets, sausages and baked potatoes, and braised vegetable stews steaming hot. ruby wine is poured into silver goblets. you have never seen so much food at once in your life.

"the war has yet to touch us. we have plenty to share," the lord informs, his voice almost kind. "how long has it been since you have last eaten, soldier?"

your throat bobs before speaking. "ah… four days, maybe, including my time spent here."

the man's brow arches. "your general did not feed you before battle?"

"no, milord. they ambushed us before our rations were due." you glance at the young man. he has yet to look up, or indeed even move. "we… had issues with our supplies. weevils in the grain, rats in the captains' meat. we turned from two meals a day, to one a day, then one every two." you pause. "i don't think one more meal would have saved us."

the room falls silent, with only the crackling of the fireplace breaking the stillness. green wood pops in the flames.

"well, don't wait for me to begin," says the lord suddenly, shifting comfortably in his seat and reaching for a leg of ox, stabbing it with a knife and lifting it onto his plate. he piles his plate high with potatoes and mash. the action seems to spur on his son, who jolts into motion like a creaking old waterwheel, movements slow and measured. "tell us your name, soldier. i'd like to know the name and story of our guest. now, news comes to us slowly in this isolated place. how fares the war effort?"

glancing down, you realise exactly how many pieces of cutlery there are. knives and forks, spoons and little spoons, all slightly different in shape or size. you pause, hand hovering over the knives, nerves tightening in your chest.

a soft cough. you glance up.

across from you, the son rests his delicate fingers on the outermost knife and fork, using them to carry a richly-glazed steak onto his plate. he chooses a large spoon, fingers lingering on it where it sits on the table, and places it into his bowl of stew.

his gaze lifts to meet yours and just as quickly, a butterfly's flap of wings, he glances away. his cheeks are dusted pink, the rosy colour like gold on his sun-warmed skin.

you copy him. you take a slab of steak from the dish right in front of you. you are starving, but everything about this manor makes you feel small, and you fear taking more than you are offered. you give them your name, for it is the only thing you truly own in these foreign lands.

"the war?" you continue, trying to shake the tremor from your voice. "i wouldn't know, milord. the captains don't tell us much. it's all the same – i've fought in three different battles. this was the third. they give their speeches about king and country, and then we fight. it is noble," you say hastily, "but i am not a warrior. not many of us were. the enemy outnumbered us, outskilled us, and when the poppy fields lay silent, they piled the bodies of all our fallen and made pyres out of us."

"such would explain the scorch marks on your clothes." the lord nods. he leans in, and you fight the urge to lean away. "i shall ask the question we all ask ourselves, if you would not mind. how did you survive such a massacre?"

you glance at the son. he eats quietly, forking small chunks of meat into his mouth. you glance away. "i remember a spear. it was tipped… with a blue and white flag. it waved in the black sky as i looked up at it." you frown. "i'd never seen one like it before."

"the temerian lilies," he replies, almost approvingly. "you must have been some opponent – if the flagbearer loses his flag, it is a great shame to the army. it must be held aloft at all times. he would rather die than lose it to the enemy."

you lift a shoulder. the other aches too much to try. "they pulled it out of me after, then dragged me to a pile of corpses. i… don't remember much, but i remember them squabbling over another soldier's brooch for a while. i only wanted to escape the stench of death." you survey the feast laid out before you. "i s'pose i have."

"then we shall celebrate that," hums the lord, lifting his goblet of wine. "my son was the one who found you floating down the river. he said you were cold as ice and only recognised you from the flag you had sewn into your coat. it is brave to carry your homeland's colours when fighting for their conquerors."

"it was a small creature comfort," you respond as nonchalantly as you can. "they could punish me all they liked, but could never kill me. they needed every man in their ranks."

the lord raises his brows, and something like admiration crosses his features. he glances at his son and that admiration turns into a tiny downturn of the lips. he turns back to you. "not a warrior, you say, yet you stand with the united courage of a battalion. who was your father?"

you notice how his son stills, holding the steak on his tongue behind his lips for a long moment. he closes his eyes and with a deep inhale, resumes eating, as if unaffected.

"just a farmer," you say, diverting your gaze. "dead, long past. my ma raised the rest of us – six boys. i was their second. when the army came knocking, askin' for sons, i went, gave them my name. my older brother knew how to count, how to run the mill. i couldn't let them take him, especially not from the little ones – after da died and ma got sick, he was all they had." you tap the edge of the silver plate with your finger thoughtfully. "i imagined i'd either die or be done after one battle, so i'd be brought home quick regardless. now… it's been four years."

then, the servants bring out a round white cake, slices set down around the table – what a perfect intermission. you have made it rather impossible to return to frivolity with your story, and you gaze down at the cake in front of you. you assume this is their dessert, so quaint and pretty on its little silver plate, but you have little idea of how to go about eating one. something so small must require a similarly-sized utensil. is it the tiny spoon? the tiny knife?

you lift your eyes to the young man across from you. he is already watching, eyes large and dark. he picks up a small three-tined fork from the inner edge, tilting it towards you to show you its appearance, the little notch on the left prong. this time, he doesn't look away, and you have enough time to offer a grateful smile, however brief. he blinks owlishly, almost in surprise, before lowering his gaze again.

it is unfortunate. you would not mind looking at him more. he is undoubtedly beautiful, almost pretty, the sort of face people would immortalise in myths and paintings on temple walls – a kind of elven face, like those that turn goddesses to jealousy and gods to obsession.

you spend the rest of the meal stealing glances at each other when you think the other is not watching. he is far more successful than you.

—

from behind a balcony's closed doors, taehyung gazes up at the crescent moon hanging high in the sky, surrounded by pale stars glittering in the blanket of darkness. he cannot stop thinking about the shy farmer's boy, his accent unfamiliarly pleasant – the vowels are soft and blurred, with each consonant crisp and clear. it makes for a bouncing sort of melody to his voice, one that draws taehyung deeper into his song.

he sighs softly and turns away from the night's landscape, uncrossing his arms and meandering through the empty halls. most of the servants are already tucked away, and his father drowns himself alone in old letters and wine.

in loose trousers and a looser white shirt, the vee of the collared neck laced with string, he finds himself in his library, rich and warm from a hearth already lit. curious. he shuts the open double doors behind him quietly to keep the heat from dissipating into the night.

his silent feet carry him through the aisles, where the shelves brush the ceiling with books and ladders. a walkway surrounds the room, essentially giving it a second level.

silhouetted black against the white glow of the moon beyond the arched window, a familiarly unfamiliar figure stands in silence, gaze turned up towards the heavens beyond the lines of books and old tomes.

standing in this still and quiet room, statue-esque in the way of classics, taehyung cannot help the journey of his gaze wandering up and down the planes of your body, painting to himself the sturdiness of your shoulders, the perfect balance between your booted feet. there is a severity about you he recognises in his own father – he sees it in your arms, tucked behind your back, and the practised way of standing that arches the spine just so to emphasise the broadness of the chest. yet, he knows gentleness when he sees it, and he finds it in the almost childlike awe in your expression, aimed up at his personal collection.

he steps out, the shadows melting from him like the shedding feathers of a raven. "what are you doing in my library?"

you startle, and taehyung almost regrets interrupting you. coward that he is, he would rather watch from afar than bring you out of that handsome serenity.

"f-forgive me, sir," you stammer, twisting your hands together as you incline in an awkward half-bow, half-stumble, evidently having forgotten the extent of your injuries as your expression tightens and your hand brushes over your side. "i didn't know it was yours. the – the doors were open, and i—"

"invited yourself in," he finishes.

"i – yes, sir…"

before you, he stands perfectly still. you could fool yourself into thinking his heart does not beat, for he is pale in the moonlight and beautifully dark-haired, with eyes like midnight lakes and lips like a rose.

you tear your gaze from his, breaking your trance. you begin to move past him. "forgive me, milord. i shan't interrupt you."

his hand darts out, wrapping itself around your wrist. serpentine, it slides up your arm and grips your bicep, forming creases in the cloth.

"you shouldn't move so quickly. you're injured." he turns his gaze on you. "you'd leave so soon?"

"ah…" you flounder, helpless. "if the lord wish it so."

his searching gaze strips your body bare. you feel it prod your soul when his eyes meet yours. his eyes scan your face, and he reaches up with his other hand, brushing it lightly against the slope of your jaw. his skin is warm and tender-soft. your breath hitches.

"the maids missed a spot when shaving," he mutters, pressing his fingers against the patch of half-shorn stubble left on the soft underside of your chin. "a man would do it better."

all at once, he drops his hand and looks away. "i am no lord," he replies, his low, rich voice like waves lapping at the sides of a ship, almost careless. "just his son."

you hesitate, your heartbeat still in your ears. "th-then what should i call you, sir?"

he glances down where bandages hide the hole in your body. "just 'taehyung' will do," he says softly, eyes lifting again. he unravels his arm from yours, turning fully towards you. "you may stay – as long as you are quiet."

he moves away, so graceful he may as well have floated. his fingers glide over the covers like bumps of the spine, and they pluck a small yellow book from the shelf. he opens it, already turning to the first page even before he finds a chair to sit in. he curls up in front of the grand fireplace, the furry hide of a brown bear thrown across the floor in front of it.

for a while, you simply watch him and listen to the crackling of the fire. his slim fingers glide across the pages to turn them, the edge of the page caught gently on the pad of his thumb.

bathed in the yellow and orange hues of the fire, the lord's son is every bit as regal as northerners are said to be – hair like calligraphy ink, cheekbones fine, slim bodies tall and lithe. you could lose yourself in his cold, gentle darkness.

that burbling feeling of being out of place rises to the surface, worse than when you sat before the lord at his table. you and your callused palms, your worn and labour-worked body. you should not be here.

"you know you can choose a book, yes? i don't mind." he glances up. "forgive the mess. i can help. what do you like to read?"

"i'm sorry, sir," you murmur, averting your gaze. "i can't read."

it seems he'd forgotten your roots. he blinks. "oh. my apologies. but if not to read, what interested you about my library?"

"ah," you chuckle, scratching your head. "i've just never seen so many books in one place. travelling merchants would display some, but never like this."

"i see." he surveys you intensely, then glances away and clears his throat. he shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs. at last, he says stiffly, "if you'd like… i can… read to you."

the silence is thick with more than just the fire's heat. it is hard to know taehyung's hot face is not because of the fire, and he is grateful.

"if milord wishes to," you reply quietly, watching him for any twitch of his expression that may give him away.

"of course. i wouldn't offer it if i didn't." he gestures to the chaise beside him. "sit."

you step into the semicircle of light afforded by the fireplace, licked by tendrils of warmth, and ease yourself into the chair with a soft grunt, holding your side. "milord is as kind as he is beautiful."

his eyes flicker down to your lap. "i wish you wouldn't call me that," he says suddenly, a little sharper. "can i not be called my own name in my home?"

your mouth opens and closes. after a moment, you reply softly, "i meant no offence. it just feels… wrong."

slowly, he exhales, closing his eyes and his book. he places a hand over its cover. "all of my life has felt wrong. everything is wrong no matter what i do – who i wish to be, the company i keep, the fears i carry… the love i desire." he pauses, opening his eyes to your earnest expression. he diverts his gaze to the yellow-gold cover of the book. "what more can one last wrong hurt?"

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "perhaps i can start over." you straighten slightly, offering a crooked half-smile. "what do you want to read to me, taehyung?"

he does not disagree that his name sounds strange coming from another's mouth, but he cannot remember the last time it was used by anyone else. he hums and rises to his feet, coming to stand over you in front of the fire; his shadow cast over your body deepens the maturity of your features.

"when you said i was beautiful," he asks, "did you mean it?"

staring up at him, you can do nothing but tilt your head in bewilderment. "yes. you are fair and handsome."

taehyung chooses his next words carefully. "if… i were a girl," he decides, clasping his book over his stomach with straight arms, "would it be a different sort of beauty?"

you frown, shaping an approximation of a girl with taehyung's features in your mind. "maybe. but she would still be beautiful if she was you." you shake your head, dispelling morphing images of regal dark-haired daughters. you hide your warm cheeks behind an apologetic smile. "i'm sorry. i don't know much. i don't usually deal with such thoughts."

but it was enough for taehyung. slowly, as if not to frighten you, he lowers himself, grasping the chaise's rests and draping himself gently over your lap. he watches your face all the while, his heart beating faster at the shock and nervousness that cross your face in a single second.

"is this… is this alright?" he whispers, placing his hand against your chest.

your adam's apple bobs, your hands hovering an inch off of his body as if he is made of glass. gently, you place one on taehyung's knee and the other behind his back, and glance up at him.

"perhaps you can sit closer," you murmur, eyes wide and searching, "so you may not fall."

taehyung smiles, then – the first smile of his you have ever seen. it is sweet, and crinkles the corners of his eyes. it makes your heart swell.

he hides his smile in his chest, his knuckles brushing the corner of his lips. he lifts his eyes, and a sliver of hope twinkles in them. "shall i read to you, then? i will give you a synopsis of each story so you may choose your favourite."

"please," you murmur, settling back in the chair and sliding your hand higher up taehyung's thigh so he may be more comfortable. "do whatever you wish."

"'whatever'?" he hums, and with a flippant little kick, throws off his boots to the ground, where they thump carelessly. he meets your eyes and falls into a nervous smile, tucking his bare feet against your leg and resting his temple against your shoulder. his hair is still slightly damp at the ends from his earlier evening bath. "then you wouldn't mind this, would you?"

"of course not," you whisper, biting back a shy, embarrassed smile. you are too old to be acting like this, especially with the only son of a wealthy lord, but the rush of excitement from seeing such a reticent man blossom and show his petals to you is too much to keep you away. "i am only a farmer's boy, taehyung. anything with someone like you is… a dream."

at the mention of his name, his smile widens slightly and a pinkness warms the apples of his cheeks. he busies himself with opening the book and flipping through its contents to find the correct page. he presses his thumb against the spine between the pages.

"here." he taps the words on the page. "this story is one my mother used to read to me. a princess is trapped in a tower, guarded by a dragon in an ever-changing thorn maze, and a brave, handsome knight rescues her. they are married and live happily ever after."

he looks up at you, searching for a reaction, and you can only give a breathy laugh in return, still dizzy with the idea that someone like taehyung could ever be interested in someone like you. "are you sure you should be telling me these stories? i'm not a princess or a brave knight. i'm plain."

"perhaps. but do you know who else was seen as plain?" he taps your chest. "the dragon, disguised as a statue. and you, strong dragon, will protect the princess," he taps his own chest, "from all the boredom and politics of castle life."

"don't you have other, richer boys chasing you?" you ask, because you know your place. "your own knight? i don't see what i offer that they can't."

he licks his lips, setting aside the small book on a round side table and swinging his legs over your lap to straddle you. reading it is the last thing on his mind. "i do, of course. but it is like you said – they are boys. when their wooden sword chips, they get a new one." he trails his fingers lightly down the centre of your chest, wide and strong, and tentatively cups what is between your legs. he leans in, long-lashed brown eyes flickering down to your lips. "i want more than that."

"i—" your breath hitches as he squeezes gently, learning its shape and heft with deft fingers. "a-are we allowed to…? i am a stranger in strange lands with nothing to my name."

he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours. his soft hair curtains your eyes. "allowed? no. but when a handsome soldier from far away falls into my lap, what else is a man to do?" he draws his thumb over your jawline, stroking your cheek. he lowers his lips to yours, hot breath sweet with honeyed treats. with the faintest thread of a breath, he whispers, "may i?"

with your heartbeat thudding in your ears, your head inclines, and taehyung wraps his arms around your shoulders and pushes his lips to yours.

his moan is sweet and starved as you kiss back to the best of your ability, your hands falling naturally about his waist. his lips are plump and warm, pillowy, and slicken with saliva as he deepens it, cupping the back of your head and pressing himself higher onto your body. he is desperate and dominating, sitting in your lap and rolling his hips into yours. you can feel his excitement through the cotton of his trousers.

when you part regretfully, gulping down air, he cups your face, his eyes dark yet gentle. he licks his shining lips, parted to pant. "you seem apprehensive. have you ever done this with a man?"

you wipe your lips with your thumb, tongue swiping over them in an almost bewildered motion. your eyes are wide. "a-ah… no. not with… anyone…"

"not even a girl?" he cannot help the surprise that coats his tone.

you shake your head, face aflame. "i never… my older brother had my father's charm. he was the one they all wanted, strong but lean. i was too much of a bull. they had fantasies of princes, and he was closer to it than i."

deeply and tenderly, he kisses you again. "it only means i won't have to fight anyone to call you mine." he brushes his thumb over your lips. "that suits me just fine. i was never the fighting sort."

he sits up on your lap, thighs bracketing yours. his bare feet tuck beneath him under his knees. when his palm grazes the front of your trousers, your breath hitches in your chest, and taehyung gives you a soft, if coy, grin. "i'll be gentle," he promises. he tugs slightly on the laces of the waist. "may i?"

mutely, you nod, your words sinking into the whirling depths of his eyes. his deft fingers undo the laces with ease and he pulls the thick cloth down your waist, tracing the vee of your hips with a pleased breath. he reaches in, lifting his gaze to gauge your expression. your chest rises and falls rapidly, and your knuckles are tensed on the chaise's armrest. the other arm is tucked tightly by your side.

"don't be nervous," he whispers, stroking you gently in your trousers. it twitches in his palm. "place your hands on my waist, darling. good. very good."

hesitantly, your hands graze his hips, sliding up to grip his slender waist. you splay a hand beside his waist, measuring it against him with fascination. he is slim and lovely… like the city nobles' soft-palmed daughters. you had noticed his hands during supper but hadn't the room to mull over them then, though now you do. they are square, masculine, but slender and fine-veined. his nails are clean and cut short, with a thin crescent of white at the ends.

he could not have been more perfect if he tried.

he slides his fist up to the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb against the slit and the smooth skin. you are mostly soft, but still impressive – the number of taehyung's clandestine trysts have lent him a certain experience when it comes to men.

you have reinforced your place as his favourite.

"i see why they call you a bull," he says slyly, squeezing your shaft as his fist sinks down on it. "they just don't know how to tame you."

your face floods with heat as you stutter meaninglessly. your grip tightens on taehyung's hips and a single slant of a thought marvels at how delicate he feels in your palms.

"be still, my darling," he murmurs, "and be at ease. you are no longer at war. you can close your eyes and hold me without fear. nothing will happen unless we want it to."

his voice, like syrup, melts the frantic whirlwind of thoughts in your head. you cannot help but want to believe him. "you make it sound so simple. i want to believe you."

"why can't it be?" he tilts his head, glancing down and stroking you contentedly. he swipes his thumb over the slit, where a bead of precome bubbles. oil – from a small bottle you only now spot in taehyung's palm – smooths each stroke of your shaft. "the world is so complicated. affection can afford to be simple."

he lets go for a moment to step back, sliding his trousers down his hips and calves and tossing them aside on the chaise. he flicks his dark hair and tucks a lock over his ear as he reassumes his place on your lap, pressing his chest against yours and tugging your cock to throb against the curve of his ass. the silk of his white shirt is cool and light against your hot skin.

his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as his hips roll languidly. he whispers, "do you want this?"

do you want more? the question is unasked, but you hear it anyway.

"i do, yes. please," you reply immediately, your voice rough with desire. your hands trail over his hips and tuck beneath the long hem of his shirt to caress his warm, creamy thighs, a feeling that traps your breath in your throat. you force out a sigh, shaky, and rest your forehead against taehyung's shoulder. he hushes you and cups the back of your head, reaching with his other hand behind himself to ease you inside his warmth.

taehyung's head tips back with a slow exhale, shuddering as you pulse with heat inside of him. he watches you closely, committing to memory the way your brows pinch and your mouth falls open as your grasp tightens, trembling, around his waist.

"do you like that?" he whispers, breathy. he bounces shallowly, grinding his hips into yours. "how do you feel?"

"good," you choke out through a groan. your hand slides down to the dip in his back, trying not to seem too eager as it cups his ass. "oh, fuck…"

"don't hold back for me," he murmurs, hips quickening. he moans in surprise as you buck up into him, thighs meeting his ass. the slap of your balls against his ass is obscene, and he scrambles to cling onto your shoulders for balance.

"wait – wait, wait," he gasps, lashes fluttering as your cock kisses that spot inside of him that burns pleasure through his guts.

you stop immediately, sliding your hand up his side. "i'm sorry! are you alright?"

he huffs a laugh, panting softly, and nods. "you're injured, darling. don't waste the good work we put into putting you back together. sit back – i will take care of you, understand?"

"a-ah…" your face burns with heat. "all right. whatever milord desires."

"very good." he presses down on your hips gently, his hands between his thighs. he lifts himself off of your cock until only the tip rests against his hole, then sinks down on it in one smooth motion. a strangled noise escapes your throat as you scramble to hold onto him. his heat grips your shaft like a vice, gummy walls clamping down around you with each drop of his hips.

he moans when your fingers dig into the sensitive skin of his hips, sweat gathering in the small of his back. the fireplace crackles softly, the air warm and sweet with the smell of sex.

he gathers his shirt in his hands about his ribs, revealing his dusky cock, swollen with need. he takes your hand and curls your fingers around his shaft, his eyes fluttering and lips parting as you tighten it. your callused palms drag deliciously against his veins and he grips your wrist with a soft groan, bouncing on your lap in such a way that he thrusts into the warm tunnel of your fist.

carefully, you stroke his cock, cautious about rubbing raw or tearing his skin. wealthy boys are a different breed – so much softer, easier to hurt. the smell of him, sweet and musky, hangs in the air around him, enveloping you when he draws close – crushed petals, herbs, leaves. it seems foreign, or at least the mixture does, for you cannot quite place your finger on it – then again, what do you know of luxuries like this?

"you are doing well," taehyung praises, gasping as you flick the head of his cock with your thumb. "oh, yes… f-fast learner, hm? oh!"

a jerk of your hips has him jolting forward, his cock spurting a sudden white rope onto your stomach. he purrs, bracing against your chest and slamming his hips down on your cock to slicken him with your pleasure. it works, and he seems unduly proud of himself when your cock throbs and leaks, forming a white ring around the hilt that thickens with each bounce of his ass.

"milord – milord," you gasp, a tiny pathetic noise that does not match your appearance, "please – i'm—"

"let go," he demands, a breathy moan escaping his lips. he closes his eyes and lets out a punched groan as your cock carves into his insides, deeper than any other man had ever touched. his reddened cock throbs, slit pouring precome over his belly and thighs. the pleasure curls around his thoughts, his head spinning from it, and he feels your stomach tense under his palms.

you spill into him with a deep, satisfied growl, head tipping back as he arches against you. your hips roll up against his and the coil tightening in his belly snaps at the sight of you so wrecked from so little. he cries out, ropes of white streaking across your shirt, and his hips stutter and roll, milking your pleasure for his own like a succubus. he presses his ass into your lap, white teeth sinking into his plump lower lip, and his eyes roll as the thick warmth fills him up to the brim.

at last, he slumps against your chest, thighs trembling and tensing as he hums softly into your neck. he buries his nose in the soft, warm skin, and cups your cheek to place a soft kiss on the corner of your jaw.

"mm… good," he purrs, smiling with tender satisfaction. "i – i shall bring you to your… mm… room. it is just down the hall from my own... should you wish to see me, you only need to knock." his breath hitches as he raises his hips slowly, hole twitching around your shaft, and when it pops out, a steady stream of come leaks from him, staining his tanned skin. he sighs, closing his eyes to the slowing of your heartbeat. "but i think i will stay here for a time, if you don't mind. just until i – until i regain feeling and control of my legs."

"is that… is that normal?" you ask, a tiny panting tremor in your voice. "to lose feeling like that?"

taehyung laughs into your neck, eyes crinkling. "sometimes, when i feel overwhelmed. it is no fault of yours – you are just… big. don't worry. i liked it."

he shifts in your lap to get comfortable but pauses as something pokes his thigh. a sly smile spreads across his fine features, his fingers lifting to trace your jaw and tip your gaze to his own. he purrs, "is that for me, love? excited again?"

you gulp, unable to tear your stare from his despite the embarrassment clawing at your throat. "i – i…"

"handsome and energetic. i'm a lucky man." he laughs softly, reaching behind himself and groping your hard cock with a low moan. "i myself have been told i'm rather voracious. perhaps you will be the first to keep up with me."

he lowers himself on your cock, head tipping back as he teases himself with the thick head. his dick twitches.

"what say you to a change of scenery?" he asks coyly, perfectly content with your ragged-breath silence. every word you might have said disintegrates on your tongue when he turns around, arching his back and pinning your cock to your stomach. shining precome smears along the cleft of his ass.

his body, carved out of shadows by the fire, rocks and rolls like a ship in the harbour when all its crew are asleep. with an encouraging smile, he takes your hands and places them on his hips, pressing on them to guide you to control his body. he hums softly as you squeeze his hips and spread his asscheeks, your breath shaky as he angles his messy hole against your leaking tip.

he watches your face with gentle eyes as he sinks down on your cock, his warm, wet hole swallowing up your shaft like he was made for it. you jump slightly when his ass firmly meets your lap, taking you hungrily until the hilt, and if he were a lesser man, your expression alone would have been enough to tip him over the edge. he sears every line of your face, every edge and plane, into the backs of his eyelids. it will make for fine company on lonely nights.

you speak for the first time in a while. "p-please…" you whisper hoarsely, blunt nails digging into his smooth, unmarred skin, leaving crescent moons in your wake. "please, move."

"ah, but you are badly hurt… i must take my time with you. mustn't alert the servants, either, for they'd certainly report to my father what they've seen." taehyung giggles to himself, gnawing on his lower lip in an effort to subdue his grin. he grinds down into your lap in circles, relishing in the pleasured, impatient groans that escape your throat. "he'd toss you out in an instant, and we cannot have that! i haven't yet had my fill of you."

"a-are you always so… playful with your men, taehyung?" you ask, voice slightly strained. you watch your cock vanish into him, over and over again. the sound that is made when he bounces on your lap is obscene and filthy. your heart stirs with desire.

"mmh – no. my past conquests have not been as – as alluring as you," he gasps, wrapping his hand around his throbbing cock, thumb rubbing circles over the ridge of his tip. "mostly, they bore me. you, however – you're more than a cock i can use to please myself, if i may speak so crudely."

"i – ah – th-think i should be grateful, then…?" you reply uncertainly.

"yes. unless, of course, you enjoy that sort of game… but tonight is about simplicity," he breathes, his skin tingling where your rough palms glide over his thighs, soft as cream. "we have only so long until the sun rises and the servants wake. i want to spend that time with you – learning your homeland's ballads and epics, your favourite flower, where i can touch to make you melt…"

he looses an airy laugh as your grip tightens on his waist, his shirt folded up between your fingers to reveal the curve of his spine and ass. you drag him down onto your cock roughly and he keens, eyes rolling back briefly. "ooh, y-you like that, don't you? ah—!"

already he is so sensitive. nowhere else has he felt pleasure like this – where his body is treated as more than a means to an end. he had been completely content with that when he entered this library, agreeable to the idea that you might like him only for what he can give you. but he swears – he swears on the old gods and the new – that the way you press your nose into the curve of his neck, the way you stroke him thin and thick tight and loose – caring, properly, for his own high – means your attraction is more than fleeting.

years of ending up alone in empty beds have made him soft. lonely. desperate. perhaps he is reading into things too deeply, as he always does – poor boy, always a poet. the backs of his eyes sting with hot tears as his tightly-controlled leash snaps, making him cry out, writhe, and shudder, knees and elbows buckling under the weight of his orgasm.

you catch him in your arms before he can slip, pulling him backwards towards your chest. it is warm, your throat shining with sweat, and he can feel the burning fever of your body through your clothes. still, you do not let go, push him away – you cradle him close, your heart thudding through your ribcage and into his own.

one of your hands tugs languidly at his cock, milking his pleasure from him. you watch quietly as it spills over your knuckles, your lips pressed against his sweat-slick shoulder, and help him lift his hips off of your cock.

for the first time in what feels like hours, taehyung takes a deep, full breath of air. he cups your face in a hand and smiles, wide and content.

"i didn't believe you could be more beautiful," you murmur, words slightly clipped at the end from a lack of breath. "i've never been happier to be wrong."

he opens his eyes with a flutter of lashes, pleasantly surprised. "haven't i already let you take me?"

"what do you mean?" you ask with a frown, tilting your head. your thoughts are foggy with warm laziness. the fire's heat does not help. "taehyung?"

the sound of his name almost startles him. he sits up, and a pleasurable ache sparks up his spine. he sucks in a deep breath. "you really… truly think that of me?"

you blink slowly, like a cat, and the fire's flames dance in your eyes. "i am a simple soldier. lies are above a man like me."

"you're more than that," he replies immediately, turning around on your lap to face you properly. "if you were just a soldier, you would have died on that battlefield. forgive me, but you had all the time to die on your way down the river. still, you survived." his voice softens, and he fiddles with your collar, straightening it and folding it down. "i am glad you did. i am glad to have met you."

"ah…" gently, you tug his shirt down, allowing him the return of some of his dignity, though he does not seem to care. "that reminds me – i shouldn't waste much time here. i should report to the general."

"for what?" taehyung scoffs, and it sounds… hurt. he glances away. "am i so repugnant you would rather march thirty miles a day in mud-soaked boots than stay here with me?"

"no!" you protest, sitting up as best you can with the growing ache in your side. you had been too caught up in the moment to remember it, and now your body reminds you jealously. "t'ain't that, taehyung. you are intelligent and kind and if we were in my homeland, i wouldn't hesitate to ask your hand. but surely you have a girl you're supposed to marry?"

"no, not at the moment. despite what he says, my father still grieves my mother. it will be a while yet before he'll allow another woman into the house." he traces shapes into your skin. "i will free you from the servitude of the evil king who bound you, and together, princess and dragon will live freely, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their backs."

at first, you smile at the newfound softness of his voice, but freeze. "free… of servitude?"

taehyung watches you, draping his legs over the other side of the armchair, kicking his feet lazily. his eyes are dark and watchful. "as i know it, the king's oath swears that you are only relieved of your duty when you give your blood for his and fall in battle against his enemies. have you not satisfied these requirements?"

"i may be no scholar, but i'm near certain that to 'fall in battle' means to die in it."

"have you not satisfied these requirements?" he repeats, firmer. "our doctors and priests said you were dead when i brought you to them. they said you may have been alive when i found you, but somewhere between the riverbank and their stone table marked the spot where you died. as they proclaimed this, you coughed again, and nobody could deny me this time when i said you were very clearly alive."

"you are telling me that i died… and returned? like a saint?" you ask sceptically.

"i only tell you what our doctors told me."

for a while, you are silent. determination creases taehyung's brow, and you cannot hold in the disbelieving laugh that erupts from you, though it morphs into a groan of pain in the middle. taehyung sits up and presses his palm to your cheek, his eyes so vivid and certain.

"you have already died, and thus retain no obligations to the crown," he whispers. his gaze scours your face. "you are free. free to stay here. live here…"

with me.

your heart drops into your stomach. you grip his waist, shifting in the velvet chaise. "i'm…"

"agree. agree to it. even if i cannot bear your children, we will sleep in the same bed, take walks in the wheat fields, eat and drink every meal together. you won't fear for your life every day. and as soon as the war ends and they open the trade routes to your home, i shall book passage on a ship and take you there. you may stay, if you wish. i won't deny you."

"then why offer at all?" you ask quietly. "if you think i'll leave you the moment i can, why would you even try?"

"i can hope, can i not? by all accounts our kings have no desire to cease any time soon. perhaps you will learn to love me in time." he smiles, faint, and averts his gaze. "otherwise, i will be glad to help another soul. you will survive the war and return to your family, whole and healthy. out here, away from people, i have little chance to do something so good and noble."

"and if i grow restless? if i want to do something with my hands?"

he tilts his head thoughtfully. "how is your aim?"

"fair, i s'pose. haven't missed when it's important."

"the lord's hunter grows old," he proclaims. "he can teach you what he knows, and if you like, you may take up the title once he can no longer ride and shoot. besides that, there is always work to be done in the fields and granary – perhaps you'll find some comfort in the farms?"

you think about it, long and hard. in essence you would be a prisoner at his beck and call, though if taehyung tells the truth and is as earnest as he appears, perhaps you'll find freedom and enough work to fill your days with…

you give your answer, and taehyung's smile is like the sun.

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andreas-river · 8 months

Text

➷ Kinktober 2023

Day V: Gangbang || Task Force 141

Cross-posted on Ao3.

It was supposed to be wrong, to feel so good at the point where your body had a mind of its own, to have goosebumps running down your skin as waves of pleasure collided against you, one after the other, like the hands that caressed you so gently, in contrast to the way your Captain drove into you with firm thrusts.

You didn't realize they had that in mind as you were the only ones in the base's private bar, the last mission still too fresh in your tired mind. From talking about some rookie on the base who was causing trouble, to discussing who had to take you first. Definitely normal, and the thought of being the only woman on the team made you almost self-conscious, their words full of lust that made your cheeks blush furiously and your blood boil, but not only from embarrassment.

Ghost was the one holding your wrists, preventing you from controlling your own pleasure—unfortunately, you were the type of woman who needed more than just something pounding inside your pussy to make you come, almost regretting saying it out loud when everyone was undressing—except Ghost of course, who only took off his jacket and unzipped his pants, but at least he didn't have his usual gloves.

Lying down on the wooden coffee table, Price finished with a grunt, pulling out and painting your lower abdomen with his white cum, the room filled with ragged breaths and your whimpers. He fixed himself under your unfocused gaze while the others stared at you with hungrier eyes.

He smiled, sitting on the couch as he lit his cigar. "She's all yours, boys," he takes a drag, everyone staring at your body ravenously. "I'm just going to enjoy this for now."

Gaz exhales, his face adorned with the widest of his grins. "You all heard him—she's ours."

Soon you were manhandled, standing for a brief second before Gaz took your place, encouraging you to straddle him, your thighs trembling at being so open as they helped you down onto his cock, a trail of pre-cum along his entire shaft feeling like natural lubricant.

Not that you needed it, and for a moment you actually denied the thought from your mind as you finally sat on top of him, every vein of him pulsing inside you, but you gasped as something cold made contact with your asshole, your voice silenced by Ghost who made sure you had your lips sealed to his hard cock, your moans and whimpers falling on deaf ears as Soap's finger nudged gently against it, the muscles inside wrapping around his finger so tightly you heard him hiss for a moment.

He opened your hole with another finger, your body naturally trying to escape, but from Simon's big cock resting on your tongue, making you drool on him, coating the hot skin with your saliva, while the shallow thrusts Gaz gave from below, the position perfect for hitting something so deep inside you that you'd never felt so full in your life—it didn't take much, of course, for Soap to start pressing the tip against your hole, the tight ring of muscles trying so hard to accommodate him inside.

You felt dizzy when he was fully inside you, jolts of pain mixing with arousal. You had to close your eyes, overwhelmed by the amount of sensations your body was being subjected to. For a moment your ears were ringing, but the hands on your body helped you back to reality, murmuring praise and caressing your soft skin. Soap began to move slowly and all three men cursed, and you couldn't help but moan at their words, how they praised every part of you and at the same time made your guts twist, setting your nerves on fire and making you a complete mess.

Both Gaz and Soap were merciless, pounding the pleasure out of you as they moved in sync while tears formed in your eyes from Ghost's cock using your throat like a hole to fuck at his own pace—they were the ones who decided where they wanted you, when you would cum, making you feel so helpless yet powerful at how you made them feel, their cock aching only for you. Each of them was so close you could feel Gaz underneath you holding your hips tighter, Soap's thrusting becoming more erratic and Ghost holding your head tighter, the lack of oxygen making you feel like you were under the effect of some drug.

But when something pinched your clit—two fingers right on top of it, rubbing that little bundle of nerves that hadn't received any attention from the start—that was the end, your eyes rolling in your skull as you came, thighs trembling as you almost screamed but your voice still muffled by the cock in your mouth. Your body went completely limp, mind still awake but consciousness elsewhere—definitely on cloud nine.

Even though you didn't realize it, the three men came after you, Ghost being the only one who pulled out to prevent you from choking, while Price was the one who held most of your weight after he decided to rejoin, just to make you cum instantly without any effort at all.

When you opened your eyes again, someone was holding your head and holding a glass of water to your lips, encouraging you to drink it. The fresh liquid felt so good on your sore throat, your body shivered slightly from the adrenaline that was finally wearing off, but they all noticed and placed a blanket on top of you—where they got it, was a mystery.

"Did you have fun?" with your eyes finally open, you finally see Soap holding the glass, Price sitting on the coffee table behind him, Gaz leaning close to your legs and a pair of hands caressing your hair, recognizing Ghost's touch on you, all of them never taking their eyes off you.

You nod in response, too tired to form words. Before you know it, you fall asleep again under their gentle hands, wondering from the back of your mind if it would happen again. Surely you wouldn't mind.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #john price #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 smut #141 x reader

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luxtrys · 11 months

Text

uggghhhhhhh putting a face mask on ani fucking getss me.

he was sitting on your vanity chair, resting against your fluffy white blanket that was draped over the back of it. he insisted that if he was going to let you put a face mask on him that he needed to be as close to you as he could.

so, thats how you ended up with your face inches away from your boyfriend, your legs straddling his body as he looked up at you dazed.

"ani, stop moving. i'm gonna mess it up!" you voiced as he kept wriggling under you while you were painting the clay green tea mask over his forehead "yeah? can't help what you do to me baby, sitting on top of me like this" the smirk ever so present on his face. "you asked me to!" you unintentionally raised your hips as you whined, slamming back down on him unknowingly in frustration.

anakin let out a hearty groan, quickly grabbing your hips to halt your actions. "angel, if you really want to finish this mask thing, then you're gonna have to stop moving on me like that" you looked down at him, the contact with his only boxer clad crotch finally getting to you as you nodded. he watched intently at the way your eyes were now glazed over, how hard you were gripping the brush you used to apply the face mask with and how your hips were involuntary shifting above him.

he took this as his chance, slowly entering his ring and pointer finger in his mouth and getting them wet. you didn't notice this though, to busy with distracting your self with the mask application so you didn't accidentally grind on top of him more.

he slowly brought his hand to the top of your tiny sleeping shorts, little hearts decorating the fabric and a little pink bow resting in the middle of the cream coloured waistband. you were perfect, beautiful, amazing, soft and everything anakin could ever ask for, the mere thought of you could make him bust right there and then. he began to dip his hands into your shorts, inching them closer to your core.

your eyes immediately snapped down to your boyfriends veiny hand making its way to your centre, letting out a shaky breath. "ani, what are you doing?" your voice was nothing louder than a whisper, any louder and you would let a moan slip out of your mouth.

he looked up at you innocently, brushing his unoccupied gloved hand through your hair. "nothin' baby. just keep doin your thing, try not to get any in my eyes, yeah? wouldn't know what i'd do if i couldn't look at your pretty face everyday." you shakily nodded before ani's voice echoed in your head about 'using your words' so you followed in up with a quiet "yes, ani"

"atta' girl" he smirked, before looking down at your shorts again, his fingers now making contact with your heat. he began running his middle finger through your folds as his thumb made its way to your clit.

you gripped the makeup brush with your hand as your knuckles turned white, biting your lip so hard you were scared you were gonna draw blood. as you were running the green paste down his nose, you felt the first finger enter you.

he heard you gasp as he began pumping his finger in and out of your heat, starting slow before speeding up to a ruthless pace. you tried your best to focus on impressing ani with how perfect your mask applications skills were, but the second his second finger entered you, you were done for.

he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, struggling to fit both his fingers into you. "shit baby, you're so fucking tight, pussy gripping my fingers like a fuckin' vice."

you whimpered at his words, finally abandoning the brush as you dug your nails into his shirtless back. he grinned up at you as your head buried into his neck, proud he made you incapable of finishing the task he so did not want you to complete.

"a-ani, g-gonna cum" you moaned "cmon pretty girl, let it all go"

he heard you let out one last gasp before he felt you spasm around his fingers, breathing loudly into his neck. he slowly changed the pace of his fingers, working you through your orgasm before removing his fingers from inside of you.

he chuckled at how dazed you looked from him, rubbing your back with his hand softly.

he took the chance of your tired out state to take a glance at himself in the mirror. "hey! i look like master yoda!" he exclaimed, reaching his finger up to touch the wet light green paste on his face.

"do not talk about yoda after fingering me anakin skywalker."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #star wars imagine #anibear

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virgincels · 5 months

Text

JINGLE BELL COCK !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, uncle/niece incest, somno

notes. MERRY CHRISTMAS!! this is very messy and rushed i haven’t been able to write properly lately so forgive me for the repetitiveness and clunkiness!! ignore typos as always :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated !!! this is reallyyy sloppy and I’m embarrassed so I may go back and delete and rewrite in a few days time 😭

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“Woah,” Leon's knees almost buckle when you barrel into him, “Pumpkin, wow,” He takes you in, settles his hands on your hips, and it might be inappropriate ‘cause your mother glares at him over your shoulder. What did she want him to do? Grab your ass? Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve. Just doesn’t wanna get put on a list of some kind. “You’re so big now.”

“Yeah?” Your cheeks split with a sweet smile, “I missed you, uncle.”

“God, you’re so big I can’t believe it,” He gives you a once over, he’d like to catcall you to show you how he feels, Leon refrains from doing so. “I remember when you were a kid, always sat in my lap ‘n said you wanted to marry me.”

“Awww,” A gloved hand comes to pat his cheek, you take the tip of the fabric between your teeth, taking it off finger by finger, “I can do that again if you’d really like, uncle.” Your nails scratch his scruffy chin, press your finger into the divot he hates so much, then you stare right at it. Don’t look at that, god. Totally messed him over. Shit fucked up his golden ratio.

“What're you lookin’ at, pumpkin?” He shifts from foot to foot, moves his flight bag from one shoulder to the other.

“Just never seen you with a beard,” You shrug, beaming at him once more. Okay, not the chin then, thank fuck. “It’s cute, uncle, makes you look older.” Leon doesn’t know if that’s good or bad, though he feels his spinal disk shrink with each passing second.

You turn on your heels when his sister-in-law, fine as ever, says your name, “We should go before she gets pissy.” You tell him cheekily, taking his hand in yours, and you’re so big now he can’t believe it. A whole lot of tit, hip, and your ass ain’t too shabby either. Leon’s justification is that he’s only a man, can't help himself when he sees a pretty girl, even if said girl is his niece. He’s an honest guy, gotta give his brother props for marrying such a smokeshow, even more credit for knocking her up. ‘Cause she popped out an even hotter girl, younger, brighter, and your tits sit prettier.

Their family stands on crumbling foundations, when he’s around his brother, Leon’s five seconds away from blowing his brains out at any given moment. He doesn’t know why people question his suicidal tendencies, he’s more than willing to show them. Snow crunches under his boots as he navigates the path leading up to the front door. The layer of glossy red paint has chipped away to reveal the mahogany beneath. It’s been that long, huh?

“I’m in college now, I have my licence and everything, uncle, I wanted to visit you in D.C. but I couldn’t get ahold of you,” You chatter to him, tugging at your laces and propping your shoes up on the shelf near the door, make the move to grab his suitcase, but Leon swiftly moves it aside. “I can carry it, I’m a big girl now.”

“No, you’re not,” Leon frowns, to him you’re a baby. An undeveloped prefrontal cortex and a soft spot on the top of your head. Yeah, you got a rack now, sure, he wants to fuck you now - doesn’t change a thing.

“Okay, well did you bring me a present?” You trail after him, and you really are still a baby.

“Yeah, you’re my favourite girl, I bought you lots.” He’s not sure if you’ll like it. Colouring books, dolls, plastic jewellery. He’s a bit of an idiot. Didn’t think about how long it’s been.

“Can I open them now?” You seat yourself next to him on the couch, knee bumping his.

“Later, pumpkin, I promise.”

“I want to transfer to Washington.” Wine trickles over the edge of your cup, Leon soaks it up with a napkin, dabs at your face when a rivulet dribbles down your chin.

His brother’s knocked out in their dad’s old armchair, it’s beyond saving, but he’s cheap. Your mom retired to bed a while back, they argued over something trivial, a cheeseboard or some shit, and with that it leaves the two of you.

“Yeah? You got friends out there or what?”

“No, but you’re there, uncle.” You grin, batting your lashes so pretty he gets without popping a viagra or two. Three. He needs three minimum. “I could come stay with you, right?”

Fuck no, under no circumstance should he be allowed within fifty feet of you. And here Leon is, bumping knees, brushing fingers like you’re lovesick teens on a first date. That’s just not right, is it? He’s a decrepit old man on his way to getting a senior bus pass, and he’s your uncle and all. Can’t really go around popping boners over family members.

“I work too much.” Leon says coolly, sweat dripping from his temple, drumming his fingers against the table. “Hey, you wanna open your presents?”

“Yes!” You nod with wild enthusiasm, like a bobblehead, cute ones you keep on the dashboard. Leon would love to take you home with him, display you on the mantle like a China doll, show you off like some rare artefact. Just can’t, he’d end up doing something awful, peeking in on you showering— or worse he’d start sleepwalking, get into your room- “Go get them then, uncle.”

The paper is pink, the shade you used to adore as a young girl, the colour you’ve since painted over in your room. He got that professionally wrapped, big bow on it and all. Leon’s not good at making things look pretty. It’s easier to assemble a gun than it is to wrap presents. Your name is scrawled on the tag in cursive writing that belongs to none other than Claire, she insisted on doing so, felt inclined after seeing his chicken-scratch.

“It’s for me, you shouldn’t have, uncle!” You snatch it out of his hands, Jesus, had more manners when you were a kid. Once you tear through the paper, you blink down at the plastic princess costume jewellery. Clip-on earrings, fluffy mules that are much too tiny, the whole lot. “Oh, wow, well, it sure is nice.”

“Pumpkin,” Leon starts, “It slipped my mind that you’re a big girl now, I wasn’t thinkin’ and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You placate him with your smile, “I’m just glad you’re here.” Cheesy, still makes him swoon.

“We can go shopping ‘fore I go back, I’ll buy you whatever, yeah?”

“I don’t need that,” You shake your head, eyes flitting from his lower half then to his lips. He’s making shit up in his head now. It’s late, Leon should go to sleep, doesn’t wanna start kissing on you and end up in court. “Oh, you’re going already?”

“I’m tired, pumpkin.” My dick is so hard it’s cutting off all blood flow to my brain, my pants are squeezing it so tight I’m gonna contract sepsis and that shit will fall straight off, I don’t want my dick to fall off, pumpkin, hope you can understand my reasoning. Leon hopes you can see the desperation in his eyes, that you can see the sentiment he’s trying to get across.

The bed creaks with his weight, and it’s the same dusty, bed-bug ridden shit his brother’s had for years. He jerks off, blows his load on his stomach, too worn out to clean it up. Falls asleep with his hand down his pants. Then Leon starts having wet dreams like he’s twenty-one again, of your petal lips, of your hands on his dick, your tits, how your thighs look when you sit. Warmth engulfs his cock, and it’s so real, he’s so sure you’re right there, sucking him off like a good girl. You’re cute like a sex doll, and it’s unfair that he has to put on this uncle act. Used to come natural to him when you were a kid, but it’s just different.

Only when Leon lifts his hand does he come into contact with skin, with hair, and a human. At first, he thinks it’s the dog, one of the three. Then he feels small hands parting his thighs further, the familiarity of your smile warming his skin.

“Pumpkin.” Leon rasps, and it’s not quite warning, just a tone that says keep going, but this is fucked up, doesn’t mean I don’t want it though. He thanks you for making the first move.

You pull off with a wet pop, kissing along his Apollo’s belt. “I want to come to D.C. and stay with you,” You say between fervid kisses, “I want to be with you, uncle, you’re handsome and I like you.” Your confession is feverish, he wonders if you realise the weight of your words. Can’t go around telling lonely old men that you like ‘em.

“I’m your uncle, pumpkin.” Leon states simply, ‘cause he’s an adult and he’s collected, but you can keep pumping his dick like that, he really don’t mind.

“No one would know,” You kiss the sticky tip, pre smeared over your lips like lip gloss, tongue poking out to taste him, dipping into his leaky slit. “I could be your girlfriend.” Leon doesn’t even know you, he knows the little girl you once were.

Leon’s too old for that shit. Girlfriend boyfriend talk. “I’m too old to be dating, pumpkin.” He cradles the back of your head with his calloused hand, guides you to base of his shaft, your tongue tracing the vein that runs along the underside of his cock.

“Yeah, but you’re not too old to marry me, are you?” You’re a clever girl, giving him a cheeky smile as you sit up and clamber into his lap.

“What’s gotten into you, pumpkin?” Don’t stop, pumpkin. Same thing. He hopes his dick says enough, standing proud as you lift your hips, wet hole stretching to accommodate his fat tip. Leon can’t see your face, but he shuts his eyes and thinks about it, how your lips would part so pretty, and you’d toss your head back, sweat making your skin all shiny.

“I just really like you, uncle.” One way ticket out of this shitty town, away from his shitry brother, away from your narc bitch of a mom, free food, free housing - Leon understands your motive. Truly, he does, and he can’t find it in himself to give a damn. If you pretend to love then it matters all the same.

“Okay, then sit on it, pumpkin.” Leon urges, firm hands finding purchase on your hips, forcing you down on his cock till you take all of him to the hilt. The head bumps your cervix, and Leon is in love with you. Thank fuck he came back home, thank god, thank Claire for pushing him to the point of booking a flight. “You wanna marry me?”

“I told you, didn’t I? Promised I was gonna marry you when I was a kid.” You press your tits flush to his chest, lips ghosting Leon’s. “I wanna marry you so bad, uncle, you’re all I want.” And Leon can’t help himself, doesn’t mean to let go so early, the coils of heat in his belly turn searing, and he empties himself into you with a groan. The quiet noise of disappointing you let out as his cock softens inside of you is adorable.

“You gotta get used to that if you marry me, I’m old now.” He strokes your head, holds you tight, refuses to let go now that he’s got you.

“I can deal with it, uncle, as long as I get to be your wife.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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lunargrapejuice · 1 year

Text

thigh riding

diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader | 18+ MINORS DNI

it started out so innocent, as it almost always does; being invited to sit on his lap while he works as a means to simply be close when he had to spend so much of his time away from you; a scooch closer, lifting your head from his shoulder to place a chaste kiss to his defined jaw, take in his handsome visage. and maybe you should have known, should have always known, how utterly irresistible diluc ragnvindr was, how weak you were to your beloved, your one and only but no acknowledgement of it would make it any easier to not indulge in him every moment you could.

one kiss turns to two. a third that draws him from his work, gloved fingers finding themselves gripping your thighs instead of the quill, the hand that’s been resting at your back this entire time slowly collecting your dress in its clench. a fifth that meets the edge of his lips and has him drawing you ever closer, until you’re nearly on top of him, not that either of you mind, not when he had to taste your lips on his own after feeling them so soft, so loving, against his neck.

did you know just how irresistable you were to him as well?

after that, with his tongue tangled with your own, hot and devouring yet so needy and full of adoration, it was only a matter of time before your dress and underswear were discarded while he remaind clothed and you were rocking your hips against his thigh at a quickened pace. his large hands were still gloved you could feel how hot he was through the fabric, gripped your hips and helping guide you across his thigh muscles covered by dark paints now stained with your essesance.

it was hard to catch your breath, hard to think about anything but diluc with your hands lost in his hair, the deep scent of oak barrels, sweet wine and bergamot enveloping you, with the way you passionately kiss one another and how quickly he had built that tightness behind your stomach with just his lips and thighs. the whole world around you was that captivating crimson in the form of glistening ruby orbs, messy locks of hair falling from it’s normal confines, a lovely blush on the tips of his ears when he hears you whimper his name as he presses down on your hips and uses his strength to drag your soaked cunt along his thigh. feeling his cock throb in his slacks at the melody of your tone so desperate for him.

he speeds up his pace, completely and utterly in control of your movements against him and fuck he knew just how to work you, what it took for crystalline tears to cling to your lashes because it’s somehow too much and not enough, on the edge but still felt so far from going to celestia.

“‘luc..” you mewl, needy and breathless. your hands move from his hair to his shoulders and he feels your legs shaking around his. he’s so addicted to the reactions you give him, knowing only he could do this to you and it makes him want to give you more.. more.. “ah~!” you cry out feeling his fingers holding you so tightly there were sure to be bruises later but it wasn’t just their touch that had you losing your composure, it was the way his thigh flexed and bounced to add to your pleasure, the way your clit rubbed directly against his pants and he praised you through it all.

“you’re doing so good for me angel,” diluc coos, deep and vibrating throughout his chest. you look into his eyes, blissful and heavy with lust, feeling your heart burst at the sight of a disheveled master diluc. he kisses you softly, a complete contrast to the way he moved your hips and finally brought you to your high, your walls clenching around nothing, the mark of your juices on dilucs slacks growing and seeping through to wet the skin beneath. “my good girl,” he groans, feeling his cock twitch, leaking precum but still he was focused on you and the way you break in his arms, sensitive and on shaking limbs but still bucking your hips against him.

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr smut #genshin impact smut #diluc smut #genshin smut #🌙moonlight.stories

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rambrandt-the-painter · 1 year

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ID stylized drawing of a grey bunny woman with large curly brown hair, brown eyes, light grey muzzle, and brown splotches all over her body. she wears large square glasses, a green tank crop top with spaghetti straps, orange and pink leggings, a pink artist gloves and her ears are tied up with orange wrapping. While reclining she looks to the right with a blank expression while holding a pen. The background features soft warm colors. there's white blinders blocking a window to the right partially blocking a view of a red sunset behind a tree and the corner of a building. behind the bunny there's a dark grey bookshelf with game cases, dices, an art mannequin, a lamp, some books, a portable game console, and trans and bisexual pride stickers. to the side of the bookshelf there's a painting of the bunny and another cream colored bunny hanging on the wall. below the painting there's a table with an empty plastic cup and a pink laptop. the table has a shelf built in with books and a snail book end. The bunny is sitting on a tan futon with a body pillow and a pink blanket. next to her is a tablet with a drawing of a pony on it. ID end

another finished personal piece

i decided to darken abis fur a little and i like it like this. she's smokey

#art #abi

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smoov-criminal · 2 months

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[ID: two selfies of maja in her new rigid wheelchair. the chair frame is black, and the pushrims, caster bumpers, and removable frame guards are red. there's a smoov attached to the back that's a bit hard to see. the first picture shows the whole chair and maja sitting in it. shes black with long dreadlocks with pink ends. she's wearing a black crop top with a red kieth haring dancing dog figure, green jeans, and combat boots. shes also wearing red black and white gloves and a battle vest with various pins and patches. shes holding the rims and looking forward with a slight smile. the second picture shows maja sitting in the chair from above looking down. a red t4t patch on the vest is visible. her head is cut off a bit and shes sticking her tongue out. /end ID]

im having so much fun actually leaving my house!! it's so nice out today and i get to be outside!!!

also i decorated the back a lil bit :3c

[ID: the back of maja's wheelchair. theres a black patch on the backrest with the words "hands off!" painted in red, and two white hands with red X's over them flank the words on both sides. the push handles have black plaid fabric with silver spikes on it wrapped around them. /end ID]

#mj.face #truly life changing #disabled #cripple punk #cpunk #wheelchair user #you'll never guess what my favorite color is #described

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kitten4sannie · 8 months

Note

Omg congrats on 3k!! I'm so happy for you lovie!!🩷🩷🩷 So this is my first time requesting anything lol so bare with me 🥲 I'd love to see maybe a mean vampire seonghwa? Like mean dom? With all the filth you can add in! Like go crazy lol Again, congrats on 3k!! You deserve all the love and appreciation you get!🩷

🧋🩷

tysmm genesis !! that means a lot coming from you mwah >< <33 omg i’m so happy i can write your first ever request!! mmm filthy mean dom vamp hwa… yes yes, that’s something i can do~ i’ll def go crazyy (go stupid) don’t you worry about that hehe and i alsooo added san in there bc i’m weak kksjs ;;; i hope you enjoy my love 💞

⛧ seance smutfest ⛧

pairing: vampire lord! seonghwa x concubine! fem reader x vampire butler! san

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: mean dom! seonghwa (man’s a psycho fr), mean dom! san (follows his master’s lead <3), bratty sub! reader that fucks around and finds out, threesome elements, light mxm, sir kink, possessiveness, exhibitionism/voyeurism, manhandling, blood play, blood drinking (girlie needs a blood transfusion stat ^^’), biting/marking, pet names/name calling, praise/degradation, dacryphilia, face/pussy slapping, choking, oral (receiving), fingering, brief tit play, hair pulling, overstim, masturbation, cowgirl, creampies, back shots, cum eating

Masterlist

“Pssst,” your roommate murmured, reaching over to gently tug on your nightgown, wanting you to get closer so that you could hear her over the loud, overlapping chatter of the other individuals in your shared bedroom. “Who do you think Lord Park will pick tonight?”

You scooted closer to her, eventually shrugging your shoulders. “Depends on what mood he’s in.”

She shuddered. “I hope he’s not hungry…”

You bit your bottom lip slightly, unconsciously patting the girl’s thigh. “Me and you both.”

She sucked her teeth, about to reply when a soft, though deliberate knocking sound interrupted her, followed by the distinct creaking of the centuries-old door opening just enough for you to see the castle’s chief of staff, Choi San, standing there with a candle in hand.

“Good evening, ladies,” he announced, bowing at the waist, acknowledging a few of your roommate’s replies. “Miss Y/N,” the youthful man addressed you with his usual warm, dimpled smile, idly resting his gloved hand against his coat’s lapel. “Your presence is requested in the Headmaster’s bedroom.”

The once lively room of concubines quieted down, their attention centered on you, a few of them swallowing nervously, despite not even being chosen themselves.

“Oh…right now?” you asked dumbly, playing with one of the ribbons on your nightgown.

The man nodded, taking a step back into the extravagant, dimly lit hallway. “Right now, I’m afraid.”

The girl near you patted your thigh just as you had done to her, making you wonder if she was trying to comfort you or was simply sorry for what you were about to endure at the hands of the Headmaster.

You followed San out into the hallway and began your journey to the grand master bedroom, requiring you to walk down the oddly long corridor and up a velvet trimmed staircase complete with a large painting of a strikingly handsome, forlorn man sitting at the very top, staring you down as you made your way up to it.

“San…” you began, turning to look up at the young vampire, his sharp features illuminated by the melting candle he held inside his gloved hand. “Is the Headmaster…” You bit your lip again, your pulse quickening. “…hungry?”

San’s dark eyes twinkled for a second, before turning into crescent moons, his lips twitching upwards, exposing his elongated fangs. “Oh, Miss Y/N,” he tsked, doing a scan over your body so quickly it almost seemed to happen in your imagination. “You should know by now that Lord Park is always quite famished.”

Seonghwa stood near his bedroom window, gazing out of it as if he were in a trance, his crimson eyes focused on the enormous, glowing moon that sat just above the dark forest below, almost appearing as though it were about to drop out of the sky at any second and destroy everything in its wake. When he heard a knock on one of his grand bedroom doors, he turned around. “Enter.”

“Pardon for the intrusion, my lord, but I’ve come to deliver your entertainment for the night.” San placed a hand on your back, coaxing you into the room.

“Entertainment?” Seonghwa chuckled lightly, taking a few strides in your direction only to tower over you, reaching down to run his fingers through your hair. “I think you meant my meal, did you not?”

“I’d like to see you try,” you muttered, swatting his hand away, making the vampire let out a low growl.

“Dinner and a show, sir,” San corrected himself, giving his Master a small amused smile, about to take his leave when Seonghwa snapped his fingers.

“One that you’ll be the audience for, San.” Quite pleased with himself, Seonghwa grabbed you by the waist and tossed you like a ragdoll onto the bed behind him before you could protest. “Now, sit over there–” He snapped his fingers at San, as he climbed onto you, pinning your flailing arms above your head with ease, smiling at the other vampire. “–and look pretty.”

“Yes, my lord,” San obliged, his dimples on display, sitting down in the large mahogany chair that was positioned near the edge of the bed and smoothing out his tailored coat. He smiled keenly at the sight and smell of your arousal now that Seonghwa’s hand was wrapped around your throat with his thigh shoved in between your legs, your nightgown already torn from your body and tossed onto the carpet below.

“Will you do me a favor and cum so we can get this over with, my lord?” you said as unamused as you could with cold fingers pressing into your throat, blinking up at the stern vampire hovering above you, your brain feeling delightfully dizzy.

Seonghwa leaned in towards you and inhaled the scent of your pleasure, enjoying the way he could feel your pulse racing against his fingers. “Looks like I have to break you all over again, don’t I, sweet thing?” he announced, feeling your heated body shiver against his when he began to grind his knee against your bare cunt, delighted with the slick sounds it was already producing. “You always give me problems, but you love this, don’t you? Getting treated like a little doll made only for me? Just makes you want to cum, doesn’t it?”

You felt Seonghwa’s fingers squeeze tighter around your throat, the deliberate rubbing of his thigh against your exposed clit making it hard for you to think straight. “I’m dryer than ever. There’s no way you’re–aaah–making me cum.”

“Oh, yeah? Watch me,” he whispered against your ear, shifting his fingers downwards just enough to sink his needle-sharp fangs into your neck, slowly gulping down your hot, coursing blood, his hand now cupped against your slippery cunt, your swollen clit rubbing relentlessly against the rough palm of his hand until you inevitably fell apart. Once you went limp underneath him, Seonghwa began to lick at the fresh bite marks he left with his forked tongue, chuckling at the small, withdrawn whimpers you let out when he reeled his hand back and smacked it against your cunt. “Hurts so good, doesn’t it?”

“How does she taste, sir?” San interjected softly, already palming at the growing tent that sat uncomfortably inside his buttoned, tailored pants.

“Delicious as always.” Licking his teeth, Seonghwa slowly climbed off of you and instead positioned you so that you were in his lap with your back to his chest near the edge of the bed, directly facing San. “On your knees, San.”

Within seconds, San was on his knees before the two of you, watering at the mouth. “Now what, sir?”

Seonghwa, who had his mouth latched back onto your neck and his hands exploring the expanse of your naked body, spit the blood out onto you, the three of you watching the crimson careen along your tits and down your middle, until it pooled near your pelvis, dripping onto your throbbing cunt. He bared his fangs at San, whose sharpened eyes were glowing brightly inside the dimly-lit room. “Lick.”

As soon as he got permission, San dove straight into your pussy, lapping at it like it was his life’s mission, collecting the beads of blood in his mouth, along with your wetness when he sucked at your folds and clit, spitting the mess of blood and arousal back onto your cunt, before slurping it all up again.

“Fuck,” you moaned, gripping San’s hair with one hand, encouraging the vampire to shove his tongue into your fluttering hole. You leaned your head back into Seonghwa’s chest, mindlessly grinding your cunt against San’s already messy mouth, your brain and body feeling too fuzzy to focus on anything.

“What a little filthy whore you are,” Seonghwa sighed onto your skin, one hand closing around your blood-covered tit to play with it, the other sliding down the middle of your abdomen until his fingers began to rub your clit in tight circles. “So willing to disobey, but so eager to feel pleasure, even from my own personal advisor. What am I going to do with you?”

You turned your head to look at him, answering snarkily, “Make me cum already.”

“I’ll make you cum, don’t you worry, slut.” Seonghwa bit at your earlobe, sending a few sudden harsh smacks to your clit, rubbing your stinging cunt afterwards, but being careful not to intercept San’s swiping tongue.

It didn’t take long before you were tugging at San’s dark locks and writhing around against Seonghwa’s body, taking a few more smacks to your swollen clit, making you cry out involuntarily.

“Well, would you look at that?” Seonghwa beamed to himself, licking up your release from his fingers. “How does the little whore’s cum taste?”

“Delicious,” San sighed, once he was done drinking up your arousal, licking up your cunt once again, this time continuing upwards to gather the rest of the blood that Seonghwa had spit out onto your body, eventually settling near your chest, taking turns shoving your tits into his mouth.

With his own mouth back on your neck, idly drinking more of your blood, and his fingers still rubbing at your clit, Seonghwa reached around your body to tightly grip San’s hair with his free hand, holding his head still so that he could watch San lick and suck on one of your spit-covered tits, making him groan. “Fuck her with your fingers, San.”

“Right away, sir.” Drool fell from San’s mouth as he pulled away from your chest, eagerly shoving two thick fingers inside your cunt, scissoring them apart just to hear you whine, before steadily fucking you with them.

“Now, stretch her open so I can fit my cock inside.”Seonghwa ran his closed hand up and down his slick cock, looking over your shoulder to watch as your hole swallowed up San’s ring finger.

The feeling of being filled and Seonghwa’s words alone made you tumble over the edge, causing you to toss your head back into Seonghwa’s chest and cry out.

San grunted, thrusting his digits up into you a few more times, your abundant wetness dripping down his veiny forearm and breathless moans leaving him with a satisfied smirk. “She’s ready for you, my lord.”

Whining at the sudden emptiness inside due to San pulling his fingers out, you were instantly gratified when Seonghwa lifted your hips up from behind and brought you down onto him, your cunt swallowing up his large cock inch by inch. “Oh, fuck–”

“God, you always take me so well,” the vampire praised, only waiting until he bottomed out to aggressively snap his hips up into you, forcing you to bounce on his cock, punching short, airy moans out of you with each thrust. “That’s it, that’s it. You’re my perfect little cocksleeve, darling. Fuck, just for me.”

The blood loss mixed with the relentless pleasure completely took over your mind and body at this point, leaving you in a fog. You wouldn’t come back to reality until Seonghwa sent a quick slap to your cheek, urging you to blow a few strands of wet hair out of your line of sight, gazing down at the grunting vampire below you, his fingers now rubbing over your stinging skin.

“Now, now, don’t pass out on me yet, darling,” Seonghwa urged breathlessly, admiring the way you looked on top of him with your nails digging into the flesh of his chest, his hands cemented on your bruising waist, drilling up into your cunt, hitting your g-spot dead on. “I still have more cum to fill you with.”

When more and more spurts of hot, milky liquid coated your inner walls for the nth time, your body felt so incredibly full, so intensely hot that you came again, so hard that you had fallen back into the other vampire’s chest, his soft, wet hair tickling the side of your cheek.

“How many times was that, San? How many times did I make this poor slut cum?” Seonghwa playfully questioned the young man, who was positioned behind you, with his pulsing cock grinding against your ass, currently leaving a few more splashes of cum on your slick skin.

“More times than I can count, sir,” San answered, out of breath, resting his chilled body against your overheated one.

“You hear that, doll? Even my most trusted advisor can’t keep up with the amount of times I’ve made you fall apart on my cock.” Without gaining a response from you, the vampire smacked his hand down against your reddened, used cunt, a few dribbles of cum leaking out down your inner thighs. “Aww, look at you. Poor fucked-out slut can’t even form words anymore.”

“T-too much,” you barely got out with the last of your energy, a tear or two escaping your half-closed eyes, dripping down your flushed cheeks.

Seonghwa scoffed, pressing his thumb roughly against your clit, rubbing it so quickly, your body began to shake. “Oh, is that so? Feels so good, you’re crying for us, hmm?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded your head, sniffling, too blinded by pleasure to be bratty anymore. “It’s all your fault.”

Seonghwa suddenly sat up from his lying position, instead pulling you more into his lap, his cock now thrusting so deep inside you, you were convinced you might actually break. “You asked for this,” he huffed out near your face, taking a second to lick up one of your tears, squeezing and rubbing your puffy clit between two fingers so roughly it sent intense bolts of pleasure through your body. “–so you’re going to take it like the good whore you are, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you gasped out, your voice and body quivering from how hard you were cumming, suddenly getting your hair tugged back by San, his fingers gripping your chin, feeling his snake-like tongue cascade over your face. He licked up each salty tear that left your tired eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry, Miss Y/N…” He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, pleased with the sounds that left your drooling mouth while Seonghwa filled you up with yet another load.

“That’s it, this pussy’s stuffed so full for me now. I bet everyone in the castle will know you’re my own personal cumslut, won’t they?” Seonghwa exhaled, a few thick beads of his cum leaking down the sides of his cock as he pulled out just to watch your hole flutter uselessly around nothing, having to grip his cock and guide it back inside due to how slippery the mess he had made was. “It’s going to be dripping out of you for so long, darling. But, don’t worry, I’ll always be here to fuck it right back in.”

You nodded your head weakly, accepting his fingers into your mouth after he reached down in between your messy bodies, tasting his salty release on his digits, his cock still pulsing inside your hot, cum-filled cunt.

San slowly zeroed in on the way the vampire’s split tongue lapped up the remnants of blood that decorated your bruising, bite-mark ridden neck, asking breathily, “May I have another taste soon, my lord?”

“Of course you may. There’s quite enough for the two of us.” He took your chin in his grip, pressing a kiss against your cheek, just near your mouth, pressing his thumb lightly onto your bottom lip. “Isn’t there, sweet thing?”

“But,” you murmured, giving him puppy-dog eyes, your hand resting over his. “I’ve been good.”

Chuckling lightly, Seonghwa leaned in to give you a chaste kiss, leaving you with a taste of iron, before gently nipping at your bottom lip with his fangs. “Oh, darling.”

Just when you thought he had some warmth left inside his frozen heart, his pupils formed into slits, his voice lowering just enough to send a chill up your spine. “You really thought you would get away just because you finally decided to obey me? Don’t be daft.”

Biting your lip enough to break the skin, you looked at him in silence, fear and arousal coursing through your body as Seonghwa moved down to your neck, hardly reacting when his fangs pierced into you once again, leaving a fiery, burning sensation in its wake.

San watched delightedly from beside you with his hand eagerly stroking his cock, his smile reminiscent of the Cheshire cat’s, knowing the fun they were having was far from over.

Seonghwa pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, your blood slowly dripping past his plump lips and down his chin. He gave you a soft, gentle smile, one that almost eased your rapid heartbeat until he reminded you of your fate yet again, his smile growing wider, his once shiny white teeth now stained with your life source. “I won’t stop until I have all of you, my dear…mind, body, and soul.”

You lowered your head down onto Seonghwa’s shoulder, blocking out the two salacious vampires for a moment in order to realize the extent of your pleasurable predicament. One thing was for certain — you were going to be devoured that night.

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: mentions of characters’ trauma, minor spoilers??? I’ll try and keep them limited

a/n: I’ll try to stay as spoiler free as possible! I loved season 2, some bits were a kinda touch and go, but overall I think they made it really interesting. Also I’m not including Wylan, sorry! I love him but ... I just don’t wanna add him...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: Going along with a plan that Kaz had created, your role was to help the Crows on an extremely difficult heist. But your job somehow ended up being linked with your crush; the very crow that makes your heart flutter. Your persona is their new wife/husband, who has a “rich father”. Meaning that you have to stay in a nearby hotel as a couple on their honeymoon.

𝐊𝐚𝐳

・His faked joyful smile dropped once the bellboy left the room

・Watching him, you saw his calculated movements - the way he rested his cane against the desk, and took two steps to sit down on the bed

・His gloves stayed on as he said, “I’m sorry there’s one bed. Too suspicious otherwise.” Kaz’s tone was even, but it hitched on the word ‘suspicious’.

・You knew Kaz hated physical contact, hells, he hated when someone stood too close

・In that moment, you didn’t know how to respond, surely Kaz, Bastard of the Barrel, wasn’t going to sleep on the floor. The absence of a couch was obvious, and you knew he had to sleep somewhere comfortable because of his leg

“Kaz, I can take the floor. I know physical contact isn’t an easy thing for yo-”

“No, I’m fine.” He cut you off, a sharp look in his eye. You could see that his mind was somewhere else. Somewhere dark.

・The night was awkward to start off with, like two magnets being pulled and pushed apart

・But then you asked about the plan - getting all the details. Well, what you thought were all the details.

・He loosened up when he was able to talk about logical subjects

・Once you realised that, the atmosphere started to ease and you could see Kaz start to relax ... (his version of relaxing)

・With each hour a piece of Kaz’s clothing was taken off. His jacket, his shoes. As if he was slowly getting ready for bed.

・There was always something heavy in the air though, like something was unspoken. It hung like grey clouds, ready to let rain fall

・But time ticked by, and eyes began to feel heavy

・At first you both laid down and kept a pillow between you, but then there was hardly any room to move.

・So you came up with the idea that you could sleep the other way. Instead of your heads at the top of the bed, they now rested on the sides. It meant your feet were dangling off the side, but it gave you and Kaz a lot of room.

“Do not tell anyone about this.”

“Kaz...you know I wouldn’t.”

・His voice was low when he said: “I know.”

・In the morning, when you awoke, Kaz was already awake. Already planning.

“I got you some breakfast.”

𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐣

・It was you who said you would sleep elsewhere.

・You were so close to falling in love with Inej, and she had no clue. The sore joke was that she felt the exact same. And neither of you thought the other even cared.

“It would be too obvious if we weren’t sleeping in the same bed. I have a feeling they’re already suspicious of something.”

・Even if that wasn’t the truth, you didn’t care. When was an opportunity like this going to arise?

・Kaz didn’t need either of you tonight, so you were both able to unwind. But past experiences meant neither of you could fully do so unless you were in your trusted homes.

・The room was quite spacious; painted white and pale blue, it felt completely different to hotels in Ketterdam (which were dark, dingy and usually had a weird smell.)

・This one had a balcony that overlooked the famous lake that ran through the clean city

・The bathroom matched the colours of the rest of the room, with a rectangular window that let in the morning light but was high enough that no one would be able to see in.

・It was a gorgeous room; airy, light and inviting. Exacly what you thought a summer holiday would be

“Nina would absolutely love this,” you called from the lounging room. Where stacks of books, games and other various entertaining devices lay.

“I almost feel bad...” Inej trailed off, appearing right behind you (scaring the sh*t out of you).

・There was a wordless conversation between the two of you, where you hinted at sleeping on the lounge. But Inej shook her head.

・Too suspicious. What if they walk in?

・You were glad she was okay with it

・And when the night was late, and you couldn’t stop yawning, Inej laughed and motioned toward the bed

“You don’t snore do you?” You asked, with a wry grin. You knew the Wraith didn’t snore. She barely made a sound during her waking hours.

“Of course I do-” she replied, catching onto the irony

・When you were in bed, Inej faced outward, but for some reason you decided to grasp onto this opportunity

“Inej, why are you a Crow?”

・From then on you kept talking. Face to face, her brown eyes capturing yours.

・You both spoke low, as if someone was trying to hear

・Neither of you wanted to stop talking, or to stop asking the next question. Like either of your lives depended on it, you kept trying to know more.

・It wasn’t until Inej stifled a large yawn that you both decided sleep was needed

・And the next morning, you found yourself in the same position - facing Inej, and she hadn’t moved either. But your hands must have drifted in the night, because they had clasped together

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬

・Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to have the bed. And without a couch in the room, he offers to sleep on the floor - far away from you to be as respectful as possible.

“Don’t be stupid,” you retort, flinging yourself on the bed. You pat the space next to you and he blushes. Deeply.

・The giant of a man moved the bags out of the way and flared his nostrils

“Have we not established a relationship based on trust, dear Helvar?”

・He rolled his eyes at you. An occurance that happened all too often.

・But you knew him. More than he thought you did, however, you were always still blown away by his gentle ways. There wasn’t a time when he didn’t open a door for you, or helped you up or down from high places. But his kindness didn’t stop there

・He always stood in front of you whenever there was danger.

・And made sure you were never left alone in dangerous situations.

・If someone tried anything with you, Matthias was there to step in.

・Jesper started calling him your bodyguard

・And although all these things happen, you still didn’t think Matthias was attracted to you.

・You were never the traditional beauty. So you didn’t think someone like Matthias, who was this godlike man, would ever be interested in you

・And the fact that you were his pretend wife/husband, created endless flutters in your stomach. A feeling that was foreign, until you met Matthias.

“Are you hungry?” Matthias asked, dropping to unzip something from his bag.

“Oh no no, I’m okay-”

“I could hear your stomach rumbling from here.” Matthias grinned, and passed you some dried jerky that he bought from a vendor hours before

・He was always doing things like that. Thinking of you and what you might need...or want.

・You couldn’t help but blush. Even though you tried to keep up your jaunty attitude, you ... couldn’t

・And when he sat on the end of the bed, nibbling on his piece of jerky, and asking about you, your heart was beaming

・After an hour, Matthias still hadn’t moved and you realised you had to tell him what was okay.

“Move up here,” once again you patted the space next to you.

・You had wriggled underneath the blanket and watched Matthias take of his shoes and get into bed

・Your heart was in your throat. A thumping, fluttering mess.

・You started up the conversation, as he turned over to face you

・When your eyes began to droop, and Matthias started mumbling when he spoke, you two fell asleep in the King sized bed.

・You thought you were the first to wake, but you could hear the change in Matthias’ breathing

・However, you tried not to move as well. His strong arms had moved you onto his chest, and there you lay. Your head exactly where his heart was.

・At times you could feel him rub your back and those goddamn tingles never left your body

𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫

・You already know this cheeky motherf*cker is grinning like a chesire cat

“I guess even fate wants us together...”

“If by ‘fate’ you mean Kaz, and by ‘wants us together’ you mean doing our job. Then yeah Jesper, that’s exactly what’s happening.”

・Your exterior was hard, but inside you were melting. Ever since meeting Jesper your insides melted whenever he was near.

・Inside the room, you turned to put your weapons on the bedside table. Twin daggers, your personalised gun, a small knife you always kept in your boot (you put that one underneath your pillow) and small hatchet that you usually kept on your back.

“There’s something quite comedic about this-” Jesper said, with his legs up on the bed, boots gleaming, and his arms around his head.

“If you don’t take your goddamn shoes off the bed-” you countered, with a small fury.

“Ooh, yes boss,” Jesper complied with a grin.

・It was a battle, trying to keep that stupid smile off your face. Somehow Jesper was always able to bring it out

・You didn’t have ocd, but you did have problems with outside clothes coming into contact with inside items. Jesper was used to the Ketterdam life, so keeping things clean was always difficult.

・The room was cosy, and a fire was lit. A steady flame burned while you and Jesper talked about your next actions.

・But somehow the conversation took a turn and you were talking about yourselves, your backgrounds and lives.

・Time flew by as you spoke, and soon night turned into day.

・The once roaring fire had dwindled into ashes and it wasn’t until Jesper yawned that you realised.

・You were going to shout obscenities but there was a knock at the door

“Did we just...?”

“Yeah! Sh*t, Fuc-”

“Wake up call!”

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚

・She gave a hearty laugh before looking at you with a sly grin. But her attention was grabbed by the food menu

“Ooh, I hope they have waffles...”

・Completely unbothered by having to share a bed with you

・Behind her bravado is a heart that has been captured by you. She’s just very good at hiding it.

・You, on the other hand, are a bit more quiet. Well, anyone is quiet compared to Nina (with the exception of Jesper).

・So you are a bit hesitant when it comes to showing emotions. Especially since you’re afraid of seeming weird. Growing up, you had heard that word to describe you many times

“We don’t have to share a bed, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” Nina says after a heavy silence. Her eyes flick toward you, a half grin appearing on her face. It was almost ... sad?

・You shake your head, “no no, it’s fine.” Inside you are DYING. Nina?? Sad??? You would burn the world to the ground before you made her sad.

・Perking up (slightly, as she’s never truly sad), Nina moves through the room, looking at all the objects and items. Scowling at the lack of entertainment.

“Really, Kaz could have picked a nicer place...”

・Pulling out a waffle that you had saved from breakfast earlier, you turned around and held it high in the air.

“I have saved thy favourite snack. Please take this as a token of my friendship,” you bowed slightly and waited for her reaction.

・Nina bowed low in response, a large grin on her pale face.

“I accept thy token, with immense gratitude.”

・But the act was quickly forgotten about as she squealed and ran over to you.

・ “I don’t know how well it’s going to taste...” You mumbled, showing the crumbled waffle.

・Nevertheless, you were now her favourite person.

・And the night was one you would always remember

・Like a sleepover with your best friend, you felt like you had known Nina since childhood

・The next morning, you were the first to wake.

・Tangled together Nina’s arms were firmly wrapped around you, snuggling her form closer to yours.

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