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neet-elite · 28 days

Note

hi, could you write something about sam and sebastian hanging out with a shy naive reader who casually mentions that she's never even kissed anyone, let alone have sex before and they offer to help her out but instead take advantage of her until she's a crying, overstimulated mess? -🌸 (if this emoji is claimed i can change it)

Dummy — (SDV) Sam + Sebastian

Pairing: Sebastian / F!Reader / Sam Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 12,688 Warnings: virgin reader, threesome, dubcon, victim blaming, manipulation, lots of kissing, saliva, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play/sucking, praise, overstimulation, creampie, just the tip, tongue sucking, cervix fucking Synopsis: Him, a threat? No, never, you sweet thing… He’s about to reassure you of just how docile he really is with sugary lies and faux platitudes. But your meek tone effectively shuts him up, and he’d be a fool not to watch you dig your hole even deeper.

“It’s— Um, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything… Right?”

A/N: I took way too long to complete this I'm so sorry... I hope it was worth the wait :D ! ty for the good idea <3

“What do you mean you’ve…”

“Never… Kissed anyone before?”

Doubt drips their words, emphasis pushed onto the offending action of kissing — you’re lying, aren’t you? Because to Sebastian, one of your dearest and closest friends , he can’t imagine a pretty girl like you still yet keeping her kissing virginity for God sake, let alone any kind of virginity! He’s always imagined you must have sneaked off with Alex one late saloon night, and he’s hypothesised with Sam before that maybe you had fooled around with Abigail during a sleepover, or— well, something … Anyone, really. And yet here you were, anxious fingers twiddling tight into sheets while you try to avoid their scepticism laced gaze. A staring contest ensues. Not one formally introduced, but one borne out of disbelief, and in your case: embarrassment. Where Sam begins the questioning, it’s only natural for Sebastian to follow; seeing as how in tune they are with each other. Two twisted peas in a pod, you really shouldn’t have told them that.

Which is why the moment their eyes meet they instinctively understand what must follow your little revelation. Your best kept secret, surely held close to your shy little bunny heart out of fear of judgement, or worse, prey . It’s only natural for them to be curious, right? It’s a big scary world out there, you should be thankful that you only have to face two of them tonight, little prey.

Because that’s what you are at the end of the day, or at least it is when you’re snuggled up securely under Sebastian’s bed sheets. Tugging on the fabric as if doing so would somehow hide your bashful expression from your best friends watchful eyes, but they know you better than that. Just like how they knew what actions you’d take before you took em during the long forgotten about Solarian Chronicles game earlier that night. Whether or not you choose to display your cute rosy cheeks to them was irrelevant; because they knew. They knew you’d regretted the decision to play a friendly round of truth or dare the minute you agreed, and they knew this was too good an opportunity to pass up on tonight. With both his parents out for the evening, and Maru attending an extended trip with the doc out of town… It was a no brainer for Sebastian to have his two best friends stay over for a few nights.

Which is to say… Sam was in on it the whole time, you know? Trapping you in the metaphorical dungeon that is Sebastian’s basement room, cornering you under the guise of some friendly games late at night—which you should know by now is a bad idea, but when he thinks about it, Sebastian decides your naivety is but one of your many charms—however, neither one of them could have ever imagined you’d offer yourself up to them like this on a silver platter. He can tell Sam is just as surprised and eager about your spilled secret as he is given the soft glint in his friends eye, the way Sam’s gaze matches his own half lidded nature as you bury deeper under the sheets in a pitiful attempt to escape some unforeseen instinctual threat.

Him, a threat? No, never , you sweet thing… He’s about to reassure you of just how docile he really is with sugary lies and faux platitudes. But your meek tone effectively shuts him up, and he’d be a fool not to watch you dig your hole even deeper.

“It’s— Um, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything… Right?”

Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl. Unbeknownst to you, both Sam and Sebastian are intricately connected, thinking the exact same disgusting thought the moment you spilled your prized secret. If you haven’t kissed anyone, then… You must be a virgin too, right ? Like, with sex . Cause, despite their previous late night discussions surrounding you, there’s no way you’d have fucked by now given how bashful you are at admitting your untouched lips, and when Sebastian takes a quick glance Sam’s way he recognised the awful smirk his friend is now wearing.

He unknowingly adopts it too.

Because in the midst of your sweet little sniffs and reddened cheeks, they’ve already came to an agreement. An unspoken one, communicated through flickers of vision and a previous shared longing to have you where you sit right now. You’ve got no idea just how long they’ve wanted you like this, scared and alone, easy to dominate in the dark of the basement. It sounds bad when he puts it like that, but really what he means is: unable to refuse. To confuse and mislead you right into their arms, if that’s what it takes. Which is what it’s come to, seeing as after all this time you’re still a silly little virgin. Poor girl , they’ll fix you tonight.

It’s Sebastian who speaks up first, knowing better than anyone that Sam has a far too easily excitable attitude to approach the tense situation with any tact. Which is what you need before the main event, surely. See, he’s not evil , just a little selfish. He’ll provide you with the comfort you’re obviously seeking, if it means he can get in your pants later tonight.

“No, no,” He coos, standing from his computer chair to stalk over to his bed, gently dropping his weight on the edge of it to sit beside you, remaining cautious not to scare you off with anything other than absolute acceptance. Because deep down he’s thankful , and he’d like to show you just how much. “It’s not a big deal, promise .” A smile follows, meaning well to ease your apparent apprehensions, but he’s not so sure he can hide his deplorable excitement from you well enough, an ache in his cheeks present when he thinks about how hard this must be for you to admit. Which is silly, really, but he can understand why you must be so ashamed when in his company; even if only because he knows himself too well. To combat his worries, he places a friendly open palm where he thinks your hidden thigh must be, and he’s happy to have found it when you lower the bed sheets just a little , enough to give both men purchase into you. His eyes flit to Sam once more, a small narrow to them as a warning. Patience . Do not frighten the poor bunny, okay?

A few rubs up and down and you’re already opening up to them, so easy are you in your innocence. He continues the conversation when it naturally lulls, noticing that you’re clearly shivering with anxiety in the face of their acceptance, and he’s eager to keep whittling down your fight or flight response until you feel safe again; that’s when they can pounce. And really, it’s your own fucking fault for getting yourself into this position, yeah? What girl in their right mind would think anything other than indulgence when her two best friends— who just so happen to be horny men —invite her to a private sleepover? Dummy , you must be wanting this, right? You’re just playing coy, aren’t you? “If anything, it’s kinda cute,” he squeezes at your thigh to reassure, inwardly laughing to himself when you continue to clam up, pretending to be shy when he’s got you all figured out.

Or, the alternative is fine with him too. Maybe you really aren’t aware of your position tonight, left completely blind to the obvious trap orchestrated by himself and Sam. If that were true, then you deserve a sickening reality check anyway. See, either way he holds no guilt. Either you wanted this, or you deserve this. Which makes things easier for him, convincing himself that there’s no harm in pushing if the result is the same.

“Ain’t that right, Sam?”

“Sure is.” Sam grins back at him, wide and unassuming, a friendly face to coax you out of your self imposed shell. It’s Sam’s biggest strength, Sebastian thinks. His childhood friend has always resembled the sun in that way, all smiles and platitudes; exactly what you need tonight. “Been savin’ yourself, or…?”

Fuck , good question. Too wrapped up in his own selfish desires, it hadn’t even occurred to Sebastian that you might be doing just that, awaiting some sort of faux right time before giving yourself away to someone special; but aren’t they special enough for you? Both him and Sam, your bestest of friends, crowding around you so ardently in the relatively open basement room as Sam joins you on the bed, opposite Sebastian, aren’t they your special friends? It couldn’t hurt too much to give them just a taste, right? Just a little, it’s what they’re owed for protecting you for so long. If not them, then who? A bubble of jealousy prompting him into squeezing your thigh once more, the possessiveness in it easily misconstrued as guarding. Would that he could remain in his indulgent dream of corrupting his sweet and innocent little friend, you snap him out of his dirty mind with a docile little head shake, the squeak of your voice drawing him back to reality as you deny them the right of depravity for now.

“N-No, no… Nothing like that… It’s just— Uh, I guess it just never happened? I uh… I dunno why…”

God, the shake in your voice goes right down to Sebastian’s cock, and he has to fight the urge to pet at it right in front of you like this. How downright pitiful you sound when elaborating, unsure and cautious, fearful of their judgement even if they’d do no such thing— No, because you’re being such a good girl for them already, you deserve approval in return for your honesty.

“S’all right, I was a late bloomer too, y’know.” Sam snickers, easing what Sebastian assumes is the obvious sexual tension as if it were nothing, watching as Sam leans back against the bed wall as if his cock wasn’t also twitching now that they were so close to you. Closer than ever before, so close that they can fucking smell the desperation coming off of ya. “Think Seb was too, werent’cha?”

It takes Sebastian a moment to register the words sent his way, far too busy wetting his lips to the thought of making you cry to pay attention to the conversation. Cause he could, y’know? He could have made fun of you for still being an untouched virgin, bully you into submission until you’re begging for the sweet release of his fat cock, until you see no other choice than to accept his cruel treatment as forgiveness. But he refrains, his thumb instead smoothing over your blanket covered thighs as the sheets lower further still from your frame, a consistent reminder that his kind treatment is bearing fruit. “Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand, staring off into space only to distract himself from the cute pout of your lips, because if he looks for another fucking second he’s liable to jump you right there and then, biting at his own lips to calm his racing heart in the face of your devout innocence. God he wants to ruin you , corrupt your naive view of the world with his pervert cock and take advantage of your clueless attitude until all you know is him and Sam. It’s what they’re due.

He’s lying, of course. Him and Sam had messed around when they were much younger, exploring their sexual appetites together as a regular occurrence ever since. Fuck, even Abi had joined in every now and then, so he’s surprised to see you so easily accept their lie as truth. He’d assumed Abi had maybe told you about their shared experiences, maybe even invited you on occasions despite you never showing up— but the dumb look you adopt tells him otherwise. Upon hearing Sam’s initial misleading statement, he instinctively knew to lean into it. Butter you up or something, he doesn’t really know. It’s getting difficult for him to reason with himself when your tits are just begging for his lips around them, the barely there tank top you’d decided to wear tonight given his reminder that his room runs hot is just calling to him , leaving him struggling to think straight.

“So uh… Don’t even worry ‘bout it, okay?” He smiles again, cheeks burning from the constant reassurance he’s trying to offer you. It’s the best he can come up with when all his mind can focus on is the swell of your tits and how bad he wants to taste them for the first time in your life.

“Have you done anything ?” Sam is quick to follow up, and Sebastian is happy to have the spotlight off of him for a moment, allowing him to eye up the space between your tits and your shirt, doing his best to remain undetected as he takes a peek down. It’s a bad idea, he knows it is the moment he does it, eyes instinctively rolling to the back of his head with a hushed gasp escaping his open lips. Tight fucking body, fuck — your fault, remember?

Silence befalls the room and he holds his breath, afraid that if he doesn’t then a moan will slip out from how eager he is to have you— been waiting for this exact moment for as long as he can remember. Sam too, honestly; a shared crush that allowed them to work together, a disgusting alliance built purely on a need to claim you as their own. Their best friend. Their innocent little bunny who needs to be bred, yeah? And when he lifts his gaze from your tits to your face for a brief moment, all he can see is how hard you look down, staring the same spot he was with a blush adorning your cheeks. Cute . So fucking pretty that he wants to eat you right up. Quickly gazing at Sam yields the same result, a cocky smirk on his friends face before a fists raises to chew on.

Yeah , Sebastian thinks. Me too.

“Uh… I, well—”

They already have their answer, but it’s so fun making you get all shy like this; the payoff assumedly going to be even sweeter when they eventually coax you out of this timid behaviour. “It’s okay, you know you can always be honest with us, sweetheart.” Sam pouts, finger under your chin to tilt your face up at the sun, and Sebastian doesn’t miss the audible gasp the bold move knocks out of you.

“No. I haven’t, um… Y’know…”

Oh, this is fun.

“Haven’t what?” Sebastian grabs your attention now, repeating Sam’s action but instead directing your vision to him , a soft angel smile on his lips to try and entice you further into him, to force you into saying those dreaded words that you’ve surely spent a lifetime avoiding; but if only you’d admit them, then he’ll reward you nicely. Been so good so far, don’t give up on him now.

“Haven’t… I haven’t uh, had… Sex… Or, really much of anything…” You trail off into soft embarrassed laughter, barely audible over the thump of his own heart, or the sudden shuffle of sheets under Sam’s weight. He’d scold Sam if doing so didn’t immediately give away his own position, and so instead he follows suit. If ya can’t beat em, then join em. Inching closer towards you so that you’re sandwiched between their shoulders, the brush of his hand up and down your thigh surely able to be passed off as a friendly action only, right? And not the lewd action of temptation, a lure to reel you in.

“That’s okay.” He says, more of a whisper than anything, which was an accident at best. Simply stunned by the gift you’ve given them tonight, cock twitching in his pants to be buried inside of you already— show you what you’re missing out on, or maybe, to shamelessly show himself what he could have been fucking years ago. But the way his hushed words catch your attention urges him to continue the soft tone, if only because it distracts you from how horny he is— and nothing has really even happened yet. Embarrassing, but understandable. Any man would surely agree; he’s stuck a gold mine with you tonight, and you know no better than if he were to play the role of the virgin with how hard he’s already gotten at your confessions. “In fact… I’d argue it’s pretty cute.” He repeats himself, unable to conjure up anything more worthwhile saying when he’s focusing so hard on not sticking his dick in you already.

“For sure. Super cute, even.” Sam adds, though his voice is much more boisterous and causes you to shiver against Sebastian, which he happily accepts with an arm wrapped securely around your shoulder.

“Mhm… But, aren’t you at least curious ?” He asks nonchalantly, “About how it feels?”

He can feel you tremble some more, leaning further into him in apprehension. Your hearts probably racing by now, right? Two men leaning against you in a hidden basement up in the mountains. Regardless of the familiarity, even innocent lil you can recognise what that means, surely. Fuck , no one but them would hear you during the night, the thought alone causing his cock to leak some more in his underwear. The implication is right there , sweetheart; and yet he waits patiently for your virgin mind to play catch up to it.

“I mean, a little?” You answer honestly, questioning lilt at the end of your confession as if seeking their approval.

“It’s only natural, after all.” Sam interjects, hand lifted to play with the loose strands of your hair absentmindedly; except it’s not. Not really. In fact, it’s intentional , and Sebastian knows it to be so given the half-lidded nature of Sam’s gaze on your lips. Which, of course, you’ve got no way of witnessing. Your eyes glues to the pattern of Sebastian’s sheets, staring as if they were the most interesting thing in the room right now, instead of the correct answer being that of your admission of want . “We could help, if you wanted.”

Sebastian knows that Sam is only suggesting because this would be a whole lot easier if they made you think that tonight was your idea , rather than a best laid plan of their own. “Yeah, s’not fair that you’ve been left out, right?” He adds on himself, quick and sharp, disallowing you room to think to better their chances of getting lucky tonight. Squeezing your shoulder softly to hopefully coax you out of your understandable anxiety and instead onto your back where you belong.

“Ah, wait!” Your voice is louder than it’s been tonight, panic stricken in the face of their offer. Which Sebastian understands, but still he chews on his bottom lips before he gives into his need to pin you down. Shut you up . “It’s— Wouldn’t that be weird , right?” You laugh, and the sound would be sweet if not for the fact that it was standing in the way of both Sebastian and Sam getting what they so desperately wanted. “I mean— we’re friends . Friends don’t—”

“What, kiss?” Sam scoffs, but his expression remains friendly. Needs to, really. Because despite the assumed shared frustration between them, Sebastian glares at him to keep on your good side. Of course they could take you without much issue, fight back against your retaliations by working together to get you naked, manoeuvring you into whatever position they so please simply because they want to . But, it’s easier this way, no? A little more upfront effort, but the end will be much sweeter. “I mean fuck , me and Seb do it all the time!”

It’s not a lie, but seeing your expression turn to one of shock makes him think that you think it’s a lie, so Sebastian takes the opportunity to swiftly settle the score.

“S’true. Friends can kiss, promise it’s not weird.”

“Really?” You immediately interrogate, head tilted up to properly look at him, and God you’re so cute like this , disbelief lacing your tone even after his confirmation. Are you thinking about them kissing right now? Imagination running wild with what your two best friends must have been up to all this time together? Jealous that you weren’t included?

“Really,” Sebastian’s hand leaves your shoulder to instead gently cup the back of your neck, rubbing up and down your nape in an effort to convince you of his words. “Do you wanna try?” he questions only as a formality. He’d going to kiss you tonight whether you want to or not, but it’s nice to be nice sometimes, y’know?

There’s a pause before you answer, considering your options as they creep closer together. Not enough that you’d notice given how full your empty lil mind is, but the nearer Sebastian gets to you, the more he notices. Your faint scent, how warm your body feels; must be from embarrassment, or perhaps excitement at the prospect of his lips on yours? Fuck , he’s certainly excited himself. Cock leaking beads for you as you make him wait, the hand he has on your neck ever so slightly pinching to get your attention back on him.

“What d’ya say?” he questions when you look up at him, and he has half a mind to immediately lock lips with you to quell his trembling cock, twitching eagerly from how downright dumb you look with those pouty lips and furrowed brows. Too cute — far too cute to be as innocent as you claim, but the quiver in your voice tells him otherwise.

“Um… Only if that’s okay… With both of you, I mean. But just a kiss, okay?”

Got you.

Stupid little mouse, rolling over to show your tummy so easily , even if you can clearly see his salivating open maw. It’s like you want to get eaten alive, not that he’s opposed to the idea. A kiss is all it’s gonna take for them to swallow you whole. After all, you’re just a dumb little mouse . You won’t know any better. But he has experience. He knows how to look after you the way you deserve, in tandem with Sam.

Of which, his friend takes the giddy lead with an excitable “So, who do you want to go first?”

A scolding rests on the tip of Sebastian's tongue, annoyance worming to his stomach in fear of Sam’s nature working against their plans, but when you timidly tug on the sleeve of his hoodie and he sees for the very first time that night genuine worry (or perhaps fear, they’re cousins), he can’t help but extend you a helping hand. And, if he’s honest, he’d really like to go first , acting the saviour to protect you from Sam’s hungry teeth out of selfish desire.

Your bottom lip wobbles before him and he tuts down at you quietly, lovingly. Only Sam can understand the triumph in the click, forcing Sebastian to suppress a laugh at the scowl his friend now wears. He inhales deeply before letting you in on a little secret at your indecision.

“You’re so pretty,” He pauses, waiting to see your bashful cheeks, all red hot thanks to his compliment. Good , you look so cute when awaiting his words. “But you’re so stupid .”

And oh the look you give him was worth the pause. Mouth open for him to instinctively stick his fingers into, your pretty eyes wide at his intrusion for him to admire. The first thing he notices is how your tongue is so soft , unexplored for him to take advantage of with his sweat soaked fingers. So stupid is right , why would you ever be so surprised at this turn of events? He can only imagine what it’d feel like to have your virgin tongue wrapped around his fat cock, struggling to take his face fucking while your throat closes up due to his rough treatment. Has his cock all hard and needy at just the thought, God he wants to , wants to shove his pervert cock right against your cheeks, smear dirty precum all over your lips like gloss, see how well you cry for him— but a little whimper you gag around his fingers convinces him otherwise. Fuck —

“Sorry—” He laughs, deep and genuine, removing his fingers from your open mouth only to hear you sputter for air. “Didn’t mean to scare ya, promise. It’s just— Ah , you looked too cute, y’know? Couldn’t help myself.” He admits honestly, but the way in which he does so comes across as pandering , another attempt to allude to the fact that this was all your idea, remember? If only you weren’t so pretty.

Alas, with his fingers removed and drying nicely in the cool air of his basement, he cups your cheeks without warning and moves closer, hovering his lips above your own. Teasing his taste, practically smirking against your lips when you openly gasp out for him at the sudden turn of events. A deep inhale later and he recognises familiarity. An insidious kind, burrowing deep to his heart as he looms. “Ready?” he whispers against you, still tenderly touching your cheeks as he dives in before you have a chance to answer. Payback for when you stole his opportunity to talk earlier, he muses to himself. Immediately poking his tongue out, slipping into your wanting mouth just like how your body is asking him to do— a groan escapes him and down your throat. The delicate touch on your cheek grows flat, before quickly moving to the back of your neck to grip . A tether to keep himself controlled as he drips saliva onto your tongue, mindful of the fact that you’ve got no idea what you’re doing, but that’s okay. It’s hot enough just to steal your first kiss from you, you can get better with time. Because this won’t be the last time you taste him, even if you don’t know it yet.

He presses closer against you, pulling away only to slowly push his lips back against yours. A soft smack filling his ears with how wet his tongue has gotten your lips to become. It’s an instinct for his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to himself as he makes out with you. So agonisingly slow that it even teases him, causing his gasps for air to become strained, his muscles to tense in their obsessive grip of your body. As if claiming mine , despite Sam watching the whole ordeal and waiting for his turn like a good dog. He feels you sink into him, reciprocating the kiss with a little more ease now that he’s taught you the proper motions, smiling to himself when you experiment by dragging your tongue against his own; and moaning with you when you let a whimper slip.

The desperate sigh that follows from your kiss bruised lips is almost just as sweet as your whines, prompting him into a wide grin. Saliva stains shining in the dim light of his room as your eyes catch on to where you’ve just explored.

“You’re good at least.” He half lies, rubbing his thumb against your waist to keep you preoccupied while Sam gets into position behind you. Sebastian admires the string of saliva keeping you attached to him in the meantime

It takes you a moment to collect your breath before reply, and he can’t help but smile down at you with adoration at how cute you are when getting taken advantage of. So much so that you play right fucking into it, d ummy . “Really? I mean, are you sure—”

Before finishing your question, Sam has your chin tilted back for your body to follow, landing your back against his chest and ass between his legs. “C’mere, s’my turn.” Is all Sam says before placing his lips on your own too, a greedy growl escaping him at the shared saliva between friends.

Sebastian tilts his head at the way your eyes widen, palm automatically coming into contact with his too hard cock to pet at while you’re being kissed. It’s interesting, really, to see what you look like when enjoying yourself; when you’re being exploited for selfish gain. You’re so pretty when prone, and if he hadn’t just endured your inexperienced kissing then he’d for sure assume you were still lying about being a complete virgin, but the way you clumsily hold on to Sam’s wrist for stability while he far too eagerly kisses you is cute if nothing else. Just like you, skin flushed and eyes squeezed tightly shut, the way you try to keep up with Sam’s agility by way of arching your back— a pretty fucking sight by the way, are you sure you’re actually a virgin? The whiplash you must be experiencing causes his cock to drool under his rough palm, circling the leaking tip to the sight of Sam’s free hand clutching your hair, pushing your face against his own with fervour. “See, told ya.” Sebastian praises you, heart fluttering in his chest when you attempt to respond, but Sam’s tongue is too overpowering. Choking your words before they even have a chance to sound— fuck , that’s so hot. Your gasped mewls and furrowed brows; he can barely stand it. Wants to stick his dick in you already, clawing at the wet fabric of his tight jeans while Sam eats your face.

Maybe he’s a little jealous, especially when he catches a glimpse of your cute tummy laid bare for his eyes to feast on. An immediate suck of air and a roll of his eyes to the back of his skull, hips instinctively rolling against his perverted paw from the tiniest show of skin. God , he’s— no, they’ve got it so bad for you and your stupid virgin mind can’t even begin to comprehend it, can you? How the sight of Sam’s hands travelling up and down your untouched tummy to eventually make groping actions at your chest sets his tummy aflame, equal parts envious and horny, a shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine when you sputter away from Sam’s lips to anxiously ask: “ Wait! Just— aren’t we just kissing, I—”

Too slow , Sam had manoeuvred your face back to his own for more sloppy sounding kisses for Sebastian to jerk his cock to. Silly little girl , it was never just kissing . He remembers how you had asked for that to be the case, but; neither one of them had promised , did they?

While Sam is busy sucking your face, Sebastian decides to indulge a little more in himself. He’d have liked to have taken things slower than his counterpart, but it’s difficult to blame Sam for his excitement when you’re quite literally in his lap; Sebastian knows he’d be unable to control himself if the roles were reversed too. Are you kidding? A pretty little virgin just begging for corruption, unsullied body receptive to their every touch. There’s so much he wants to do to you, yknow. So much he can do to you now that you’re distracted again, unintentionally slutty moans hummed down his friends throat.

First, he tugs his jeans off. Leaves his boxers on for now, it’s more fun that way, right? He crawls closer to you after throwing his clothing to the ground below, tapping on your knees to watch them easily fall apart for him. “ Fuck—” he sighs, slotting himself between your legs. “So easy , you’re trembling.”

Maybe the mention of such startles you, but Sam seems determined to keep sucking on your tongue, strings of saliva caught between his lips and yours, you’ve got no room to do anything else but whine for more. And you’ll get it, fuck you’ll get it, they’re determined now that they’ve had a taste . Moving his hands to either side of you and Sam, making sure to rest the tip of his cock against your still clothed hole, but fuck it already feels good, doesn’t it? To just have it sit there, twitching and drooling all over your clothes as a reminder of what you do to him, of how easily domesticated you are from just one messy kiss. He’d like to have heard your reaction, but there’s pleasure enough to be had in feeling your hips reflexively shift against him, cunt so close, teasing his resolve without even knowing it. A natural born slut, you’re lucky it was your friends that discovered this side of you and not someone more sadistic… As if they weren’t being mean enough themselves, biting on your lip and squeezing at the fat of your thighs.

Having you writhe under him prompts his hips to start moving, gentle rocks back and forth to contrast Sam’s abrasive groping, though Sebastian isn’t complaining when your shirt gets ruthlessly removed and your pretty tits are spilling out from your bra. Makes his head all fuzzy just looking at em, hands finding home on your waist to keep you pinned against his friend while he bucks his tip against your hidden hole. Even this feels too good, doesn’t it? To have all the attention, two hard cocks pressing at both your holes. Bet Sam’s leaking all over himself by now too, dripping onto your ass from how your sensitive body encourages them to continue. See , he thinks, you are asking for it .

“Isn’t this more fun, huh?” He asks, a hint of knowing on his tongue. “Y’sure look like it’s more fun, God — Look at’chu—” He mutters, only because he’s too focused on rocking his cock against your covered slit to have you making more of those pretty sounds you’re echoing into Sam’s mouth, rather than keeping track of exactly what he’s saying. Spilling dirty words for you in abundance as Sam gives you a moments respite, just enough time to undress his lower half. “Are you sure you’re a virgin?” He taunts you from above, knows that you’re too breathless to reply with the drool coating your cheeks. Sam’s always been a messy kisser.

It’s as you’re catching your breath that Sebastian moves you into a different position, growing impatient with Sam when he struggles with his underwear, though thankfully your face is turned from Sam when his cock finally snaps against his tummy. A low thud almost catching your attention, if not for the way Sebastian’s body covers your view as he helps you lay down with your back on his bed. “C’mon, catch your breath, pretty.” He coos at you, all soft and loving despite his degenerate thoughts about how sweet you look when struggling. Practically eye fucking you as his face hovers above you, propping himself into half sitting up to watch the conflict of tonights situation flash across your face. Cute , he mumbles to himself, before his vision drops to your bra and he thinks hot .

While you’re busy trying to ground yourself, Sebastian takes to dancing his fingertips down your chest, ghosting over your tummy, until eventually reaching the band of your bottoms. He pings at them a few times, relishing in the wince you send him each time the fabric smacks against your soft skin. Until eventually, his fingers dig under your clothing to help leverage Sam into hauling them off. So badly does Sebastian want to take a peek, just a small glance down at your panties, selfish desire pooling in his cock as it twitches against your side. But he’s got time, he can take it slow; even if Sam refuses to do so himself.

“I— Wait, please . I need a second before—”

“Aha… Oops .” Sebastian mocks, pressing his fingers against your slit once he feels that Sam has dragged your underwear completely off. Only, he groans with his words too, pained at just how wet your little cunt has already gotten from some light foreplay. Just a little kissing and you’re soaked , you really must be a virgin, right? Oh you sweet thing , if you’re this wet already, then you’ve got no hope of surviving until the end of the night. The thought of which only turns Sebastian on some more, prompting him into matching the rooms state of undress as he lets his cock free with a heavy sigh, incidentally smearing precum all over your bare hips while the pads of his fingers explore your virgin cunt. So fucking hot, holy shit—

“ Relax , baby,” Sebastian isn’t sure if Sam had meant to sound so condescending, but he can’t deny how hot it is to see one of his best friends so dangerously out of control when face to face with your cunt. He takes a look at Sam upon hearing how strained his voice is, and the look of sheer desperation painted on his face is enough to convince Seb to start toying with your clit. Little circles, barely there if he’s being honest, but of course it’s enough to get your untouched body reeling . Wiggling and croaking, the feeling of your hand grasping on for dear life onto his shirt only serving to rile him up further, makes him buck his cock against your waist a little more intentional. He can’t stop himself even if he tried, snapping his vision back to you to watch you fall apart on his meagre touch.

If you’re this fun to toy with now, he can hardly wait till he’s got his cock in you. Fat beads of precum leaking all over you as Sam lowers to your cunt level, heart racing in his chest at the prospect of deflowering you in such a nasty way. You can’t even decline their advances, not when Sebastian continues flicking your clit, dragging his fingers down your slit to dip into your heated hole. A gasp escapes him upon coming into contact with your wetness, slick coating his fingers with a gush as he angles his hand downwards; allowing Sam enough room to nose against your puffy clit.

“Fu-uck ,” Sam whines, all broken and needy as he sniffs your slit. “Oh my God ,” He continues, Sebastian taking the opportunity of distraction to start pumping your little hole with a single finger while Sam drools over your cunt with slurred words. Can’t fight back when you’ve lost your voice to moans, can you? “Smell so good— Wanna lick it so bad, fuck , wanna taste you—”

“Go on then.” Sebastian encourages Sam, spreading your cunt open for ease of access, and he’s surprised to hear just how breathless his voice sounds when he’s got you whining into his chest, blushing cheeks buried against his shirt like earlier with his sheets. Can’t get enough of him, can you? Not that he’s doing any better, practically ready to bust just from curling a single finger inside of you, cursing quietly to himself when his flicks earn a full body shiver from you. You’re already so fucking tight, just barely able to take his single finger inside— the thought of having that tightness wrapped around his cock causes him to throw his head back.

And he knows Sam has started lapping at your cunt when you sob into him, soft and pretty cries crooned into bundled shirt. Fuuuuck , he needs you. Needs you so bad that his heart hurts to hear more, arm taut and muscles tight as he focuses on offering you precise flicks of the finger inside of you; gotta stretch you out properly to take his cock, yeah? And oh you’ll look so pretty when stuffed full, won’t you? He hopes you cry when he’s inside too, wrapping an arm under your back to secretly unclip your bra, taking a brief pause in fingering you only to throw it to the side. And when you’re fully exposed he keeps his arm under you, circling it back around to cradle you in his arms— and to be able to grope at your tits a little. He’s so mean , isn’t he? Leveraging your surely confused and vulnerable state against you, selfishly kneading and pinching at your pretty tits. Ah , he takes a quick look at them— or what he can see of them with your body twists to hide against him. It’s a mistake, of fucking course it is , given just how hard his cock already is— because the sight of them rising and falling harshly under his fingertips is almost too much to bare. Almost convinces him to shove Sam out of the way so that he can have you all to himself; that is until you arch towards him and he falls like moth to a lamp into your chest. Gently, mind you, lips latching on to your nipples with hunger . Dizzying desire clouding his judgement when he nips at them a little, growling delight against your tit as praise for taking his abuse so well. The unsure sounds you let out only spur him on to continue, cock tip slipping against your tummy with the amount of pre your coax out of him.

Slurps soon fill the air, mixing perfectly with the sweet squelch of his fingers diving in and out of your tight little cunt. It’s about time he introduces another, right? Otherwise you’ll be forced to take his cock unprepared, and though he intends to deflower you tonight, he’s not so mean as to make it hurt . Sneaking another finger in is easy with a loud suck of your nipples, he hopes to distract you from the stretch despite your telling whines. “ Shh, s’okay. ” He mumbles after popping off your tit for just a second, rubbing his nose against your head to grab your attention. “Doing so well… For a virgin, anyway.” He smiles when you meet his fond gaze.

Sam hums against your cunt and Sebastian matches the sound when he hears your gasp in return, keeping you attention with a nod towards Sam. “Look at ‘im.” He implores you, scissoring his fingers inside of you slowly , almost lazily so that you have more freedom to gawk at how eagerly Sam licks and sucks up and down your cunt. Hell , Sebastian can even feel his tongue run along his fingers at times too, assumedly trying to suck off all of your slick clean from your hole. Greedy , Sebastian thinks to himself. I want a taste too.

He moves with you, peering over to take a look at the mess between your legs, and involuntarily grinds his hips into you at the sight that greets him. How dirty he feels, fingers glistening with your slick, Sam’s face obscured between your folds— but his saliva still stains your thighs. “Shit—” he sighs, suddenly increasing the speed at which his fingers curl inside of you. An increasingly loud squish emanating from your hole with how slippery they’ve got you causes his head to hang low, more focused than ever to have you cum for the first time on his fingers; he’s selfish . Wants that taste of you too.

“ Ah—! No, wait—” you immediately fall back— always with the wait with you, haven’t they proven their worth to you yet? You should trust them to look after you by now, given that Sam’s tongue sucks those pretty high pitched moans out of you, and Sebastian’s fingers fuck silent gasps to crawl up your throat. “Feels— No, ah—! Feels weird!”

“Dummy.” Sebastian lets out a dry snicker, doubling his efforts of making you cum now that he knows you’re close. It’d be laughable knowing how clueless you really were; so much so that you don’t even know what’s happening to you right now, if not for the way he has to physically tense up his whole fucking body so as to not cum with you, excitement shivering down his spine at the prospect of granting you the pleasure of your first proper orgasm. See, isn’t he so nice? Sam too, the way he digs his nails into the fat of your thighs with an iron grip, keeping your cute cunt still for him to service— because that’s what they’re doing right now. They’re servicing you , offering up themselves to you for your own benefit. They’re not taking advantage of anything: you might be a virgin, but you’ve got the body of a slut, your approaching orgasm only serving as further proof of your promiscuity. “You’re close, just give in baby.” He both encourages and clues you in, picking up the pace some more; a brutal speed unbefitting a virgin like you, but the look of sheer enjoyment on your face is inspiration enough to continue. “ C’mon , give it to me, yeah?” his tone is leering , downright insidious with lust, spilling from his lips just like second nature. It’s what ruining filthy virgins like you does to him, apparently. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, jus’ helping a friend out, remember?” Lies . But you’d believe anything coming from his dishonest lips wouldn’t you, especially when you’re on the cusp of something that feels so good , right? Both tongue and fingers coaxing your orgasm out, a few more seconds is all it takes for his eyes to narrow in on your angry expression, cunt quivering around his skilful fingers with plenty grip to leave him just itching to fuck you. And fuck— the sounds you make . High strung and erotic, more so than he’s ever heard you before. Instantly, he registers your moans as addictive. Wanna hear that again, wanna make you sound like that some more, keep gasping our names all pretty like that—

But he’s kind, remember? He wouldn’t be knuckle deep in your pretty little cunt if he wasn’t at least sort of generous, crooking his fingers against your warm insides gently, massaging your walls sympathetically to help you properly ride out your very first orgasm— how cute. How completely adorable it is to be finger fucking you through one of your first naughty experiences ever, and on his bed no less! A memory he’ll keep with him for as long as he lives, if only to bully you about it later down the line. And of course, he can’t forget about the help Sam has offered you, and he wants to make sure you don’t too.

“Look so pretty when cumming, angel.” He coos at you, faux sweet tone hummed against the top of your head as he scissors inside of you two more times before pulling out, not missing the way you involuntarily whine at the loss of fullness. Dirty girl , you’re a quick learner if nothing else. A woman after his own heart. And by that he means; fucking needy . “Say thank you , remember.”

Despite you dazed state, still in the midst of what must be a mind blowing experience, you find the strength to look up at him with a dopey smile that tugs on his heartstrings. “Thank— S-Sam , stop!”

“ Sorry—” Sam heaves, eventually pulling away from your creaming cunt with his tongue still lolled and a face full of shine. Sebastian thinks he’s pretty like that; almost as pretty as you are when you sigh before following orders. Good , he likes them submissive. And from your subservient attitude thus far tonight, he bets you’ll be a good fuck too— in spite of your virgin status. Not for long now if he has anything to do with it. And given how soft and pliable you are in his arms right now, he thinks he’s got more than a fighting chance at claiming you for the very first time; so that no one else can. Well , besides Sammy, but that’s a given.

Sebastian taps your thigh with his cum covered fingers to get your attention again, now that Sam has stopped diverting you with wolfish laps. “You were saying?” He prompts you again, placing a chaste kiss to the top of your head while he idly grabs and tugs at your hip.

“Um— Thank you… For, y’know… All that.” You sheepishly sigh, which can only mean one thing.

Reality is settling, isn’t it? The fact that you friends have just fucked you into submission, tore your first group orgasm out of you without a care in the world. Sebastian wonders about what you must be thinking right now. Do you regret it, or are you just shy? Given the slight tremble still present in your legs as Sam kisses down them, awaiting Sebastian’s instructions, he thinks you must have enjoyed yourself at least. He’s experienced Sam’s tongue enough times to know how deceptively adept he is at using it. But, in the off chance that you might be feeling the beginnings of repentance, Sebastian’s quick to act.

“There’s no need to thank us yet—” He huffs, pulling away from your side only to manhandle you into a different position. You’re still drunk off that high, aren’t you? It’s easy to tell since you’re so easy to move, without a single word he’s able to mould you into shape. “We’re just getting started.”

And there it is. A flicker of recognition in your glassy eyes, the threat of welling tears as you suddenly understand that you had only asked for a kiss; a fairly simple act in and of itself, no? Innocent , even. And yet, despite your utter overstimulation thanks to Sam’s dog like tendencies to lick and lick and lick until the sun comes up, the thought that they have more to show you is overwhelming, isn’t it? Sure looks that way when you scrunch your nose up in confusion, eyes wide at the feeling of his hands ghosting your legs. It’s the cutest look in the world Sebastian thinks, finally tugging at his neglected cock after he’s got you in the perfect missionary position— except your head hangs low over the edge of the bed.

In the spirit of getting rid of your firsts, why not go all the way, right? It’s what Sebastian is thinking anyway as he drips globs of precum down onto your cunt. Accidentally, of course, but the picture is pretty all the same. Like a claim, mine .

The weight of what’s about to come must be heavy on your chest, hypnotising Sebastian as he watches it rise and fall in anticipation. Nobody moves once in position, all awaiting some sort of right moment to get started again— that is until you let out a little squeak. A pitiful sound, one that has his cock all twitchy and drooly.

“I don’t— I thought we were just gonna kiss . I don’t think I’m ready for— Ah! ”

He’s known to have some persuasive hands. Tickling up and down your trembling thighs, eyes trained on the bob of your throat when he inches just a little too close for comfort against your cunt. There’s no need to be shy now, you’ve just covered his sheets in cum.

“C’mon, you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Just the tip wont hurt. Promise we won’t go any further, right Sammy?”

Sam lags behind, catching Sebastian’s eye with a roll of his own, knuckles white where they grip at the edge of the bed— either side of your head. He wonders how Sam must look to you, from your angle where you hang off to stare at him from below. Does he look just as ruined as he does to Sebastian right now? Or maybe all you can see is cock. Heavy and heady, dangling just out of reach from your lips. Do you want a taste? And then, he can only imagine how he himself must look. Red hot cock jerking all over your front, so close he can practically taste your cunt already, experimentally letting his thumb hover close enough to spread your lips apart and— oh , what a pretty girl you are. All nice and wet, puffy little clit just begging for some more stimulation. He can’t hope to hold himself back now, huffing short bursts of air as he teeters on the edge of just shoving it in already , exhaling sharply through his nose like some sort of dog.

“Uh-huh.” Is all Sam offers, and Sebastian gets it. Really, he feels it on some sort of spiritual level. The cockiness to his friends tone, the curt nature of the response. They’re both at their limit, and they’re both seedy little liars who want nothing more than to just fuck you silly. To ruin a pretty virgin like you.

A rather simply ask, no?

“Won’t that… Y’know, hurt or something?” You mumble, shying away further from their faux promise. Sebastian only wishes he could see your expression at the same time as your timid question, he bets you wear worry well.

Regardless, he lines his leaking tip up to your sopping cunt despite your vocalised worries, impatience thick in his selfish action when he tugs at his tip a few times, biting down on his bottom lip so as to not embarrass himself by moaning at the slightest touch. Because he wants to, not even inside of you yet and he’s already close to painting you white. You were responding so well to them earlier, all pretty moans and sighs, so give them what they’re due. It’s only fair, right?

But still, he shrugs. Even if you can’t physically see it, he’s not fully present to provide an attentive answer to your understandable question anyway, easily sliding his tip between your folds slowly . Teasing himself more than anything, rutting himself to the edge just for fun. Because you’re under him, and he wants to. A quick gasp shared among friends at the slippery glide up and down reminds him of your position, jaw tight with barely there restraint as he hisses something, anything through his teeth. Just to get the ball rolling again.

“The tip? No, absolutely not.” How would he know? He’s not the one about to take cock right now. But he’d say just about anything if it meant he got to bury himself deep inside your tight virgin little hole. Not that his answer actually matters with the way Sam’s cock blocks your vision, jerking precum onto your chin just like how his cock hovers nears your hole— you’ll soon have no way your voice concern.

And the sooner that happens the easier for him, looking up at Sam for all but a second before his nails dig into your thighs to pry them open even wider, spurred on by the look of desperation Sam adorns when feeling the heat of your breath brush against his profusely drooling tip. Sebastian’s heavy cock slips and slides between your folds on a whim, his breath hot and fraught with absolute need to steal your virginity away in the worst way possible. But you’re soft, aren’t you? A shy little lamb, ripe for his brutal taking. He panders to you once more, preparing himself for what he assumes will be one of the best experiences of his life. Sullying his best friend— is there anything better?

“Just the tip, okay? You can do that for me, can’t you?” He sighs above you, both in love and frustration. You feel so fucking good already, he fucking hates it. “Promise it won’t go further, just the tip.”

“I— Guys, I’m not sure if I’m ready for this—” Oh, how cute you sound when so scared. It’s okay, he believes in you.

But more than that, Sam is at his limit. A forced groan garbs Sebastian’s attention away from watching his cock almost disappear into your tight hole, finger fucked and stretched for him , but Sam begs for attention.

“Course y’are. Why else would y’be this fuckin’ wet, huh?” He seethes, and the urgency lacing his words just does something to Sebastian’s brain. Short circuits it, forces him to reconcile with the fact that he’s never heard Sam get this agitated during sex before. It’s nice. It’s hot seeing his best friend all worked up like this, watching in slow motion as Sam angles his pretty cock to your lips only to smear precum all over them, a wet gloss coating the lower half of your face due to how much Sam needs you. Can’t you see? Can’t you feel the way Sebastian’s cock begs against your cunt, how your hips wiggle and shift under him as if asking for that which you’re so scared of. Don’t worry, he’ll hold your hand through it. S’not so bad when it happens, you might even enjoy yourself— though that part isn’t necessary.

There’s ought else left to do but join in on the fun, something that takes Sebastian a second to consider as he appears hypnotised by the sight of your lips parting automatically, like your body knows what to do even if you’ve never done it before yourself. A natural born slut , of course you’re going to enjoy yourself. Wet little cunt gushing around his cock before he’s even put it in; you’re pleading to be domesticated, aren’t you? And fuck the sound you make when Sam slyly slips inside of your wanting mouth? All muffled and choked, matching perfectly with Sam’s aggressively relaxed sigh into you.

Without a single thought else, he finally, fuck he’s been waiting so long for this moment, pushes inside of you. Just like he promised, only the tip. But immediately he has to tear his hands away from your thighs and instead plant them at either side of your waist to even hold himself upright, sheer pleasure striking down his spine for him to shiver into you, and then before he has a chance to even adjust to your tight little virgin cunt, he’s already setting a far too unfair pace even for himself to keep up with. Forget just the tip , fuck, are you kidding him? Pure desperation, unadulterated pleasure present in every stroke of his cock inside, fists balled into his sheets below to search for any semblance of control left— but your cunt sucks it out of him, just as well as your hole already sucks him off; you should be thankful he went through the extra effort of prepping you, especially when you’ve offered him your sweet seclusion tonight. And wow... You really must be a virgin from how immediately tight you are, he finds it difficult to fully rock into you until drawing his hips back a few times. He could have easily taken you as soon as you walked in, but fuck if he isn’t happy that he took the time to open you up. Help finger your first orgasm out of you so that you squeeze around his cock that little bit harder from overstimulation now that he’s inside, causing him to moan into the guttural sputters Sam’s face fucking pounds out of you.

He’s sure that if your throat wasn’t currently occupied with cock right now you’d be a whimpering mess for him, hips rolling into you with precision, a practised back and forth along your unkissed walls for him to ruin . Because that’s what he wants to do with you, wants to corrupt you to the point of shame, destroy any hope of you enjoying anyone else in future because no one but him and Sam could ever hope to have you feeling the way you do right now. The perfect mixture of fear and pleasure, unsure of what to focus on more— his balls slapping against your ass to leave a soft plap! sound filling the air, or the taste of Sam’s salty precum dripping down your throat.

He’s thrown out of his indulgent thoughts only because of Sam’s greedy gulps of air, the look of fervour should be illegal on him. “Shouldn’t— Ah, fuck , jus’ like that—” Sam cuts himself off, almost falling into you from how hard he leans over, back bent to better fuck your throat with. “Should you be wearing a— a condom, right?” he finally manages to force out in between humps and moans, but Sebastian doesn’t miss the sick smile Sam wears with his otherwise serious words. The shared understanding going straight to Sebastian’s cock at how mean they’re treating you right now, with no regard for your thoughts or feelings because you just feel that good . Even if he wanted to take you into consideration, every thrust inside of your tight little virgin cunt renders him useless, a mere babble of sighs and groans, emphasising his want for you with cruel humps and grabby hands at your waist. Tugging lightly at your skin for some kind of purchase, because his mind can scarcely keep up with every unfair squeeze your hole wraps around his length.

“Ah, probably—” Sebastian sighs, but there’s no intention behind it. Lazily fucking his cock inside of your almost too tight cunt, the mere thought of pulling out to put on a condom causing his heart to race. His mind to repeat no, no, it feels too good to leave now! “Jus’ a few more seconds, then— Then I will. Promise .” He whispers those last words to you, but you’d never be able to tell by the way he stares at your cunt, eyes trained on where his cock disappears inside; it’s more like he’s talking about you rather than to you.

“She feels— shit , feels so good, doesn’t she?” Sam half laughs, half moans into the feeling of your throat tightening around him at his dirty words. Sebastian can feel it too, the way your hole wraps even snugger, as if you were asking for more.

And it’s not that Sebastian disagrees, but the tight squeeze fit inside honestly just leaves him a little breathless. Brows furrowed in pure concentration not to bust a load inside of you already. He knew you were gonna be tight, but fuck aren’t you taking things a little too far? His hips stutter into you, all precision lost on him when you wriggle around under him, the sight of your hands clawing at Sam’s hips driving him insane with lust pooling in his tummy. Dirty girl , you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

“She’s a tight fuck, God , you gotta feel her, gotta fuck her—” Sebastian rambles, mind almost as much of a mess as his thighs currently are with your sticky slick and the gush of precum that dribbles down your ass to stain his sheets with every shove of his cock inside. Greedy , eager thrusts, fucking himself into a sweat that clumps his hair to his forehead, a few drops trickling down to hit your exposed tummy. Talking about you like you aren’t really there, just a hole to be fucked, an object they have the pleasure of using. And it’s a pleasure indeed, especially when Sebastian rocks his hips so deep into you that his tip kisses your cervix, prompting him to apply more weight to your sides for better leverage. A sharper angle to fuck you in, rough moans crawling up his throat at the gargled sounds you’re forced to make in response to the ruthless throat fucking Sam has you enduring. You look so cute when pliable, tits bouncing for Sebastian to become mesmerised to. He wants em back in his mouth, but he can’t slow his thrusts down enough to latch on.

But above, where Sam and Seb can look at each other, Sebastian notices how little distance is left between them. Both bent over your pretty body, taking what they want from you simply because they can. And in the heat of the moment, after a quick glance at each other, Sebastian’s tongue pokes out for just a second too long before Sam falls further forward, tongues meeting before lips eventually do too. Feeling his friends tongue glide against his own, and then eventually the weight of having his tongue sucked whilst being balls deep in your cunt has his cock throbbing hard, leaking more precum out against your walls to increase the already egregious wet slap of his thrusts. It’s all a bit too much even for him, let alone poor little virgin you, taking it in both holes because you’re in no position to fight back. And that turns him on even more too, openly moaning loud and clear down Sam’s throat while yours is getting fucked, swallowing every drip of saliva and needy groan Sam has to offer him while pinching at your sides for grounding. But it’s useless, isn’t it? With the way your insides squirm around his cock, how tight and taut his balls grow with every slap against your ass, the feeling of one of your hands wrapping so firmly around his wrist, like you’re scared that if you let go you’ll disappear, makes him sigh with adoration.

And he wants to reassure you that in spite of their rather inattentive and immoral actions tonight, they’re thankful to be using you, but Sam has one hand on your throat to feel his length hump up and down it, and the other at the back of Sebastian’s neck, effectively pinning him in position to suck some tongue. Not that he’s complaining, but God , with the way you cunt is forced to stretch to his size, a greedy need to fuck you into the shape of him, to leave your body printed on his sheets for the days to come, selfish desire dribbling from his tip and onto your cervix with every rapid thrust inside— barely able to catch his breath from Sam stealing it, humming between moans shared amongst friends because you feel so fucking good all tight like that, oh my God . It’s too much, he feels so good bullying his cock inside of you again and again, feeling the throb from tip to balls, drooling and trembling over your exposed front thanks to how messy of a kisser Sam is when lost in the feeling of your tongue massaging his length.

And the realisation suddenly hits him as he feels the all too familiar twitch in his cock, tummy doing a little flip as he forcefully removes his lips from Sam to take a sharp intake of air. A gasp, downright dirty in how he chokes on it, followed by a high pitched little whine that he wasn’t aware he could make— the things you do to him .

He’s fucking you . One of his best friends, a filthy little virgin in spite of how expertly your body reacts to his grabs and pulls, his head thrown back in pleasure only to swing the other way to hang low as his thrusts grow sloppier. Less precise and more feeling , unable to keep a consistent rhythm when your body knows exactly how to squeeze him just the way he likes, the puddle of slick and pre collecting under you coaxing him to add to the pile. His heart aches with even more twisted want.

“You’re so good to me—” he practically huffs, annoyance lacing his tone in spite of the otherwise kind compliment. It’s just— Fuck , he can’t focus. So close to the edge due to all your previous teasing, the devious smirk Sam wears when listening to his feminine fucked tone only adding to his frustrations “Best— God , you’re the best friend ever—” he laughs, but it’s all breathless and barely there when suffering the snug fit of your cunt. Like you were made to take his cock; and soon to be Sam’s. Held off just for them, didn’t you pretty girl? With how good you have him feeling, it’s easy for Sebastian to convince himself of such facts. “Just— You’ve jus’ gotta lay there and take it, okay? That’s all— all you’ve gotta do. ” He winces into his words, doing his best to hold off on cumming for just a little longer, burying his bully cock into you just a little deeper. Because despite having the rest of the night to share with you, he’s selfish ; and he doesn’t wanna stop. Not for anything, your cunt is so warm and nice, sucking off his heavy cock so sweetly— the thought of having to stop irks him instantly.

And he doesn’t think you’ll ever quite understand the joy turned lust at taking your virginity like this. How he feels just so special to be treating you like this— knows deep down in the pit of his stomach that Sam will too, especially when enjoying his sloppy seconds he’s about to give you like the nasty man he is. How he can feel your cunt struggle to fit his fat size, fucking your shape into the sheets below, Sam’s hands rough around your throat to really face fuck you now— he must be close. Sebastian can’t blame him, teetering dangerously on the edge himself through sheer willpower alone, he wants to watch you get ruined just as much as he wants to ruin you. Their perfect little princess turned slut, a mess of fluids and dumb brains, he feels lucky to be able to see you like this; even if it’s only because he and Sam have worked together to coax you into the bunny trap they laid out with ill intentions. But can you blame them? Surely not, your cunt doing her best to milk him dry, accepting his full fat length like a good girl . He decides to reward her with lazy pets, inaccurate circles against your clit more as a distraction than anything of substance. A self serving action, playing with you more as a toy than as someone who would like touch; but he doesn’t feel or hear you protesting, quite the opposite really.

Nails clawing on his arms, begging just as much as his cock does when it twitches inside of you. It’s okay, he understands all to well what you’re probably feeling right now; or at least he thinks he does. He can only guess after all. But the way you desperately cling on for dear life, how your legs raise just a little , like you’re trying to get closer to him, or better yet— help him hit that spot inside of you that you must intrinsically understand exists, tells him all he needs to know. You’re close again, and by the looks of things, so is Sam.

It’s your choice at the end of the day. That’s what he’s worked so hard for together with Sam to try and make you feel. If you wanna cum, you will. His thumb drawing sloppy circles against your clit while his cock stutters inside of you, quick snap thrusts to rub his tip across your cervix again. He’s alarmingly close to cumming inside of you already, and he’s got no qualms about finishing before you have the chance. Though embarrassingly, Sam seems to have beat him on that front. A cough of your name, stuck in his friends throat with a final thrust down your own— surely leaving you suffocating from the amount of cum Sam tends to shoot. Which is hot, Sebastian quickly decides. Balls tightening up at the sound of Sam’s loud whines, the sight of the little bit of cock you weren’t able to swallow pulsing against your tongue doing things to him, God . You’re so hot without even trying, even the little sniffles and wheezes you let out when Sam eventually pulls out of your throat are cute, allowing Sebastian full control of your body which he happily takes within his own two hands.

Now that he has you all to himself, he takes proper hold of your hips and fucks you down , matching his every upwards thrust to leave you squeaking like a fucking toy. So hot, so fucking hot, fuck — he feels dizzy . Particularly when you gasp out a quick feels good, Seb! And he’s got no choice but to hammer into you now. Acting the savage with how fast he fucks into you— Sam has to hold your shoulder weight with how hard he thrusts, practically fucking you off the bed to leave the mattress squeaking just as much as you do.

“ You cant—” he takes a big gulp of air, struggling to keep up with his speed. “Can’t just fucking say that , you’re so fucking hot—” red hot embarrassment rises to his cheeks from how pathetic he sounds, all high and soft, like a bitch in heat. Which is humiliating mostly because he’s supposed to be making you sound like that. “Letting me hit it raw? Fuck , so hot, I—”

He’s close. Thumb thrumming away at your clit out of instinct, begging to feel you cream his cock while he fucks you into the mattress below. And thankfully, it only takes a few more rubs for him to get what he wants— you’re such a good friend, aren’t you? Treating him so well, giving him exactly what he wants when he wants it; such a good little fuck for a virgin .

And while he’d love to praise you to the high heavens for cumming around his cock all sweetly like that, mouth hanging open in a silent sob, a quiet whisper of his name quickly following as your insides grip his cock so tight it’s almost too difficult for him to move— you’ve left him dumb . Rendered stupid inside of your no longer virgin cunt in awe at how fucking good it feels to make you cum. Addictive, almost. Because as soon as he starts spilling inside of you, he already wants to do it again. And again, and again, continuing his thrusting despite your sobs for him to stop out of overstimulation— that’s the best bit, don’t you know? To soak your insides white while you cry all cutely for him, the little sniffles you send his way only prompting more cum to shoot, cock fucking it as deep as possible when his hips refuse to let up. And even when you’ve fully milked him and he knows he’s running empty, he just can’t stop. Gently rolling into you despite how he’s quickly softening, only fully stopping when he inevitably slips out and he can watch his seed ooze out of you like some sort of triumph.

When he does take the time to look at something other than your cunt, he catches sight of how messy you are. From head to toe, a blushing beauty mess thanks to their treatment. It’s a good look, y’know. Has his cock already wanting more, silently trembling against himself while he catches his breath enough to compliment you. “Done so well.” He smiles earnestly, and he means it. You should look like that more often.

“Seriously!” Sam beams, back to his ordinary sunshine self after gaining more time to calm down than you and Sebastian. “Dunno about you, and no offence Seb— But, best fuck of my life.”

Sebastian scoffs at his crass words, despite how true they might be. Which is why he feels there’s no need to verbalise no offence taken , because it’s true. You’re such a good fuck that he can’t give you up, not after having a taste himself. And besides, you seemed to enjoy yourself too, didn’t you? The stupid smile you wear as you come down from your first high, the gentle shake in your legs as you paw at Sebastian to gain his attention.

He tilts his head in your direction, away from the sweet smile Sam wears and down to your just as dulcet tone. “Best— Um, sorry.” You giggle, hiccuping into your words in such a cute manner than he almost wants to choke you. Show you again and again exactly what you do to him, and by extension, Sam. So pretty without even trying, it’s annoying. He loves it. “Best kiss ever, I think.” You manage to get out, and Sebastian can only hang his head low in agreement, a twinge of guilt crawling up his throat.

“In that case…” Sam distracts him, moving to the bed and crawling over beside Sebastian, lightly pushing him out of the way. Sebastian would complain if it were worth the while, but he’s got an idea as to what Sam is about to say already, so he automatically assumes the position at your head: just like where Sam was. “Why stop now?”

#💌mail #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sam smut #sdv sebastian smut #🌸 anon

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irndad · 2 months

Note

if you’re still doing flower prompts i’d love either Rainflower or Purple Lilac with spencer <3

a/n: heyyyy im alive! writing from my trip, love you guys, don't know the wc! flower prompts

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back

It comes on all at once.

Spencer- he’s never been particularly good at knowing when he’s feeling romantic. There wasn’t any experience with it. He knows that he’s hardly anyone’s dream guy- all awkward gangly limbs, too tall and too full of information that no one wanted to hear.

He’s carved out a little corner of the world that he can be seen in, that he can be loved in- but he’s never really been under the notion that someone could want him. Spencer knows that he’s lucky to have even this- to have people that ignite the prickly and irritating parts of himself and love him despite about this. And while he might fantasize, daydream about a life where he can lace his long fingers with those of someone who sees him only in a loving gaze of joy, Spencer knows that he’s not the kind of person that gets that. He’s being rational about it- most days, he’s able to relegate this desire to be filled with fantasy.

Except- something has been up lately.

His best friend is probably the best person that he’s ever met in his life. She’s a consultant with the BAU, and it’s been nice to know her, in so many ways. She’s funny and kind in a way that never seems to have a victim. Spencer is not the kind of person that particularly values physical beauty, but she possesses it in such a large margin that it is difficult to ignore. He’s actually distracted by it sometimes, having to take extra mental attention to her words when all he is drawn to is the lovely curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the both light and heavy weight of her gaze in him. I like when you look at me, he thinks. She never makes him feel small.

When they’d met, he was reluctant to her presence in most regards. Spencer knows that when he is focused, he can be a solitary creature, and that he’s an acquired taste. But she never seemed to need time to acclimate to him. From her first day, she listened to him when he spoke, and god, she squeezed his shoulder when she walked past him.

She never had to try to like him. He was never a concession to her.

This morning, she is late to work. He tries not to time it, but he enjoys the ritual of his mornings far more when he’s with her. He makes her tea and greets her first thing, and she asks about his evening the day prior. He tells her about whatever foreign film or Russian book he read the night before, a little too earnestly. She listens with her lovely doe eyes, sipping slowly as she transitions into her day. It doesn’t feel like patience with her- it feels like she actually cares what he has to say. Their routine is a warm radio crackle of familiarity, his favorite part of his day.

But she’s late today.

When she walks in, she’s a little frazzled and so, so, adorable. She’s in a T-shirt that looks so familiar to him, and a pair of jeans that look lovely on her pretty legs. It’s a pleasure, looking at her. He wish he had more time to do it, wants to leisurely drink in the sight of her like he has all the time in the world, it never feels long enough to look.

Her hair’s frazzled and she’s just about 5 minutes late- Hotch hasn’t even come out of his office yet, but she’s clearly nervous.

“You’re okay,” he hears himself say, as she plunks down her bag on the desk, “I have your tea.”

He doesn’t expect her to look up, but she does. She looks up at him and beams, and Spencer- his heart swells. She grabs the cup, dainty pretty fingers wrapped around the curve of it, and she beams her so-sweet smile at him, and god, his knees might buckle. Has it always been this way?

He drinks in the sight of her, as she runs a hand through her hair in a worried, incredibly endearing gesture. She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. He wonders aimlessly, that she might have been meeting with a man this morning. It might be the explanation for the dishevelment.

The burning bit in his chest this causes is one that lacks explanation. It hurts in a way that he cannot explain- she is not a realistic dream for him to have. It’s not like he’s never thought about the idea of the two of them together. It’s a fleeting thought, like the consideration if your life if you could fly. It’s not a dream that warrants real consideration.

But when their fingers brush, her light touch on his hand, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she wanted him.

“Thank you, Spence,” she says, warm voice dripping with gratitude and something in his heart warms at the nickname, “You’re my hero.”

She takes a sip of it, and closes her eyes in a contemplative, restful moment. It’s unfairly adorable.

He’s never actually thought about it, until this moment. But her beauty transcends just being pure fact, a thing to note about his reality. It would be nice, Spencer thinks. It hits him like a tidal wave, images of her gorgeous laugh washing over him on a Sunday morning, the curve of her cheek, a world where he can hold her by the dip of her waist, where her ever-present kindness meant that she might, could, maybe, love him.

Love him back.

She has whipped cream on her finger. She took the lid of the drink off to have the whipped cream.

He is so, so fucked.

“Have I told you that I love you today, boy-genius?”

Even though she’s kidding, and he stammers out a reply of acknowledgment, it is in this moment he knows, with the certainty of every empirical journal he has ever read.

Spence Reid is hopelessly in love with his best friend, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about that.

It’s still nice to want, though.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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amomentsescape · 2 months

Note

hello! Are you ok?, I hope so ❤️ (by the way, your writing is wonderful)

I would like to make a request for Yandere Slashers with an S/O who is a mermaid, who usually kills people who dare to invade her lakes, and she kills these people by drowning.

(I'm sorry if there are any writing errors, English is not my first language, and I'm writing this using Google translate)

Slashers with Mermaid! Reader

Yandere! Slashers x Reader

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

A/N: I'm doing good, thank you <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, I decided I'm going to remove Lester from the Slasher requests. I'm still very much open to writing for him when specified, but I feel like he doesn't quite fit in with all the other Slashers).

Freddy Krueger

Meeting you was quite literally the best thing to ever happen in his undead life

He likes to team up with you, constantly coming up with different ways you both can contribute to someone's death

You pull them under, and they suddenly wake up in Freddy's world

Your dynamic is pretty ideal too

Whenever you sleep, you can visit him

And he has no issues with popping into your waters just to say hi

He does this quite often, in fact

He is very aware you can take care of yourself, but he still gets worried

You're his

He doesn't trust anyone being around you

Even if your only intention is to kill them immediately

He understands that where you are now is your home, but that won't stop him from doing whatever he can to have you live in his world

He can create the perfect environment for you

Miles and miles of nothing but water if your heart desires

Which hopefully it does

Since he isn't willing to wait much longer

Michael Myers

He never thought creatures like you actually existed

But the moment he saw your strength and darkness, he was immediately drawn in against his better judgment

He visits more often then you think

He's always around, watching

You can feel eyes on you almost 90% of the day, but you never really know where it's coming from

He enjoys watching you swim and just relax

But he especially loves seeing you drag poor souls into the tide with you

There's something so twisted and yet magical about watching you kill

But this fascination is also paired with extreme jealousy

He hates seeing you touch other people

And he almost envies the way they get to be so close to you, even if it means their demise

He hopes to find a way to take you home with him for good one of these times

You told him you loved him, so you'd be happy as long as you're by his side

Right?

Jason Voorhees

Out of all places to meet the love of your life, this one seemed especially unfortunate for Jason

But his feelings for you were strong enough to overrule his fear

He'll sit by the shore with you, hearing you talk and sing old tunes he's never heard before

He loves listening to your stories about the world underneath the current

But this always leaves him with such a deep feeling of sadness

He wants a life where you both can live together and share those memories

But he knows that's nearly impossible

He starts spending more time by the water side than the camp, finding that irresponsible teens like to be by the beach even more than the forest

You lure them in with your beauty and your words, and Jason finishes the job

He'll let you kill too if you really wish to, but he doesn't like the idea of those types of people being so close to you

He barely gets to touch you, so why should they get what he so desperately wants instead?

Thomas Hewitt

In this desert like area of Texas, Thomas has to travel quite far to see you

But the one time he accidentally stumbled upon you, he was smitten

And you surprisingly didn't turn him into another victim like all the others

He was kind to you

And now, he brings you food and stops by as often as he possibly can

You've made him little necklaces out of bones and shells

He wears every single one of them

Your bond only gets stronger each time he comes to see you

But Thomas can only take so much

Why can't you be closer?

He knows the family would love you

And he could make you so happy

His bathtub is big enough for you, he's sure of it

He knows that you won't want to leave your own home for his, but he loves you and knows what will be best for you

He's just got to be patient

Bubba Sawyer

His own family had to go on a search for him after he disappeared for a couple days

But he just couldn't help it

You make him so happy, and the more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to leave your side

He's tried to jump in a few times to be with you, but you always persuade him out of it

He doesn't know how to swim, and you don't want him to end up like everyone else

That's when he decided that the best option would be to create your very own pond in his backyard!

That way, you could be with each other, and he would never have to say goodbye again

He hasn't told you this idea yet, but he's sure you'd be happy with it

This would also keep you from needing to kill anyone else

You're too beautiful to get your hands dirty

And it's unfair that they get to join you in the water when you won't let him do the same

He can make you super happy with his family, he's sure of it

Brahms Heelshire

He hates this dynamic between you two

He wants you at home with him so you can take care of him, and he can keep you away from everyone else

No one should get to touch you or look at you besides him

He's actually tried to drag you out of the water before, but the prospect of accidentally killing you was enough to make him stop

He never knew he could envy a body of water as much as he does

It gets to hold you, touch you, and be with you at all times

He wants that too, so desperately

Because of you, he's gone from house dweller to nature enthusiast in just a matter of days

Even when you think he's at home, he's stalking around, watching you

He insists it's to keep you safe

In fact, you haven't had to drown anyone in quite a while

And you can thank Brahms for that

The moment he sees a single soul in the area, he drags them off and disposes of them before you even have a chance to see them

He wouldn't dare let you touch another being that isn't him

Norman Bates

It honestly took him a really long time to believe that you were even real

He didn't think mermaids or sirens actually existed, so seeing you for the first time made him pinch himself to make sure this wasn't some weird dream

He also took a while to trust you since he didn't want to fall victim to your treacherous waters

But once he realized you were genuine, he dove straight in all at once

He visits you whenever he can for however long he can muster

Someone needs to run the motel, but God he wishes he could be with you 24/7

He's "jokingly" brought up the idea of you staying at the motel in a pool he could install for you

He just wants to keep an eye on you at all times

He constantly dreams of finding a way to make you human so you two can truly be together

Until you have two feet like him, it will never be enough

Billy Loomis

Doesn't tell a single soul about you

Not even Stu

And it's not because he's embarrassed or wants to see other people

He's honestly just scared that others will either think he's insane or try to capture you

Visits you every day and makes sure to pack his swim trunks so he can join you in the water

Constantly admires you and wants to run his hands along your scales

He just thinks you're all around incredible

But he has this hidden level of anger towards the situation

He wants to walk around town with you, show you off

He wants you to join him on his sprees so you can see just how powerful he can be

And he hates the idea of not having eyes on you at all times

He knows you kill anyone who isn't him, but he doesn't want you getting that close to anyone in general

He spends his nights studying ways to get you to live with him

He'll find a way to have you all to himself, even if it ends up being the death of him

Stu Macher

He actually first met you while you were seducing some poor soul to their death

And Stu was immediately enamored

He comes to see you whenever he can

He sometimes spends the weekend camping out along the shore just so he can spend more time with you

He thinks you're beautiful of course, but he can't help but fantasize what it would be like if you were human like him

You two come from very different worlds, but there's nothing that could keep you away from him

He likes to bring up the idea of mermaids and mythical creatures in casual conversations with people

How they react to it will determine whether they make his hit list

He likes to bring you jewelry and pretty objects from his victims, showing you items that you've never seen before

He talks about how one of these days, he's going to have a house built on the shore so he can be with you

And if you argue against it, he will shut down

The pent up frustration of not getting to sleep next to you every night makes his killings more brutal and his fantasies all the more darker

Vincent Sinclair

Every time he comes to see you, he brings a new portrait or wax figure of you that he made

You flood his dreams and his mind 24/7

He honestly thinks he's under some sort of spell

He doesn't mind that you aren't human like him

He's always felt very different from everyone else, so it's nice for him to have someone he relates to

But his jealousy constantly gets the better of him

Anytime you tell him of some poor soul you drowned, he can't help but feel his blood boil

Even if it ends in their death, he hates the idea of you flirting or seducing these people

The only one who should be receiving that attention is him

Barely sleeps at night

He has snuck to the shore countless time without your knowledge, just watching you and making sure your stories line up with what he observes

Is overall obsessed even more than you know

Bo Sinclair

If anyone saw you together, it would be enough to make them blush

The way you two can constantly flirt back and forth without any hesitation is otherworldly

You could have sworn he must have been a creature like you in a past life

He's so touchy when he's with you, not afraid to get his clothes wet in an effort to just be closer to you

He truly makes you feel accepted as you are and with where you live

But little do you know of his darker nature

He stalks the shore and kills off anyone that trespasses before you even have a chance to get to them

He doesn't need you looking at anyone but him

And he's already been renovating an old abandoned pool in Ambrose for you

You're going to finally be living with him like he's always wanted

You don't know this yet, but he's sure you'll be happy with the idea

It will be a great surprise

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writersdrug · 2 months

Text

Nectar and Bane - Pt. 1

Pairings: Hunter!König x Witch!Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: König is hired to hunt down a pesky witch by a warlock, who paints you as the most evil thing in the past three centuries. With the promise of finding true love (or, the closest thing the warlock can offer: a brainwashed woman who is forced to dote on the hunter), König sets out on his journey. However, you aren't what he was expecting at all, and he develops a newfound obsession with making you become his.

Warnings: dubcon, mentions of rape, manipulation, kidnapping, sex pollen (kinda? If you squint? not really, but better safe than sorry), corruption kink, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of consuming human organs, unrequited pining, angst at the end, death (not for main characters), cowgirl, missionary, mating press, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, power imbalance, handjob, obsessive thoughts and behaviour (please let me know if I missed any!)

Notes: thought I'd try my hand a fantasy au version of cod, or at least of König. This is really long (over 15000 words) so I split it into two parts. The next part is pretty much done, I'm just exhausted and wanted to at least crank out half. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt 2!

ps if anyone has any suggestions or tips on how to make collages or banners for fics, pleeeaseeee lmk

translations at the end

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Watch your every step. From the moment you step foot into those woods, you can’t trust anything you see.

That’s what the sorcerer had drilled into his head before he had begun his journey. He called you dangerous, cunning… “A sneaky, meddling bitch…” he had grumbled over the table in that crowded tavern.

Two small pouches, one of silver, one of gold, sat in between the two patrons on the table. Stains of ale and coffee rings littered the unvarnished wood. The wax of the thick candle had trickled down and formed small, hardened pools at the base – its flame flickered weakly, casting unflattering shadows against the man’s weathered features, and making the portentous hood covering König’s face only that much more ominous.

He'd listened warily as the sorcerer described the witch – you. Tens of centuries old, too much knowledge and too little wisdom to use it sensibly. You take whatever you want by whatever means possible, and your favored method was using your physical assets and the promise of sexual devotion to coerce those within your web to do your bidding. “Sometimes it’s for her personal gain – sometimes, she does it for fun.” The warlock added bitterly. “Akin to a serpent, she winds you into her embrace, and then crushes your bones before she swallows you whole, saving your heart for last.” You’d done it to him, ensnaring him into your alluring trap, before stealing his spellbooks, his potions, his most prized collections… and vanishing into thin air.

An enchantress, König had concluded.

The warlock’s request? “Kill her. And be quick with it. The sooner this earth is rid of that swine, the sooner we can all rest. And, better yet – bring me her eyes! Potent things, witches’ eyes can be – of course, that is if they’re still working. If the bitch has gone blind, don’t waste dulling your dagger. A handful of her hair would do just fine.”

König had killed much worse for much less, and this sounded like it would be on the simpler side of things. A few days’ worth of hunting and a quick, efficient kill – hopefully, one of his easier jobs, although with the way the sorcerer described you, that might not be. He’d dealt with magicians before; up until now, they had been rather boring to hunt – tedious, but nonetheless, boring. Most of the time, they tried to end him with some elaborate incantation in the few seconds remaining of their life after he’d ambushed them. His silver blade would be slicing across their throats before they could utter five syllables. They were always so intent on murdering their victims slowly and in a flashy manner. With König’s preference for a more immediate result, he was usually the one collecting the fingernails, teeth, and tongues.

(Over time, he’d had noticed that it was always sorcerers ordering the assassination of other sorcerers. He wondered why they had so much of an issue amongst themselves, but he didn’t question it. Whatever kept him fed and paid for his room, he would do it.)

The picture the warlock was painting of you, however, made you seem much craftier and more calculated. You couldn’t resist the glamorous ways of murder via magic – it was written in your nature as a witch. But you played the game with your charisma and wit, too; something magic users didn’t typically rely on (half of the time, because they weren’t charismatic, nor witty). You waited until your assailant would fall to your wicked charm, before dissecting him like nothing more than a toad for your cauldron. If not an easy kill, you at least sounded like you would be an exciting one – but König knew he could get something more from this client for killing you.

“What more can you offer me?” he asked.

The warlock chuckled. “The gold is insufficient, is it?” he leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell me, what do you desire? Recognition and respect? Revenge against someone who’s crossed you? To bring back a loved one from the dead? Or, perhaps, to find a love of your own?”

König’s shoulders tensed, and the rest of the warlock’s utterances fell on deaf ears. Could he possibly give him a chance to find himself someone to love? Someone that he and only he can worship? It was true that he would be happier to live alone, in whatever way that would allow him to be independent of society… but the thought of being able to live alone with someone, someone who was devoted to him, someone who could decorate his hut with signs of life and warmth, someone with a kind smile and a sweet voice, someone who he could spend hours upon hours with, memorizing each curve of their body, the taste of their nectar on his tongue…

He called it love. Others would call him insane. He’d heard it all before – how no one would ever love him, given his profession, his awkwardness in carrying a conversation about anything normal other than how sharp his knives are, and how he uses them… that, and the fact that he never shows his face (“He must be hideous under there…” they would speculate). Nonetheless, he still craved the devotion of an obedient, warm body waiting for him in his cabin at the end of the day – once he did get a cabin. Why should he be denied what everyone else wants?

He knew he was a hypocrite; he couldn’t expect someone else to be so willing to leave everything and run away with him. Not with his insane ideations and obsessions – hell, not with who he was as a person. But if he killed enough healthy rabbits to keep her fed, and if he fucked her hard enough that her eyes rolled back into her head and she couldn’t muster enough strength to escape the mattress… would she ever care about what kind of man he was?

The warlock smiled slowly. “Of course… that’s what all of you sick bastards want.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If it will seal our contract, I will give you whichever woman you choose. I’ll make her yours, and only yours, with unconditional love – even for your damned soul.”

A fair deal, König had thought. Which is exactly what had him currently trudging through the dense woods, searching for any traces of a witch – a sack with two loaves of bread and some apples hung over his shoulder, along with his well-worn tashka stuffed with the coin he had earned over time. His sword was strapped to his hip in its sheath, his dagger (a short sword, when it was compared to the average person) stuffed into the lead-lined, deerskin sheath on the side of his boot; and a pelt, heavy and thick, hung around his shoulders. All he had to his name.

König had done a day of research on you – testimonies and sightings of you ghosting the perimeter of the woods at an early age, hoping to lure some poor soul away as your very first victim. “I imagine she was a succubus in her previous life,” the warlock had spoken, “maybe too much of a whore for even the devil to handle.”

He had caught you one night by luring you to his cabin with the scent of a savory meal. Guessing by your inexperience, and the way you avoided using words as you snarled and thrashed in the warlock’s grip, he assumed you had not yet reached one hundred years old. You were still young and fresh-faced, appearing no more than twenty to human eyes. “After a few decent meals, and reintroducing her to the work of her past life – she’d settled in as the perfect student. It almost felt like having a pet.” He added with a smug smile.

König questioned how happy you were with being reintroduced to the work of your past, but he didn’t comment on it.

After living with the warlock as his student and whore for a few centuries, you turned into a strong, young witch. You didn’t care to go into town, preferring to stay at the cabin and watch over the brews whenever he had to make deliveries or run to the shops. The warlock had no complaints about your desire to stay holed up in his home – fewer people to ogle at you, fewer glimpses into a more civilized life that might tempt you to run away. He’d much rather you be a brooding, antisocial bitch, than watch one of his clients stare at you with a yellowed, lustful grin, like you were some harlot in the window of a brothel.

On one particular day, without any indication of what you were planning, he had returned home from his rounds to an empty cabin – not just empty of you, but of his potion stock, his rarest ingredients, and his most prized spellbooks. He’d run into the woods in fury, screeching your name and hurling threats into the trees around him – but you were gone. Not a trace of you could be found within a five mile radius of his home.

It was like you had never been there, save the absence of his personal belongings.

In König’s opinion, you didn’t strike him as an extremely dangerous individual. Sure, the warlock had harped on and on about how cunning and deceiving you were – but all you had done was lie to him. And from the way he had described the conditions you were under, König didn’t exactly blame you for running away. Maybe this job was a waste of his time…

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, despite the nip of the mid-autumn air, and the fact that he was embarking on what might be one of the most treacherous endeavors of his career. He was getting a decent payout for it – that is, if he lived to finish the job. Additionally, the scenery was a comfort to his journey; wiry birch trees stood high and thickly clustered, their brown and black spots like ever-watchful eyes, staring at the gargantuan hunter as he moved. Their golden leaves mimicked the light of the sun, the real thing blocked out by the overcast skies. A whisper of wind flew by his ears, carrying down and blowing the leaves further along his path with a gentle sigh. As if nature herself was telling the world to be quiet, be still, and prepare for winter.

It was times like this where König became unsure of himself. What if he hated having someone else to care for? What if, deep down, he preferred the silence and the solitude? But then, the loneliness would strike him. The longing to be understood (if that was humanely possible), and the desire to have something warm, alive, and sentient to acknowledge him. It consumed him on those sleepless nights, perfectly warm by the hearth of whatever inn he resided at, yet so hollow without having someone to wrap his arms around.

A swaying movement in the branches above pulled him from his thoughts. Hanging down by a twine thread, tied to one of the spindling birch branches, was a tiny, burlap pouch. It reached a few feet above König’s head, and was drenched in a dark, thick liquid that dripped rhythmically onto the forest floor. Looking to where the drops landed, he noticed the matter on the ground was decaying – a steaming pile of rot was all that was left of the leaves that were once there.

He frowned. The trap was clever – for a witch in their first century. König had expected something a bit more dangerous for someone your age. Maybe the last hunter had been too gullible, and you stereotyped them to all be oafs. Or, maybe you were too old and couldn’t craft traps with the same skill and precision as your younger self.

He drew his dagger from his boot and quickly sliced the twine thread. The pouch dropped to the floor with a squelch, landing in the very puddle of death it had created. The liquid beneath it bubbled and hissed, and the bag soon dissolved to reveal its contents: bits of bone – a kind of reptilian foot, from the looks of it – dried pomegranate seeds, and a fuzzy layer of mold, all appearing to be drenched in some kind of blood.

He carefully stepped around the stinking mess, his eyes turning back onto the path to continue his hunt. He both hoped for and against finding more evidence of your existence. He wanted to get back to town as soon as he could, so he could hole himself up in an inn until his money began to run out – all the same, his mind craved a puzzle and a chase. Though, with how old you were, he doubted there would be much of a chase.

More leaking, swaying hex bags hung from branches as he trudged on, pointing him in the right direction. He didn’t bother to quiet the sound of the leaves beneath his footsteps – the rustling of the wind through the foliage was doing the job well enough. He held onto his dagger tightly, his other hand on his longsword, as he carefully toed through the dense forest. He had to be close – the smell of fennel and turmeric settled around his presence, along with the babbling of a nearby stream.

The sound of a distant tune danced through the trees. The voice was soft, yet clear, and whoever it belonged too was much too confident that they were alone in these woods. König wondered if it was actually you, and not some poor soul who had been foraging for the autumn mushrooms and berries – but he was nearly a day’s trek into the forest. No one would dare come out this far, unless they wanted to be alone. And, they were potentially hiding from something; their own past, perhaps.

He cautiously followed the sound of the tune, still disguising the sound of his own steps within the rustling leaves and wind. His heart thrummed with both uncertainty and excitement; he always did get too thrilled at the idea of a struggle and blood covering his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, focusing his attention on the voice that carried through the trees, pulling him closer and closer… He gripped his dagger tightly as he crept, reminding himself of the warlock’s warning: cunning, sneaky – be on your best wits.

The voice brought him to the edge of a clearing. The birch trees parted and encircled a few meters of earth, and a few bushes huddled along the far edge, dotted with purplish berries and thorned branches. A wicker basket, woven clumsily and rather lopsided, sat on the ground and caught each berry and branch that was tossed into it. A figure knelt in front of the bushes, carefully plucking the berries with thin, delicate fingers, stained purple from the juice of the berries, and nails that might need a trim soon, unless they were intended to be claws.

The cloaked figure confused König. The voice was too melodic, too clear and fresh for an old witch. He had assumed you weren’t much younger than the warlock, but still old. He remained a few yards away from you, shrouded by the trees and dense foliage outside of the clearing.

It was when you turned your head, dropping your handful of berries into the basket, revealing your face, that he realized how wrong he had been in his assumption.

Your skin was soft, he could tell even with the distance between the two of you. Your lips delicately moved as you sang your tune, your eyes sparkled in contrast to the dull autumn colors that surrounded you. Small wisps of your hair danced around your cheeks as the wind caressed it. Your entire body looked soft, warm, and pliable… exactly what he needed. Craved.

It wasn’t hard for him to imagine it: leaves tangling into your hair as he pressed his fingers around your neck, pushing you to the cold ground and watching as you gasped for air. He’d use his knife, but not to kill you. He’d drag it over your hardened nipples, watching them perk up even more at the prickling sensation, before he’d carve his name into your stomach. Smear your pretty blood all over your pretty face, watch as your eyes widen with horror, as you question how someone can be so deranged and cruel, how he can take so much pleasure in something so vile and horrible-

Or maybe, he could convince you that he just wants a fuck. You looked like you could use one – when was the last time you’d had someone’s lips on your breasts, or their cock in your cunt? It had certainly been too long for him… he couldn’t imagine how long you had gone without being thoroughly ravaged, living in these woods all alone. He could take care of that. He could be gentle, for a little while; holding your wrists above your head as he pushed you against a tree, whispering praise and encouragements into your ear, “… so gut, so Schön, genau so…” taking you from behind as your nipples perked up from the rough texture of the bark, listening to you whine and moan in that sweet voice of yours as he lets out months’ worth of pent up frustration by thrusting his cock into your warm pussy, over and over and over until you scream and tighten around his length, milking the cum right out of him as he fucks you deep, maybe sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck-

He growled quietly, palming his rapidly-growing erection as he tried to clear his head. Stay focused. Kill the witch, and then you’ll get what you want.

Remember the warlock’s promise.

Even if he didn’t need you to satisfy his needs, he could still make this interesting. Not like you could outrun him, anyway.

He stepped into the clearing, and as if by some ironic joke, the wind died down immediately. The crunch of his heavy boots was enough to make his presence known to any living thing within a mile radius.

Your singing stopped. You whipped your head in his direction, and immediately a look of fear fell upon your face. For a moment, the two of you were frozen in a staring contest. You reminded him of a doe, staring at the crossbow of the hunter you had noticed, wondering if this being was actually dangerous, or nothing you needed to worry about. He wondered what he must remind you of, and he wished to hear the panicking thoughts flitting through your mind.

Finally, you broke the trance – you gasped, stumbling backwards and awkwardly standing as you ripped a pathetic, little knife from your boot. You faced him and pointed the knife at him – you held it improperly, and if he truly wanted to make this messy, he could easily make you stab yourself in a struggle. He wondered what it would feel like when your nails dug into his rough skin, dragging marks down his forearms (or his back, if he played his cards right).

You pulled the thick cloak tighter around your body – you were tiny. Well, everything was tiny compared to König. But you were unexpectedly small. With the way the sorcerer had described you, he had expected you to reach his shoulders at least. But there you were, craning your neck to look up at him with fearful, owlish eyes.

“State your business!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly.

König chuckled in response. You really were too pathetic for your own good, weren’t you? He took you in – your lips were pulled into a frown, parted slightly to reveal your perfect teeth, the way the fabric of your cloak quivered where it bunched in your fist… perfectly ordinary things that ordinary people do. But, besides the fact that you were a witch, something about you made it all so captivating.

“Hey!” you shouted, bringing his eyes back to your gaze. Your fear had given way to a judgmental ire. “Gods, have you ever seen a woman before?!”

König scoffed. “Woman? Yes, of course. I’ve seen witches, too. None as young as you, however.”

Your eyes widened in panic once again. You stretched your knife out towards him as he stalked over to where you stood. “S-stay back! I’ll kill you!”

Your meek threat didn’t slow him down. He continued his advance until he had corralled you against a tree, your one hand bracing against the trunk behind you, and the other holding the knife under his ribcage. The only thing between his flesh and your blade was his linen tunic, which wouldn’t do much to protect him should you decide to stab him – but were you capable of that? Your eyes were so filled with fear as they stared at him, your chin to the sky to take all of him in. Your fingers trembled around the handle of your knife as if the prospect of having to nick him made you uneasy.

“Not with magic?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the bush next to you. He plucked one of the berries between his thick, gloved fingers, rolling the onyx sphere between his thumb and middle finger before squashing it.

You pouted (a sight König could never grow tired of). “I’m not a wi-“

He snatched your forearm, and you yelped, dropping the knife to the forest floor. His fingers easily wrapped around you; he wondered how easy it would be to break it.

“Don’t lie, now.” He ordered, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. “You’re not good at it.”

He released your arms with a shove. You scrambled back with a fearful expression, swiping the blade from the ground. He watched with interest as you stood several yards away from him, pointing your weapon towards him once again.

“Fine.” You said, holding yourself a bit taller. “You’re right. What’s the crime in that?”

For a moment, König was lost. Why weren’t you trying to weaponize your magic? It was almost as if you had forgotten you weren’t a human. For someone who was supposed to be a cunning bitch, as the warlock had put it, you weren’t very smart.

“I’m not here for justice.” He replied, wiping his glove on his shirt. “Just doing my job.”

“Hunter?” you asked.

He extended his arms – gods, he could have crushed a pillar between those arms – as if presenting himself to you. “Was it not obvious?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You huffed. “Well, you’re not a very good one. Most hunters don’t make conversation with their prey.”

Prey. He liked that you understood your position, that he was the one in charge here. Maybe you were a clever girl…

“I like to listen to the begging.”

“Begging?”

“For your life.” König folded his arms over his chest, inspecting you closely. The only thing you had to protect yourself was your cloak, and that hardly provided a shield against the wind. Even though you were obviously wary of him, it wasn’t wary enough. You had spoken too many words with the hunter, and had it been anyone else, you might have been dead long before now.

You seemed malleable – book-smart and spitfire, yet all too gullible. Easily manipulated. Just what he needed to brainwash you into loving him. Or, at least, being his pet. You’d never truly love him, he had come to learn that from experience. But maybe, if he could somehow convince you that you needed a big, scary man, who could protect you and fuck you nicely, it would be enough to make you stay. After all, you were too naïve to be alone out here, weren’t you?

Could the warlock perhaps make you his prize? It’d kill two birds with one stone, he could convince you to return whatever knickknacks you had stolen, and your presence would never bother anyone ever again – besides him, but of course, it would never be a bother to bed you every night.

Your expression turned sour. “I don’t beg.”

The tone of your voice sent a shiver down his cock. He’d have to pound that little attitude right out of you.

“Who hired you?” You asked indignantly. The knife in your hand had slowly lowered, now pointing at his feet. Your initial fear seemed to have worn off. Were you brave, or just that stupid?

“It doesn’t matter.” König replied.

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know? How many people have you wronged?”

You scoffed. “I haven’t wronged anyone. People just don’t like it when you call them out on their atrocities.”

König hummed. You had a point. “Your teacher – the warlock.”

For a moment, you scrunched your face in disgust. Teacher. Only a fool as mad as the warlock himself could consider he was any such figure in your life, other than a torturous one. Then, you sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly, the knife now aimed straight at the forest floor. “That old toad can’t even kill me himself…” you muttered. “What payment did he offer you?”

“He promised me anything I desired of your possessions.” König replied, taking note of the change in your presence. He purposely left out the warlock’s promise to find him a “companion.”

“And what would you do with cursed fig seeds, or stag’s blood?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest (which, König noted, framed your breasts perfectly). “I have no gold – not enough to be a reward for the trouble of killing me.”

“He gave me three hundred gold coin, too.”

Your lips turned down into a scowl. “That’s all?! That absolute hypocrite!” You lodged your knife into the tree behind you and placed your hands on your hips. “I took everything from him, save that disgusting old shed he called home, and that’s all he’ll pay to kill me?!”

Your outburst pulled König from his obsessive staring. “You’re… insulted?”

You turned back to him and huffed. “Well, obviously.” You retorted. “I stole all he had to his name, and he treats me like a fly buzzing in his ear. I deserve a bit more recognition than three hundred gold coin.”

“You admit to it, then.” König said, stepping closer. You appeared to be too angry to notice how near the hunter was to you. “You are a thief.”

You laughed – a sound that König did not expect to be so sweet. “I’ve done much worse than thieving, mind you.” You shook your head. “And he’s done even worse to me.” You sighed, pulling the dagger from the tree trunk and sheathing it back into your boot.

Once again, he was reminded of how small you were. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Sure, you had the advantage of magic while he did not, but you weren’t even acting defensively anymore. You treated him like a traveler who had stumbled across your path, starting up conversation and sharing your story.

“What has he done?” he asked, his interest in you growing by the second. An outcast, despised, hated by others. He felt that the two of you were kindred spirits, and he would not risk losing a connection so rare – one he had never felt.

“You mean he didn’t even tell you?” you said, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“He did.” König sheathed his own dagger as a peace offering. “But I’m coming to think he was not entirely truthful.”

You sighed, looking down at your basket, then back at König. “I suppose I could tell you, since he brought you all this way to kill me. Walk with me – but keep your dagger away. And if you try anything, I’ll slit your throat. Understood?”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. Could you even reach his throat? “The warlock said you would lure me away to your hut, and carve out my heart.”

You huffed disappointedly, walking back to the bush near König. Completely calm, like he had only ever come up to you with the intention of finding a friend. “And yet, he’s still alive, after all the chances I had to kill him. We can stay outside of my hut, if it eases your mind. I’ll let you make your own tea, too. But if you aren’t set on killing me right this minute, I really should return to start drying these out.” You held up your basket. “Before too much time passes, and I can no longer use them.”

König had never given his prey more than a few moments to try and beg their way out of his crushing hands. He couldn’t believe he had even given so much lenience to your baseless trust in him – what he should have done was take the opportunity to grab your face and snap your neck. But he was starting to doubt the warlock’s testimony; you were a thief, yes, but had you really committed any crime? Or were you simply just taking the revenge you deserved from your captor – or, as the warlock called himself, your master?

König sighed. He gestured his hand out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You frowned. “First, give me your word.” You demanded.

“I will not harm you.” He said, with a hand over his heart. He didn’t care about forcing you to make the same promise – you were harmless enough. He did, however, make sure to avoid saying that he wouldn’t touch you. Although he was developing a few ounces more of respect for you, who knows? Maybe you would find a reason to drag him into your hut and satisfy both of your needs – and, if he was lucky enough to get that far, maybe you’d offer for him to spend the night in a warm bed, and he could be saved from sleeping on the cold earth for one night.

His word seemed promising enough to you. Threading your arm through the handle of the basket, you began marching through the woods, watching the ground carefully as you stepped over roots and twigs.

König followed by your side, watching you from the corner of his eye. You really were helpless – all it would take is a strong push from him, and you’d be tumbling down, maybe hitting your head on a stone, or rolling down the mountainside until your neck snapped. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, he could easily land one hit to your chest and pierce your lungs with your own ribs. But here you were, worrying more about the uneven forest floor than the lumbering creature by your side.

“What did he tell you?” you asked, pulling him from his fantasies. “About the beginning, when he took me.”

König laughed in pity. “He made it sound like he caught you, not that he took you.”

You sighed. “He didn’t catch me… well, I suppose he did. More like how animals are caught.” You adjusted your grip on the basket, still watching the ground beneath you. “I was the botanist’s assistant before he came along. Stared at me like I was naked. He would come more often than he needed to - asked me where I was from, who my father was – things I didn’t understand why he needed to know. I still don’t.”

König didn’t understand himself. He continued to listen, the sounds of his footsteps drowning out your quiet ones. He began to wonder just how much of the warlock’s testimony was true.

“He came to the shop one night.” You continued to recount the story. “I was lighting the lanterns in the greenhouse. It was storming, and I didn’t hear him. He bludgeoned me and dragged me into the streets like I was some sort of animal.” You paused, turning your own words over in your head. “I suppose I was, to him.

He brought me back to his cabin – that’s when he started the curse. All I remember when waking up is feeling sick. I tried to stand, but it- everything felt heavy, like I was stuck in mud. I managed to crawl outside, and he was there. Saying my father wouldn’t recognize me, that he had killed the old lady at the botanist, that everyone would think that I had killed her… that I would be burned if I returned to the village. That I would forever be an outcast as long as I lived – as a witch. As what he made me.”

You paused again, for longer this time. König looked down at you, observing how your face twisted in… disgust? Anger? Your eyes were somewhere else, possibly somewhere where you could light the world on fire, drain the life from everyone who had ever done you wrong. König had felt that same hatred before, and he had learned to let it pass. You were still stuck there, wishing you could drive a blade into the warlock’s neck – and more.

“You stayed, then?” König asked, returning his gaze to the trees before him. “Why?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I could go anywhere, not during the change. For the first fortnight, I couldn’t do anything but crawl on the ground and wail. And he let me – I’d get to the edge of the woods, and he’d be there to drag me back. Drug me into the hut at night and held me, fucked me, saying he was protecting me and similar bullshit. Of course, he was right; at that moment, I was as good as dead if I had ventured out on my own. And once I’d gotten my strength back, I was still a new witch. I’d never be accepted into the village – witches never are, despite the warlocks being the vile ones – and I had no idea how to live as one. So I relied on him for a while, until I knew enough to make it out on my own.”

König hummed in thought. Despite the initial desire to snatch you himself and have his way with you, his fists clenched at the thought of you being dragged around by the warlock. This life wasn’t one you had chosen, and yet the very person who had forced it upon you was killing you for it. It made something within him boil, something deep and buried, that he had thought had been tucked away for good.

You didn’t deserve any of this. He was fighting with himself in that moment, but the desire to show you what you should have been given was consuming him. He wanted to tell you that he knew what it was to be an outcast, he knew what it was like to feel lonely and crave being alone at the same time. To wish that you had the power to hurt anyone you deemed deserving of it, yet to have that someone who would never hurt you.

He would do it. He would be that person for you, he would be the one to kill for you. He knew he was getting ahead of himself – after all, he was hired to kill, you, not fall for you. And he knew it was just another one of his delusional fantasies… but he couldn’t help himself. You were like him, which was something that he had not yet been able to find. Something primal in him told him to sink his teeth in, to hold onto you until you stopped your struggling and realized that this would be good, for the both of you.

He was insane. But did it matter what he was, as long as he could give you what you needed?

“So, yes-“ you continued, bringing König out from the depths of his thoughts. “- I stole from him. Took the books he used to teach me, maybe a few ingredients for potions, a few seeds to start my own garden… but compared to what he took from me, I might as well have taken a loaf of bread.”

You stopped suddenly, and König came to a halt beside you. You nodded your head to the scene before you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

König looked ahead: the trees parted into another clearing, larger this time. A rickety hut leaned against a wall of rock, made of thin, birch logs and mud slathered on top to keep out the wind. In the center of the clearing was a large stone, positioned near a pile of ash and rocks. A log lay near it, possibly another place for someone to sit. A small garden sat closer to the creek before your hut – it didn’t look to be doing very well, but that was expected as winter approached.

By the creek, there was a large, twisted oak. Its roots hung directly off of the bank and down into the water. Its leaves had fallen to the earth and mingled with the rest of the foliage by now – the entire thing had crimson paths winding around it, hauntingly similar to blood-filled veins. Several pieces of clothing and fabric hung from the branches and swayed in the autumn wind.

As you marched ahead, placing your basket down by the makeshift firepit and disappearing into the hut, König took a few, cautious steps forward. He was both charmed by the simplicity of it, and despondent that you were forced into this lonesome sort of life. He wanted to drag you from this measly hovel and show you something better.

But how? He was no better off than you were. All his earnings were spent on a room at the nearest tavern and a decent amount of ale to help him fall asleep. He never cared about having a home, as long as he had a place to keep out the cold. He didn’t think it would be good enough to drag you back to the village and convince you to spend the night with him in a thin-walled, noisy inn… but, even if he didn’t end up killing you today (something that seemed more and more likely with each passing second), he refused to leave you in this hell. If it was a cozy cabin, built so far away from civilization for the sole purpose of privacy and comfort, he could understand. Maybe even plead his case to you so you would let him stay. But this – this was a last resort. A broken down spot in the woods that you made for your banishment, for hiding. This wouldn’t do.

Call him insane. Call him crazy, hopeless, sick in the head… maybe his desires were founded on the thought that he would give you what he had never received.

You emerged from your hut, the thin, wooden door clanging shut behind you. You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he still standing at the edge? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and made your way over to him, your hair blowing across your face.

He watched as you stopped in front of him, your brow creased with question. Your head tilted back to look up at him, yet any traces of fear that you had shown earlier were gone. You looked at him like you’d known him for the past hundred years. It made his heart ache within his chest.

How could anyone have painted such a wretched picture of the woman who stood before him?

“Is everything alright?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said before, if you’d rather we stay outside-“

König interrupted you, reaching down and grabbing the sides of your arms firmly. You sucked in a breath warily, but you were still not afraid of him.

“I- you-“ Scheisse, what is he trying to say? He wanted to take you away, he wanted to show you how similar the both of you were to each other, he wanted to show you what (he thought) love was – slow, gentle, possessive, and strong. He wanted to keep you in his pocket, both to keep you safe from the world, and to make sure you couldn’t be taken from him. He wanted you, you, you –

This is insanity. He knew it. But that didn’t stop the fire in his chest, and the questionable throbbing in his trousers.

You knew. Your eyes said everything as they softened, as your lips pressed together into a knowing, sad smile. Were you going to turn him down? Would you say that you preferred it this way, that you liked being alone and living like a prisoner on the run? You took his face in his hands, and he had a foreboding sense in his gut that you might tell him to leave.

Quickly but gently, he cupped one hand at the back of your neck and pulled himself down to you, pressing his lips to yours before you could speak. It was only right, he thought, as he held the kiss – you didn’t understand that he could help you, he could build the life you deserved and keep you safe from any other hunters and warlocks. He placed his other hand on your lower back and pulled you in, moving his lips against your own and praying you wouldn’t deny him.

Like an angel answering his prayers, you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes and kissing him back. He tugged his teeth at your bottom lip, and you so graciously allowed his tongue to slip past your teeth, letting him taste you. He whined, flooded with relief that you didn’t try to shove him away and call him deranged.

His cock was quickly growing hard, but he ignored it. Right now, he needed to figure out exactly what he needed to say to make you-

A raven’s call tore through the air, piercing his thoughts. It was much too close than any bird would naturally be.

He tried to turn his head in its direction, but you dug your fingers into his hair, making him stutter and freeze on the spot. He grabbed your hips, about to pry you away-

You pressed your lips firmly to his, and he heard you faintly muttering incoherent words against him. The world around him was suddenly showered with colors: purples like the berries that had stained your fingers, oranges like the leaves that were scattered across the ground, silvers like the thick clouds that blanketed across the sky… The black spots on the birch trees suddenly blinked and flitted across his vision; thousands of them stared at him, and he heard your sweet laughter echoing in the distance as the world spun, spun, spun…

He felt the cold earth press to his cheek, and the last thing he remembered was a sickening ache in his stomach.

He should have heeded the sorcerer’s warning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"… so gut, so Schön, genau so…”

... so good, so beautiful, just like that...

#konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x yn #konig cod #konig fanfiction #fantasy au konig #cod fantasy au #cod x reader #konig x reader smut #konig smut #konig nsfu

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phntmeii · 9 months

Text

♡ Dating Bo and Vincent Sinclair Headcanons:

❝ She always said your talent would make up for what God took away from you. ❝

[SFW Headcanons]

Pairings: Artist!Reader x Vincent Sinclair. FemBimbo!Reader x Bo Sinclair.

Warnings: Slight pervert!Bo Sinclair, Mentions of kidnapping+murders, Manipulation.

A/N: Sinclair Twins are some of my new favs. They are so delectably made I can’t- So here are headcanons BUT with describing what their specific types are instead of keeping it vague. Also, I view Vincent as a selective mute who’s vocal chords are a bit fucked up so he only speaks a few times a day so not a complete mute.

Vincent Headcanons:

✎ Vincent hasn't had any dating experience so much of what he knows is from what Bo has told him which didn't make it interesting in his eyes. But when he sees you, all he wants to do is admire you for whatever reason.

✎ He’d specifically go after you and be the first victim he’d kidnap rather than outright kill.

✎ He tries to convince you he isn’t dangerous (to you) and does little things to prove it. Showing off his drawings, playing music for you, writing notes and letters to you.

✎ Vincent would honestly come off strong because he doesn’t understand how fast or slow a relationship to go. The moment he spotted you, you were already his in his mind.

✎ When you fall for him despite his masked face and silent behaviors, you adjust and get used to him. After all, he wasn’t bad at all. He’d keep you in his room which was tidy and neat as his mother taught him, he’d make sure you were completely taken care of and he was sweet in his little notes.

✎ Vincent’s handwriting is perfect as he was taught to do. His notes would be a little formal but adorable things to find before he slinks away to his studio. “Hello, Y/N. I hope you are adjusting well. :) I wanted to know what foods you like so I can tell Bo to make them. Please write back before lunchtime.”

✎ When he discovers you were an artist as well, he was giddy and excited! Someone who knew what it was like to cycle through ideas and fixate on a project for hours on end.

✎ His few words he’d speak a day would be regarding your own art. No matter what it was, he’d tell Lester to get you the supplies for it and watch over you as you worked.

✎ His ragged and hoarse voice spoken into your ear. “Beautiful…”

✎ He’d randomly gift mini wax sculptures of your favorite animals each week that he worked on between sculptures. Each one better and better than the last.

✎ Vincent thrives on your praise. Sweet boy can’t help but lower his head and blush under his mask at each compliment.

✎ His favorite thing about morning routines were when you’d touch and brush his hair. The massaging at the scalp and tingly feeling he’d get as the brush ran down his black strands felt all too good. He’d also let you do whatever hairstyle you wanted.

✎ Vincent would draw you constantly in his sketchbook. He has pages and pages of different angles of your face, what clothing you wore on a certain day or how you posed during breakfast.

✎ Any and I mean ANY sketches you give him in return? He’s holding onto it like it’s pure gold. He hangs it in his studio where he’s at the most to view it all the time.

✎ Trusts your critiques and observations more than anyone else’s and often asks for your opinion on his pieces.

✎ Doesn’t believe that you like his face without the mask but when he sees you present him with a sketch of his half-mutilated face, he’s stunned. To see him, the truest version of him, as something you deemed worthy to spend time depicting absolutely melts him. He starts to become more willing to remove his mask around you especially if it means he’ll get more drawings like that.

✎ Bo would want so badly to tease Vincent for how he acts around you since Vincent is absolutely infatuated but Bo and Lester find it adorable and are happy Vincent found someone despite everything.

✎ He would definitely want to do those heart hands or hand holding wax molds with you and keep it on his desk.

Bo Headcanons:

> This man’s perfect woman has to be a bimbo, I’m sorry. Someone who is perfectly stupid to overlook some toxic qualities to him and won’t suspect any of his more… violent hobbies.

> Doesn’t have to be the stereotypical busty, all-pink wearing bimbo but just a pretty but airheaded girl.

> He’d originally plan on killing you when you showed up saying your car broke down. You were pretty but so were some other victims who had come through Ambrose. But that dumb factor? Oh, now he’s all in.

> Absolute charmer and reels you in and away from the rest of your group. He’d keep making up reasons as to why you should stay for longer than lie about where your group went.

> He’d keep you sat in the gas station, seeing you so easily entertained. He’d put on that charming smile and tuck your hair behind your ear. “Seems like everyone left you behind, sweetheart. How about you stay jus’ a bit longer, hm? Still need to fix up that car a’ yours, don’t we?”

> He does absolutely use your ditzy and air-headed nature to his advantage to tease because who is he if not a teasing charmer?

> “Aww, sugar, there ain’t much goin’ on in that pretty little head a’ yours, is there?”

> He has purposefully done something to make you trip so he can catch you and make it into a whole romantic scene.

> Absolutely brags to Vincent and Lester about how perfect his girlfriend is.

> He cannot get enough of you at the end of the day. He may have gone into it looking to just use you but consider yourself a charmer as well because he’s soon completely enraptured.

> He enjoys watching you get ready in the morning. Bo will get distracted himself and end up just watch you do your makeup for ten minutes, admiring how pretty you look for him.

> NOTHING BUT PRINCESS TREATMENT!!! He can be toxic and a tease but he likes to be a gentleman too.

> He’s kneeling to put on your shoes on for you, kissing up your leg as he does. He keeps a hand on your back to guide you as you two walk together. Don’t even think about paying for anything because his hand is already in his pocket, ready to pay.

> Bo spoils you rotten. He can’t help it when you smile so sweetly at him that it’s honestly unfair. Sometimes it’s stuff at the store other times it’s stuff he stole from a victim before they met their end. You wouldn’t know, of course, so it’s always a sweet thing.

> If he’s buying you clothes, he’s picking out the tightest options so he can see your body constantly. He’s already turned on constantly by you but he wants to have you all dolled up for him always.

> Although sometimes it can be annoying to have you be so oblivious, he resists any direct insults or rude names since he knows you’ll take it to heart. He never wants to see you upset.

> He knows how much you love his Southern accent and dials it up to 11 with sweet pet names when he needs you for something.

> “Sweetheart, do me a favor an’ pass me the wrench? S’got the blue handle, honey, you know which one.”

> Favorite thing he’s seen you do is when you stole his clothing and became a mini-Bo. Wearing his hat and a jumpsuit all proud of yourself and he couldn’t help but chuckle and claim you should dress like that more often so people know you’re all his.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher fucker #slasher #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slashers x reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair headcanons #bo sinclair headcanons #ugh they’re simply so babygirl i can’t #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you

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ghostboneswrites2 · 29 days

Text

Safer

Summary: After the fall of the prison and a brutal assault, Daryl cares for you.

NOTE (please read): A mutual requested this a while ago. Took a long while to write, and tbh I considered turning the req down given the premise and my firm stance on writing graphic SA which you can find here. However, they explained to me that they are a victim of a violent s*xual assault, and they expressed it would be healing in a way to have a story where they were cared for by their comfort character. After some consideration, I decided to go for it. I'm sure a lot of us have been victimized by people who couldn't control their urges, or those who lacked respect for our boundaries, bodies, and consent. Myself included. So, this story is for us, to those of us that can stomach it.

DISCLAIMER: There are no scenes of graphic SA, only the aftermath. While I will not be telling any descriptive scenarios of being assaulted, I do want to clearly express that this is a generally heavy story and it may not be suitable for all audiences. Please consume responsibly.

**I will not be tagging anyone on the taglist due to the content of this story**

18+MDNI || WARNINGS: non-graphic allusions to SA, violence, mild nudity descriptions, generally heavy content so I can't say it enough: TW!!!

Banners credited on my masterlist!!

Daryl's vision was blurred as he blinked himself to consciousness. It took him some time to gather his thoughts and recognize his surroundings. His wrists and ankles were bound together, his mouth gagged with a cloth that tasted of sweat and filth. He stared up at the treetops towering over him. It was dark outside, save for the dim light of a dying campfire a few feet away. He lifted his head from the forest floor and looked down past his feet. Lumps of sleeping bodies under raggedy blankets and torn sleeping bags rested around him. His heart raced as his memories crept back in; of you, screaming his name, of him fighting off the group of men who caught him off guard, of twigs snapping and a searing pain over the side of his head. Was that why his face felt so sticky? Was it dried blood?

His eyes strained in the fading light of ember and ash. Where were you? He noticed a crumpled form at the foot of a tree. Her breathing was shallow and her clothes were torn, pants not even pulled up over her bare behind. That much, he could see. His throat tightened. His eyes watered. What the hell had he let them do to you? How could he have let this happen? He had to get you out of there, and fast. If they hadn't killed him yet, that was surely on their agenda.

He began to squirm and writhe against his restraints. Whoever tied him up had experience. Just as hopelessness began to set in and cloud his judgement with fear -- real, genuine fear -- he noticed a reflection in the leaves. Just a few feet past his boots, a man was curled up on his side, snoring lightly in the calm breeze. His back was turned to Daryl, and behind him set a grungy backpack with a blade sticking out of the smallest pocket in the front. He glanced back to you, shivering on the ground, unsure if you were awake or unconscious or simply passed out from the exhaustion of prior events.

The sight of you in your disheveled mess was all her needed to kick him into gear. Carefully and hastily, he scooted himself down toward his only chance at redeeming his status as a loyal protector of the weak and vulnerable. Ideally, he'd be able to accomplish this in silence, but he was not in an ideal situation. His circumstances were heavy, laced in sweat and angst. The leaves beneath him rustled as his back slid across the ground, twigs snapping or moving to the side as he made his way closer to the large hunting knife. He'd pause between each scoot, studying the sleeping men around him for any sign of movement or wakefulness. When he'd decide the coast was clear enough, he'd resume. It felt like an eternity, but he made it there.

His core muscles strained as he sat himself up. He realized how sore he was. He must have taken a good beating. Seemed fitting, though. He was never one to go down without a fight. He left that sort of weakness in his past.

He guided his shaky, bound hands over to the bag. He slowly slid the knife out of the front pocket. His heart raged against his ribs. He didn't dare take a single breath until it was secured.

Slow. Slowness. Slowly. He repeated every variation of the word in his mind as he positioned the knife between his palms and dragged it back and forth until the rope finally severed. A silent breath of relief escaped him as he ripped the gag from his lips and worked on the rope tied around his ankles. When he was free, he stood and counted the sleeping bodies beneath him. Excluding you, there were four.

He considered waking you up and running for the hills, but he couldn't leave any loose ends. No, he thought of it like when your t-shirt has a loose thread. You could leave it to keep unraveling, or you could burn it at the base and extend the lifetime of your clothes. He decided he needed to burn this string before it could unravel any further.

Starting with the man closest to him -- the one who so graciously left his knife in plain sight for the archer -- he krept over and crouched down, plunching the blade into the base of his skull. Then, he moved on to the next, and the next one, and the one after that, until they were all a problem of the past. Until that pesky little thread could do no further damage to the rest of the shirt.

When the dirty work was behind him, he dropped the knife and rushed over to you. Your wrists were tied like his, but you were tied to the tree so you couldn't run. He eyed you over and gulped. With your pants not fully covering you and your shirt all ripped up, he could see the finger-shaped bruises littering your skin. There was blood on your inner thighs. Your lips were swollen and cut. His blood heated until it hit a boiling point. His hands trembled as they hovered over you. Touching you felt like a crime, but he had to wake you. He had to get you out of there.

"(Y/N)." He whispered as he laid a hand on your shoulder. You were shivering in the cool air, but a thin layer of sweat blanketed your exposed flesh. He gave you a gentle shake. "((Y/N), c'mon. We gotta go." He pleaded softly.

Your body jerked and you jolted awake. You gave him no chance to explain as you scrambled to your knees and cowered away against the tree.

"(Y/N) it's me. It's Daryl." He attempted his most soothing tone of voice. "C'mon, let me get ya cleaned up."

He outstretched his arm, offering you his hand. Without making eye contact you made a move to take it, but you were stopped by the restricting force of the rope that kept you anchored to the tree trunk. He moved quickly for the knife he tossed to the side earlier and returned with it. Without the pressure of remaining silent, he had your hands free in seconds.

He wasted no time helping you to your feet and averting his gaze as he slid your pants up where they belonged. He found he had a hard time keeping his mind straight and focused as your weeping filled the quiet campsite.

"Shh.." He cooed, keeping one hand on your upper back as he ushered you along with him to gather his things and yours. A smart man would have rummaged through the belongings of the ones he killed, too, but he wasn't concerned with making a smart call at that point. He was only worried about you.

"It's alright. C'mon. Let's get ya somewhere you can rest. It's alright. C'mon." He felt useless as ever, repeating the same generic words of comfort as you limped along beside him. He never urged you to up the pace, he didn't drag you along or have you carry your own bag. He felt like the least he could do was shoulder the weight of survival on behalf of you both. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of ou laying there,caked in blood, sweat, and bruises. A girl like you should have been caked in perfume and makeup. You hair should have been done up nice for a Sunday brunch, not matted with leaves and dirt. Your clothes should have been pristine and well fitting, unlike the filthy torn clothes that were beginning to hang off your frame like tender meat falling from the bone. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve any of it.

Eventually he found an acceptable spot that looked like it could have been a den for a hibernating bear. It was a big shrub by a little stream, perfectly indented to give you both enough room to crouch under its foliage. He gently set you down, dropping his bow and your bags beside him. He crouched down in front of you and scanned you, worry written articulately over his features.

Your eyes remained glued to the ground. Your nose was upturned in disgust but your eyes told a different story; one of pain and despair and mourning for the person you were before that night. Your frown was deep enough to leave a scar.

"(Y/N)..." He breathed. Your eyes slowly found their way to his and welled with tears all over again. Of all things you had -- meaning, being alive and away from those men -- there was nothing you were more grateful for than his blue eyes staring back at you. You hated the way he looked at you with defeat and pity, though. You hated that he had one more thing to worry about. Still, he was there, and he was welcome. "Let's get ya cleaned up, okay?"

You nodded once, if absentmindedly. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn't pinpoint their location, though. They were scrambled, swarming all around you, like gnats you couldn't swat away.

He pulled an old shirt from his bag and leaned over to the stream, getting it nice and wet before wringing it out. He turned back to you and brought it up to your cheek, gently dabbing and swiping away at the dirt, grime, sweat, and blood. He moved on to your neck and hands, then he paused. You both looked down at your jeans. You knew it needed to be taken care of, and he did too, but the question was really about which one of you would be brave enough to work on the gruesome scene between your legs.

One look at your expression and he knew it couldn't be you. But, how could it be him? He couldn't put you in such a vulnerable position. No, not him.

That's when the lightbulb went off over his head. The stream, of course.

"Here." He offered you a hand. You took it slowly and he led you to your feet. "Wanna get in the water?" He asked. You stared down at the serene flowing water, trickling just before your feet. He cleared his throat. "I don't gotta look."

You almost could have laughed. After everything that had happened, Daryl seeing you bathe wasn't really a concern. Still, you had to maintain some shred of dignity, and washing those men off of you was a much needed stride toward leaving that horrid night in your past. So, you nodded, and he turned away to start a fire where you could warm up after rinsing off.

The button was busted off of your jeans. You guessed they couldn't waste their time with something as simple as undoing a button. You let out a shaky sigh and gritted your teeth. You moved to bend over and slide your jeans down, but a searing pain shot through your insides. You whimpered. "I can't." You barely managed.

"Huh?" He asked over his shoulder.

"I can't." You spoke up with a tremble. "I can't get them off. It hurts."

His throat tightened up. Had they really been so cruel to you?

"Ya want me to..." He trailed off.

"Please." You whispered and shut your eyes. He stood beside you and pulled your pants down to your ankles, kneeling down as he did so.

"Grab my shoulder." He instructed softly. You did. "Left leg." He said. You pulled it out. "Now the right."

With your jeans off, he stood up and looked down at your face, which you his from him, avoiding his gaze.

"Your -- Uh.." He glanced down at your underwear. You nodded, not needing to see what he meant. He followed the same process with those and turned away as soon as he was done. You cleared your throat.

"Can you help me sit?" You whispered. He sucked in a breath. It wasn't that you were annoying him. Anything but that, actually. He was glad to help you in any way you needed. It was the simple fact that you needed the help that was eating him alive. The thought that those guys could hurt you in this way, to this extent, was infuriating and heartbreaking.

He turned back to you and hovered behind you, placing a hand under each arm to support you while you lowered yourself down into the water. Once you were sitting on the creek bed, you adjusted yourself and sighed.

"Just, uh, watch for snakes, okay?" Was all he could say before turning his attention back to the fire finally.

Your frown deepened as you stared down at your bloodied thighs. A plop beside you startled you before realizing it was just the old shirt he was using to clean you up.

"Figured ya might need it." He mumbled.

You gripped the cloth in your hand and stared at it. Blood and filth stained it. Your lip quivered as you ran it over your inner thighs, scrubbing your own dried blood away and watching it disappear in the gentle current. You hissed and winced as you cleaned yourself where you were really injured.

When you were done, you peered over your shoulder, where Daryl stared at the small flame. He felt your eyes on him and he looked up at you.

"Need some clothes?" He asked.

"Please." You replied. He nodded once and rummaged through your bag. He could only find a semi-clean shirt, but no more pants. He pulled his own bag forward and searched for the new two-pack of boxers he'd scavenged awhile back.

"I, uh, didn't see no more pants, but... You can have those." He said, holding your shirt and the fresh boxers out to you.

"Thanks." You pressed your lips into a thin attempt at a friendly smile.

He turned away again so you could change your shirt, but you needed his help with the boxers, which he did without you needing to ask, and without a single peek at you.

He helped you back over to the den where you could warm up by the fire. You kept the blanket in your bag, so he made sure to wrap it around your shoulders while you sat.

"Ain't got no food." He broke the silence after a little while. You nodded.

"Not hungry anyways."

"Mm." He hummed. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

----

By midday, you were on the move again, trailing right behind him as he stomped slowly over the underbrush so you could keep his pace. He'd stop every now and then, and though he didn't say it, you knew it was because he didn't want to overwork you.

By late afternoon, the sun was on the far end of the sky, casting an orange glow over the woods.

Daryl had barely been able to look at you, and you couldn't exactly claim any different. You two had taken a break again, sipping water and scanning around for any game or edible plants.

"I want ya to know.." He cleared his throat, shattering the thick silence that glazed over you both all day. "I want ya to know I didn't see it. None of it."

"I know you weren't looking." You deadpanned.

"Nah, not at the stream. I meant -- I didn't see none of it." He clarified. He had a sneaking suspicion the reason you couldn't bare to look at him might have been the possibility of him seeing what had happened to you. He, however, just hated seeing you look so broken, knowing had he been more vigilant yesterday, none of those guys would have been able to sneak up on him. You looked at him finally.

"I know. They hit you over the head 'cause you were fighting them."

"Mm." He nodded. "I just... I need to tell ya I'm sorry." His voice cracked as he looked down at his hands and back up to you. His leg was bouncing anxiously and his gums must have bled from how hard he chewed at them.

"Why?" You pushed your eyebrows together.

"I shoulda been lookin' out. Shoulda protected ya. Shoulda--"

"You were. You have been." You cut him off. "You've looked out for me every day since the prison. You've been protecting me since the quarry. You protect everyone. That wasn't your fault." You insisted. He just looked back down at his hands and sniffled, blinking back tears. He scolded himself for being the one to cry, when you were the one who got hurt. "Hey." You pressed on. "Listen to me. You got us out of there. You took care of them. You saved me. Then, you still took care of me. If we were still back there, they would have killed you and robbed you by now. And, if they hadn't killed me yet, I'd be wishing I was dead. I wouldn't be here without you. I would have never survived even before last night without you, and I wouldn't be sitting here telling you that today if it weren't for you."

He looked you in the eyes as you spoke every word. It was a great relief to him that you weren't angry with him -- that you didn't blame him. Still, he felt so uneasy.

"Can we camp here?" You asked suddenly. He shrugged.

"Yeah. We can." He agreed. His voice was still broken.

"Can I sit with you?" You asked. He looked confused but he still nodded, even if he was unsure what you meant.

Ignoring the aches all over your body, you crawled over to him and sat in front of him, between his legs, leaning your back against his torso. He was stiff, unused to being so close to someone, but he didn't resist. As you settled in and got comfortable, he rested his arms by your sides.

"You didn't fail me, Daryl. Nobody makes me feel safer."

Join the taglist || Masterlist

#tw: implied abuse #tw: implied sa #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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madwomansapologist · 4 months

Text

blossoming alone over you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: it's 31st december. i'm drunk. song "pink on the night" by mitsky for wyll. song "working for the knife" by mitsky for astarion. song "abbey" by mitsky for shadowheart. companions (wyll, astarion, shadowheart) x druid!tav. background cast (karlach, kagha, halsin, lae'zel, gale, cazador). tav is used as a nickname. wyll stuttering. astarion seeing draws of himself because he fucking deserves it. shadowheart falling for a druid that can turn into a wolf.

Trust betrayed, secrets spread, lies disguised as facts. That's how life works. It gives you hope, then crushes it front of your eyes. It let's you reach your goal, just to rip it out from your bare fingers.

The cruelty of life is the ultimate sign that gods do exist. There must be a higher being watching its puppets pathetic attempts of conquering an unreachable happiness. There are other proofs, but that's the easiest to perceive.

And they were used to it. From the renowed Blade of Frontiers to the pale elf hiding in the shadows: they all knew what to expect from life. Dishonest agreements, stolen hearts, the cold embrace of loss. Life is painful, so they shielded themselves from any harm.

But not you.

At first they assumed you were naive. The things Shadowheart thought to herself when you reached for a hand stuck in a portal; or how easily Astarion deceived you when he thought you were a mind flayer; even Wyll judged you from time to time.

You let your guard down easily. Instead of protecting yourself, you were helping others. Instead of using your teeths and claws to get what you wanted, you preserved nature.

But naive you were not. You may have trusted them too easily, but you weren't blind. You knew when a question was a order, when a joke was a threat, when a smile was just sharp teeth showing.

You discovered what Astarion really was and demanded he wouldn't maim anyone that didn't deserved it. You convinced Wyll that the evil he so wanted to tear apart was a victim. Saw right throught Kagha's distorted teachings, don't matter how alluring they sounded.

To turn a foe into a friend was your instinct, but you were not hesitant to solve problems with violence if it was needed. And sometimes you even got pleasure from it.

Wyll will never forget your face after finding out about Kagua's deal with the shadow druids. You didn't even allowed the party to rest. All your party received from you was an order to clean the ivy from their weapons.

"Shouldn't we focus on freeing Halsin? He must understand Kagha better than us," Wyll pointed. "You're a druid, but that doesn't mean the groove sees you as one of them. But they will hear Halsin."

"She can hear me," you slammed your staff on the ground, giving strength to your certainty. It pulsed with energy, and its glow matched the beat of your heart. "Or she can die. I can grant her mercy, but I won't give her time."

Wyll felt his body getting warmer, Shadowheart's impressed whistle reached his ear. "O-Of course," he cleared his throat. "After you."

"We'll purge some rats," you smirked at him. It didn't feel threatening. "Can I count with your blade?"

"Always," Wyll answered you, staring at your back. He could stare at your back all day. And he meant it.

Seeing that you weren't naive, Astarion came to a conclusion about you. Meanwhile the Blade of Frontiers stopped seeing your benevolent acts as a signs of impulsivity, the pale elf saw them as a mask. Something meant to cover what others should be paying attention to instead.

After all, who would suspect that something is rotten when the scent is sweet?

You're beautiful. Astarion admit it. Your laugh reverberates through the forests, your tiredness calls for aid, your eyes attract and soothe. Beautiful faces can make up for dirty minds, soft words can hide the lack of a heart, pretty acts are easier to see than destructive intentions.

You're just like him. Astarion sees it, clear as the sea. Your delicate smiles and his gaze full of lust are just as fake. Your sweet words and his dirty innuendos are both rehearsed. In need of this party, it's not hard to understand why you two would act to ensure they don't ever leave.

When Shadowheart cures you first, Astarion's invisible reflection occupies your eyes. When Lae'zel attacks monsters aiming at you, he's your shadow. When Gale puts more food on your plate, Astarion can see his smile on your face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that you both look the same.

One may say that your corrupt intentions are nothing compared to the good you've already done, but Astarion is not so idealistic. Sin stains your good deeds, he can see it. You depict yourself as someone better than them, better than him, but that's just your depraved plan to survive.

And he can't blame you. It's working perfectly.

Astarion may despise you for being as dirty as himself, but he respects that part of you. He trusts your plans, your combat skill, your magic. You're good on what you do. Screaming instructions to help during fights, discovering hidden passages, trading for better weapons.

You're not a good person, but there's a reason for why you survived this far. You're competent. That Astarion can respect. That's why he's constantly trying to get on your good side. You are smart and strong. Maybe strong enough to rip Cazador apart.

And if you haven't realize that Astarion is putting on an act to win your heart, than the shame is on you for not realizing that you both are the exactly same thing.

But you had to show him how wrong he was.

At midnight you approached his tent with your sketchbook. Astarion thought you wanted a distraction, using your drawings just as an excuse to talk a bit. Gods know he was dying of boredom before you appeared.

"I didn't knew you were so talented, darling," he praised you.

Illuminated by candles, Astarion let his guards down. Instead of just saying the right thing at the time, Astarion was really impressed at your skills.

It must be nice. To be able to create things with your bare hands. Sometimes he cry at the start of a good book. He don't know why, but it must be because he too would like to be making things. Astarion thinks that creating is the ultimate sign that you're alive, instead of just surviving.

Maybe one day he can become a poet.

"I can't help but notice that you have a muse," it was clear someone had attracted your gaze. Maybe a dear friend you miss, or perhaps another competitor for your attention. "Should I worry about being replaced?"

Astarion expect you to flush, but all you did was to get... softer? You seemed to shrivel up.

Your mouth dried up. He doesn't even recognize himself. Astarion don't even remember how he looked like.

"That's you, Astarion," you told him. "And that's a gift. You helped a lot these past months and... All I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful."

It was the first time you saw Astarion in silence. Paper by paper, he admired your drawings. Do they look bad? You've spent a lot of time training to be able to create something worthy of his beauty, but you admit they're not perfect.

Or maybe it isn't the quality. It's the fact that you spend so long drawing him. How many hours did you spend on those sketchs? How many hours did you spend glaring at him from your tent? Does he feel ofended? Invaded?

"That's how you see me?" Astarion whispered.

You barely heard his words.

"Yes, Astarion," you licked your lips. "I know some can be..."

His hand on your thigh stopped the rant you were about to go on. His bloody eyes were sharp. Just like the day you first met him, his dagger against your throat. Astarion looked pleased, but not happy.

As if he discovered being right about something he rather not be.

What you gave him... this is a treasure. So many drawings, so many angles, so many poses. How many centuries has it been since he last saw himself? How many since Astarion forgot his own face? Sometimes he touches his face, trying to picture it, but his imagination isn't good.

You gave him something priceless.

And when something is priceless that people discover how sunk in debt they really are.

"And now you want me to pay you back," his husky voice made shivers went down your spine. His nails scratched lightly your skin, drawing shapes on your thigh. "Don't you?"

You jumped from your spot, getting away from him. You were flushed, but not in a good way. "From where I came from," you breathed in. You sounded offended. "Something that puts you in debt isn't a gift."

As you turned over to go to sleep, you felt that if you didn't say what you really thought you would end up exploding. You know you don't have the right to speak about his life, but that didn't stopped you.

"Cazador made you believe that you have to sell yourself to be worth of anything, but he's wrong. He was wrong since the very start. We'll lacerate that monster for what he did to you. And that I promise you: it won't be fair. Cazador don't deserve fair."

You felt your nails digging the skin of your palms. "That was a gift. Get used to it."

Maybe Astarion was wrong about you. And maybe he was wrong about himself.

Merciful, but not weak. Gentle, but not naive. Pleasing, but not manipulable. You were a walking question mark. Whenever they thought they understood what you were, you proved them wrong. Not impulsive. Not manipulative. Not stupid.

Until they came up with a word that described you too perfectly. A word that didn't need any buts or explanations. One that everyone cognize, but that isn't used often. That don't deserve to be used often.

You're kind.

It's in your nature to be considerate. You help others because you can. No. Wrong. And that's something that Shadowheart still don't really understand: you help others because you can, so therefore you should.

She has only one goal in mind. Shadowheart needs to make to Baldur's Gate with the mysterious artifact in safety, and if she does everything right... maybe her Lady will grant her what she truly want.

But you make Shadowheart forget about all that.

She must be discreet, she did that her whole life, and still Shadowheart finds herself talking about her goddess to you. Her mission depends on her going straight towards Baldur's Gate yet there she's, following you as you try to solve everyone's problems.

Shadowheart didn't even noticed. She didn't made a rational choice to open herself to you. She just did it. Almost as if you were fundamental part of her forgotten past and her heart couldn't do nothing but to trust you.

You impervious into her prayers. Invaded her dreams. Burned your mark inside her mind. Your name feels like honey on her tongue. Like a sweet treat that she can never get enough of.

You tempted her, luring her with your determination and grace, and Shadowheart proved herself sinful once again.

If only you had judged Shadowheart for her loyalty to Lady Shar. Asking her what her favorite flower is. Listening to her opinions. Even when she was nothing but distant and cold, you were sweet. Toothaching sweet.

Shadowheart was hungry. She'd been hungry for her whole life. Starving for something easy. Something raw. Something more than a beautiful concepts. Something real. And how could a starving person ignore a banquet?

She can't. Shadowheart couldn't. But she should've. Damn, she should've.

You're testing her faith. Constantly. Every smile, every vulnerable look, every act of protection. It's like you're trying to compete with Lady Shar for the control over her mind. Sometimes it feels like you're winning.

She was admiring the sky without stars when the wolf came. All it took was a sight to paralyze her. Shadowheart had a mace, but the weapon was useless in her trembling hands.

The giant beast, wool pale from the moonlight, foamy drool dripping from its fangs. In a golden glow that being of darkness transformed into something.

Into you.

"It's just me," you whispered to her, eyes wide with worry and blame. "I didn't... You're safe. You're fine."

She forced herself to unclench her jaw. "Don't tell any of them," Shadowheart hissed as soon as she knew she could speak without stuttering. "Let this fear I have stay as a secret."

"As you wish," was what you said. No questions, no jokes, no provocations.

You went back to rummage through lost boxes and barrels in the ruined village. You had goblin's blood staining your face, but it didn't seen to bother you. "I wish I had a bag of holdings," you murmured to yourself.

Shadowheart was grateful. Either you decided to change the subject to cease her embarrassment or you just were this easily distracted, it still meant something. Her flushed cheeks went unnoticed.

She leafed through some damp books, trying to find something useful. "Embrace loss," she murmured to you. Now your attention was back on her. "We'll never let you have one."

You gasped. "Moon, why is that?"

Shadowheart ignored how breath turned into a difficult task when you used that new nickname.

"Face it, Tav," she called you by the nickname Gale created to you. "You are a compulsive hoarder. I've seen you keep a rotten apple in your pocket."

"I thought it could be useful!"

Shadowheart smiled. She did not even realized she was smiling. "I bet you did."

You have a soft spots for battles you can't possible win, protecting people in need and turning foes into friends. And apparently you are their soft spot.

Part 2!

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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mickyschumacher · 10 months

Note

hi love!! Could you write something about Charles x actress!reader where he gets jealous of one of readers ex boyfriend who’s famous and maybe leads to smut?

(i really hope it makes sense, english is not my first language 😭😭)

thank you !!🩷🩷

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jealousy is a disease. and it's latest victim is your boyfriend, charles leclerc.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy obviously, zayn is kind of a dick bless him 😭, unprotected sex (wrap your tippy pls), praise, blowjob, fingering, oral sex, p in v, orgasm denial, mutual orgasms, cumming inside, mentioning power couple tomdaya ♡︎, sucky media as per usual :/

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: charles leclerc x famous actress!fem!reader, ex!zayn malik x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: if i don't get to see charles and zayn in one room irl, i'll just write them in one room if that’s okay :( on another note, i hope this was what you wanted anon! and your english is fine, love. sorry for the wait ♡︎ // questionably written and proof-read on a jetlagged mind

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were many things Charles understood well. Family, racing, the politics of racing... but one thing he would never truly understand was how he got you.

The Y/N L/N. An Oscar-winning, multitalented, down-to-earth, and gorgeous actress who had entirely won the public's hearts along with Charles'. The actress who had managed to rule the industry that most were born into.

How on earth had he gotten so lucky?

Charles couldn't deny that he was Ferrari's golden boy nor that he had become a fame athlete. But got you were on another level.

For what it was worth, Charles was a confident man. He thought he cleaned up quite well, he knew his mother raised him right, he knew that charisma itself was scared of him.

Yet, all that confidence came crashing down when it came to your ex.

Zayn Malik.

If Charles could ignore him, he would. But Zayn was everywhere. On his Twitter, on his TikTok, on his Instagram... his fans and your fans especially loved him. Why wouldn't they? He was a literal Greek, well South Asian, god part of arguably one of the best boy band's in history with a voice that had been blessed by Heaven's angels themselves.

When fans questioned why you and Zayn had broken up and you had moved on with an F1 driver, Charles found himself quietly agreeing.

But then he realised that by his side was you. You weren't next to Zayn or anyone else. You were with Charles because you loved him and he loved you. And that was more than enough.

That being said, Charles couldn't help feel a bit maddened at headline he had woken up to this morning.

You let out a small yawn. Sunday mornings were the most calm for you. Especially when you had managed to snag Charles for the week. You turned to your awoken boyfriend with a smile before frowning. "What's on that screen that made you look like this, amour (love)?" You queried, rubbing a finger over the crease between his eyebrows.

Charles looked up from his phone, smiling at the sight of your face. "Nothing, mon amour (my love)," the Monégasque dismissed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you close to him.

Naturally you would've snuggled yourself into him but you could tell he was upset. "No, Cha. Tell me what's wrong. What can I do to turn that frown upside down? Hmm?" You softly asked, peeking up at him while you rested your head on his chest.

You could feel Charles' body convulse as he let a gentle chuckle pass his lips. "I can never hide anything from you, hmm? It's really nothing, Y/N. Just a stupid headline."

You mended your brows, taking his phone from his hand. If you knew anything about headlines, most of them were never good. Your eyes had captured the photo of your ex first, making you deflate a little. You continued to read the headline that made you and Zayn sound like you were still together and then went to the little summary below it.

"They're 'dying to know what happens?'," You huffed, closing his phone. You pursed your lips and peered over Charles. "I swear I didn't know he was coming, Cha. I promise. We can totally skip if you don't want the drama. I'm okay with that. We can lounge in the house and do nothing," You offered.

Charles smiled softly at your words. You were always thinking of everyone but yourself. "Thank you but I wouldn't miss you winning these awards for the world, ma belle (my beautiful). You deserve to win these awards and I'm going to watch you do it. Nothing could ruin tomorrow for me."

━━━━━━━━━━━

A few hours into the Oscars, after parading the red carpet and gushing over you with interviewers, Charles was quite sure he was right. Nothing could ruin tonight because, god, were you a sight to behold.

You had captured everyone's eyes. Talking to your stylist months ago, you had accomplished your two wishes about your appearance at the Oscars: simplicity and red.

Red on a red carpet was always a bold choice but this year's carpet was a light grey. Dressed in a custom red ball gown, a matching silk shawl and a simple necklace, you had blown everyone away.

The amount of people that had solely come to your table to compliment you was surreal. But Charles couldn't argue with them. You were surreal. When he first saw you come out of the dressing room, he could've sworn his heart had stopped and for a moment, he seriously considered your offer yesterday morning.

The most beautiful person in the world loved him. Nothing could ruin the storm whirling in his stomach. The same storm he had felt when he was trying to muster the courage to talk to you when you first met at a tennis match in Monaco.

As you two conversed with your manager about the after party activities you were considering attending, Charles and you heard a voice that was all but too familiar.

"Y/N," The voice greeted.

You knew it was Zayn. You also knew how Charles felt. So you turned around with what you thought was enough confidence and greeted him. "Zayn," You breathed out with a small smile.

"It's been a while. You look out of this world. Beautiful as always," Zayn grabbed your hand and left a small kiss.

Oh good lord.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Charles tense. You cleared your throat. "Thank you. You look.. uh, amazing as always too," You complimented awkwardly, eyes darting anywhere but his face.

Before Zayn could fill the upcoming silence with any unnecessary compliments, you linked your hand through Charles' arm. "This is Charles. My boyfriend," You smiled proudly.

Charles' could feel his heart speed up. He gave a kind smile to the singer, jutting out his hand for him to shake.

Zayn poked his tongue against the inners of his cheek, eyeing Charles' hand before returning the gesture. He locked eyes with the Monégasque, tilting his head to the side. "Right. The driver, right?"

Jesus. For a second you had forgotten why you broke up with him.

"Yeah... the racing driver," Charles responded with a tight voice and slightly narrowed eyes.

A nervous laugh fell from your lips. "O-Okay. I think we're gonna head over to Tom and Zendaya. Uh, see you around, Zayn, hmm?"

Zayn moved his eyes from Charles to you. He gave his usual charming smile. Putting his hand on your shoulder, he said, "Yeah, sure. I'm always around as you know."

Charles felt his jaw lock as he watched Zayn's hand fall from your shoulder and trail loosely down your arm before he left. "See you, Y/N. Goodbye Charlie."

━━━━━━━━━━━

The after parties were a no go. For the first time in your life you couldn't tell what Charles was thinking. The silence after Zayn left and the car ride home was unbearable. You tried to comfort him by putting your hand over his and assuring him that Zayn was just a classified dick, but nothing came from Charles.

What you did know was that Charles was pissed. The tight grip on the steering wheel, his flexed jaw, the hardened eyes... all signs of an angry Charles.

Arriving home, you both entered your bedroom after taking your shoes off. You looked over to Charles. God the silence was unnerving. "Charles? Amour, are you okay?" You asked once again.

Charles sat on the bed, looking at you stand in front of him. His mind was going as fast as the cars he drove. 'Out of this world?' All Charles could think was that he was going to fuck you out of this world. He wasn't angry about the snide remarks. He was angry that he was even jealous of such a pathetic human being. Moreover, he was furious over those small touches of his.

"Chérie (Sweetheart), come here. Let me help you change," Charles smiled, his hand beckoning for you to come towards him.

You sighed, walking over to him. You could see his hands aching to grab you but instead you stretched out your hand to touch his hair. Charles closed his eyes at the feeling. "Cha... I'm sorry about him. He's an asshole," You apologised, now rubbing his cheek gently.

Charles leaned into your caress, fluttering his eyes open so you could see those soft baby blues you had completely fallen head over heels for. "It's not your fault, chérie. I think he's regretting leaving the most smartest and beautiful woman in the world. You have nothing to apologise for."

You chuckled softly, trying to disguise how touched you felt. Charles complimented you like this all the time and it never got easier. No one had treated you like this before and especially not Zayn.

"Now come on," Charles stood up from the bed and turned you around, "Let's get this off." A small kiss was planted on the side of your cheek as Charles' eyes twinkled through the mirror across you.

You smiled warmly at him and nodded. You watched him take the red straps off of your shoulders, leaving a trail of warm kisses on either side. You sighed calmly. His hands trailed to the zip of the dress, pulling it down, he explored the smooth of your back, placing a kiss on the back of your neck. Charles gently pushed down the red gown, letting it pool at your bare feet.

You reached to the back of your neck to take off the gorgeous silver necklace you had worn but Charles stopped you by grabbing your wrists. "Leave it," He whispered, grazing your arms with his touch.

An involuntary shiver came over you at his voice and from the air rushing against your bare skin.

You could feel Charles' lips quiver at the side of your face. "Cold? Let me warm you up, mon amour."

You drew a quiet, sharp breath as you felt him move your chin so you could properly see him in your mirror. His ring-adorned hand travelled from your neck and down the valley of your breasts, ensuring to make the extra effort to glide over your nipples with the metal band.

Your breath hitched as one hand began to rub your hardened nipple while the other continued to travel down your stomach. "Charles..." You sighed out, feeling a familiar burn spark in the pits of your stomach.

Charles hummed in response, meeting your eyes in the mirror with lust and a tint of smugness. The corner of his lips quirked up, feeling you tense as he neared your pussy. Through the thickness of his own clothes, he could feel your skin begin to burn.

His cock hardened at your reaction. He had barely even done anything and his name was already falling from your lips.

His fingers continued to creep down your stomach, feeling the heat from your core radiate. A sigh of pleasure fell from his mouth as he pressed his two fingers into your folds. He could feel your arousal encompassing his fingers.

"So wet, ma chérie," Charles moaned in your ear, making you return the sinful sound back. "All for me, hmm? No one else gets you this wet, do they, chérie?"

You squirmed against him as Charles' fingers moved from the soft lips of your pussy and ghosted your clit so damn slowly. Your hips bucked involuntarily with the crave of more.

Suddenly, his juice-ridden fingers were pressed up against your bundle of nerves while his other hand tugged at your lip, waiting for your answer.

"Shit, no. No one. Only you make me this wet, Cha," You whimpered, grinding your hips up against his fingers for more pressure.

Charles smiled in satisfaction. "Let's sit, hmm?" He said, tapping your clit.

You jolted at the action, feeling his hands wrap around your waist, seating you on his lap as he sat down on your bed. Your pussy throbbed at the loss of touch but ached for the hardness pressed up against you.

"Feel that, amour? That's what you do to me," Charles grunted, feeling an obscene high come over him when you started to grind down on his cock. God did you have him under your spell. Only you could put your bare pussy down on his cock and make him want to cum in seconds.

But how could you not. In the mirror you could see a sex-hazed Charles, skin flushed at your actions. It turned you on to see him lose control.

"Fuck," Charles moaned, stilling your hips from moving any further. Ignoring your whines, he pushed opened your legs, taking in the glistening view from the mirror. Bringing his two fingers to your mouth, you opened your lips and lapped at your arousal on his fingers.

"Merde," He sighed out, moving his lubed fingers to your pussy. He teasingly rubbed his fingers fully up and down, make you gasp at the coldness of his ring. Shit.

"Charles, please. I want your fingers," You groaned in frustration, thighs taking his fingers into a tight grip.

Charles chuckled, "Anything for you, princesse." He pushed his to fingers into the soft walls of your pussy.

The both of you moaned in unison, your head falling back on his shoulders. He watched eagerly as you enveloped his fingers entirely as if it was a magic trick of some sorts. The lewd sheen of you glimmered over his fingers while he thrusted them in and out.

"Look at you, chérie. Making a mess all over me," Charles smiled against your cheek as he looked down at his black trousers which now sported a darker stain.

Your warm walls clenched around his fingers, sending Charles on a journey to find that right spot both he and you craved so much. Charles could tell by the sudden parting of your lips and the jerk of your hips that he had reached it. His eyes flickered over to your face, bringing a small smug smirk to his mouth.

Your eyes brows were creased in the middle, laden with trickles of sweat building up while your mouth remained in a constant state of opening, letting those beautiful moans fall out as your chest heaved, craving more and more of him.

The trembles, the moans, the pure state of bliss you were in... it was all because of him. And Charles loved it.

Charles brought his thumb to your bundle of nerves, rubbing you in slow circles as he continued to push his digits in and out. He whispered softly, lips dancing against the curve of your ear, "You don't know how beautiful you looked tonight, mon amour. So many eyes on you. I bet they all thought the same thing... that you looked like a goddess. Sometimes I wish they could see what I'm seeing right now. This gorgeous body, your wet pussy trembling all over me, your swollen lips.... hear those pretty little moans of yours. Then they would realise... you are perfection. Unfortunately for them, they aren't the luckiest man alive. I am."

All of a sudden, all your emotions were rushing towards you. Hearing Charles' thick voice while his fingers fucked you sent you overboard. The ache of your core was climbing higher and higher, hips convulsing. "Fuck, Charles, I'm going to cum," You murmured with staggered pants, eyes fluttering shut.

Charles smiled softly, cock throbbing at the sight of you reaching your climax. But as much as Charles loved it, he needed his cock in your warm walls.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt Charles remove his fingers from your pussy, leaving his thumb circling your clit aggravatingly slow. Your walls clenched around nothing in the effort to grab the last sliver of euphoria that Charles had brought. "Charles," You whispered, almost with a sob, eyes shaking in both annoyance and lust.

Charles brought his lips to yours, softly hushing your cries. "I'm sorry, chérie, I need you." His baby blues bored into yours, taking you in.

Looking at Charles when he had said that, given how the night had played out, the tone of his voice told you everything you needed to know. "I know, amour. I need you too," You whispered back, giving him a long peck.

You sat up from his lap, turning to undo the buckle of his belt. The clangs echoed throughout the room as the tension between the both of you became heavier and desperate. Your hands raced to take off the strap while Charles itched to take off his stained pants, cock aching to come out.

Charles let out a low groan, feeling your warm breath on his bare cock as your removed his boxers. His Adam’s apple hitched as he felt your tongue take a long wet stripe of his cock.

His fingers itched to move you away and fuck you like he initially intended to, but the moment he felt your mouth sink down his shaft, his hand naturally fell into your hair. His cock fit perfectly in your mouth as if they were made for each other.

Charles' teeth sunk down on his bottom lip, baby blues eagerly watching you on your knees for him. His hand tightened around your hair as you hollowed your throat. With your eyes flickering to him as your teeth just grazed his cock, sending a tremor down his spine, he let out a series of soft moans. "Just like that, amour," He encouraged while you sucked him up and down.

Taking long licks at the shaft of his pulsing cock, you removed your lips briefly, resting them on his tip. "Only for you, Cha," You reminded him.

Charles held your gaze, feeling another shudder rip through his body. Jesus. Speechlessly he watched you bring your swollen lips back down his cock, hand gently reaching out towards his balls. Charles' hip jerked up at the sudden action, pushing his cock further down your throat.

The rasp of his grunt made you clench your thighs, feeling your pussy drip with arousal. You could feel his cock begin to move with Charles' control, high on the pleasure. Your throat fought to keep itself open, wanting every inch of him in your mouth.

Charles' pace began to speed as the sheer euphoria began to climb up. He averted his eyes to your face, feeling himself tighten further in your throat as seeing you take his cock was a different high on it's own. Your eyes were glassy, brimming with tears of brought of lust and arousal; saliva and sweat painted your skin with a glow he cherished. But what did it for him was the small bulge in your throat; all of him just in your throat.

God, did he just want to thrust himself harder till he came. He needed to cum... but not in your throat.

"Mon amour," Charles grunted, tapping the underside of your chin.

You moved your mouth from his cock, feeling his hand gently lift your chin as you stood from your knees. No words were needed as your eyes searched his.

Bringing your lips to his, Charles wrapped his arm around your waist, flushing your burning body to his unfairly clothed chest. Yet, you could feel the heat pouring off of him. You could barely breathe as you kissed Charles; the fervent need for each other was almost overwhelming.

You could feel his puffy lips slowly detach from yours, eyes staring into yours as he positioned his cock to your wet folds.

Something about this moment felt nostalgic, reminding you of your first time with Charles. The slow and careful movements, the way Charles looked at you as if he had the whole world in his eyes... as if everything was okay as long as you were by his side.

Fuck Zayn. Fuck everyone else.

All he needed was you and he had you... entirely.

You whimpered loudly, feeling his cock drive into you, filling you entirely. "Merde," you heard Charles cuss as he flung his hands onto your bare hips. The air that was once full of your pants and the obscene sounds of your lips sucking his cock was now full of your lewd moans and the sounds of your skin slapping and sticking against one another.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as Charles thrusted into you, losing himself in the feeling of your warm folds enveloping his cock, acting as some sort of siphon that he couldn't escape while he watched your breasts bounce. No... he was under your spell.

Those same thoughts wandered into his head as he rutted into you. How had he gotten so lucky? All he knew was that he must've been a good soul in every past life of his in order to get someone like you.

"Fuck," You cursed, back arching as your body welcomed each hit of euphoria. You burned with desire, humming with approval; cheeks aflame and moans slurred. Your pussy tightly wrapped around his cock began to clench as Charles' fingers had found their way to your clit.

A shiver shoots down Charles' spine as he watched your breasts come on full display. He bent his head down, hot tongue swiping over your nipple. He moaned against your now flushed breast. You were driving him insane. He couldn't think, he could barely speak. You had taken over any stability he once had.

"Charles," You rasped, feeling the coil at the bottom of your stomach tighten.

Charles softly smiled against your breast, detaching his mouth and increasing the pace of his hips against yours. His eyes flickered down to where his cock met your folds, falling into an entrance while he watched your arousal coat his cock.

"Cum for me, chérie," Charles encouraged, feeling your hands travel up his back, pressing into the fabric of his shirt, leaving no inch of his skin missed by you.

"Charles, Charles, Charles," You moaned his name; your favourite song. Your body trembled, melting against him as he tightened his grip on your hips, steadying you as a white light ripped past your eyes, hips bucking involuntarily to fully grasp the high of your climax.

Charles takes his turn at own favourite song; your name slipping from his lips, stuck on repeat. Your folds act as a vice, gripping him tightly. His cock throbbed, the heat of his skin rising. His pants turned higher and irregular, hips coming to a falter as he felt the hot white stripes of his cum coat your warm walls.

Charles' head fell back against the bed, slowly removing his softening cock from your pussy.

You let out a small sigh, almost collapsing against Charles if he hadn't wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close to him. His blues eyes skimmed over your face, a small smile playing on his lips while he brushed your sweat ridden hair back; his fingers trailed over your swollen lips, tracing the trails of red lipstick that had escaped it's confines.

"You're coming to Monaco, right?" Charles asked softly.

You smiled at him, running your hand through those soft brown locks of his, trailing down his face and ending at his small dimple. Rubbing the spot in small circles, you earnestly whispered, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Cha."

Charles' eyes softened, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead. "I'm sorry about tonight, amour," He apologised, feeling a slight bit childish and guilty over his reaction.

You chuckled, shaking your head, moving to rub the familiar crease between his eyebrows. "He's an asshole, Cha. I don't know if I tell you enough, but you're the man that I love... forever. There's no one else for me."

"So cheesy," Charles jested even though you could tell what you had said meant a lot to him, especially given that he had tightened his grip around you.

"Only for you, Charles," You rolled your eyes before holding his gaze. "Only for you."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months

Note

can i get a scarlet/violet gang x ghost trainer reader who lets their ghost types possess them for pranks ?

This took a minute to think about until mochi mayhem dropped--then I got ideas haha

...........

During the events of Mochi Mayhem...you seemed remarkably unfazed by Pecharunt's "curse" spreading throughout the village, finding it more amusing than frightening.

And it's because you were no stranger to being possessed yourself.

Your first experience occurred after a Spiritomb's soul got separated and found you as a temporary host while you were exploring some ruins in Paldea (with your poor Fuecoco at the time being terrified for you).

Fortunately it wasn't an aggressive one, just a scared lonely spirit that was piloting your body around until it was reunited with the other 107 souls of that Spiritomb....which turned out to be a shiny!

In a show of gratitude, it decided to join your team--and soon you found your true calling as a ghost type trainer.

So you've picked up other ghosts throughout your journeys in Paldea, Kitakami, and BB Academy.

At some point you trusted your main team enough to allow them to possess your body.

Initially, they only did if they believed it was necessary (ie saving you from a fall or sudden Pokémon attack).

But then you decide to let them do so for pranks and such--mainly reserving those for whoever bothered your friends, while other times your friends are the hapless victims.

Exhibit A: When a BB Academy student is harassing Kieran over how he used to act, you see him getting upset and have one of your Shiny Spiritomb's souls possess you, enabling you to creep up and stare at the bully--all behind his back without him ever noticing you.

He's confused when they suddenly look terrified and run away....and then he slowly turns around, screaming a bit upon seeing your face in the likeness of a Spiritomb (like in that one episode of Journeys where Ash gets possessed by one).

You feel bad, especially after the soul leaves your body, and you promise that you'll never do that again.

Although he is grateful you saved him from that intense moment.

Exhibit B: You're hanging out with Penny at your house, watching her play some horror game on your console.

Your Gengar gets the mischievous idea to turn the lights off and possess you, creating a creepy atmosphere all around the house, making your friend paranoid of whether the sounds were coming from the game or elsewhere.

In hindsight, it sounds hilarious..but you forgot Penny doesn't fw horror movie tropes like that.

As she commands Umbreon to attack you out of pure instinct-

Only to see you and Gengar get forcibly separated and hit the ground hard.

Knock Off was no joke.

She apologizes but is a bit annoyed bc she couldn't save her progress thanks to your "prank".

Exhibit C: While Arven is giving Nemona, Penny, Kieran, and Carmine lessons on the art of sandwich crafting, you stroll over with some purple mochi, offering it as a dessert.

Obviously they decline, seeing Pecharunt literally hovering beside you and wondering if you already forgot what happened.....and are horrified when you shrug and eat one, your eyes turning purple.

Yet before anyone can fully freak out, you just laugh and start talking normally.

To make a long story short, you and the mythical 'mon came to an agreement that you'll eat the mochi it provides as long as it doesn't make you do anything harmful (like battling) or anything ridiculous (like dancing and saying "mochi" nonstop) while possessing you.

It's still mischievous at heart, of course. You'll allow it to have a little bit of fun considering its troubling past.

Exhibit D: Your Skeledirge was the first 'mon you used the Synchro Machine on after arriving to BB Academy, walking around and battling wild Pokémon in the terarium for a few good hours.

This "reverse possession", however, left some adverse effects on you even after desynchronizing...as for several days you developed a habit for singing, could taste smoke in your breath, and even your partner's little fire bird companion decided that it wanted to nestle atop your head.

You realize what a funny prank this could be.

So you pull up to the cafeteria to the "date" Drayton invited you to and freak out the rest of the Elite Four (except for Crispin who immediately realizes you own a Skeledirge and thinks you're awesome).

That also makes for a rather...awkward reunion with Kieran who thinks you've seriously gone off the deep end, and you drop the act right away.

But he's too caught up in the idea of battling you and winning to care about why tf you're possessed rn.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon penny #pokemon kieran #pokemon nemona #pokemon carmine #spiritomb #pecharunt #gengar #skeledirge #headcanons

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sanguinesky-if · 5 months

Text

Sanguine Sky

DEMO [Public] [Updated 24/02/2024] genres: romance, modern-fantasy, supernatural, mystery, dark-fantasy.

Sanguine Sky is a work-in-progress modern dark-fantasy interactive novel. The story is heavily focused on romance, characters, and relationships.

The story rated 18+, contains mature and distressing content that may be triggering to certain individuals. It is recommend to check the full list of warnings before you proceed to the story. Please exercise caution and take care of yourself.

Word count [Public]: 47k words [excl. code] Word count [Patreon]: 92k words [excl. code] [Updated 14/04/2024]

You are a detective, tasked with investigating mysterious murders that have taken place in your normally quiet and peaceful hometown, Fallenmor.

With two victims confirmed already, the initial one being your former mentor, Detective Bergmann, the situation couldn't seem more dire. Or so you thought until you received the news of another body, a possible third victim, discovered at the police station. In your very own office.

An accident, a mere coincidence, a straightforward warning, a looming threat, or something entirely else… Whatever is happening, you feel it affecting you, awakening something both significantly familiar and distinctly foreign inside of you.

If only you knew that this was just the beginning… Things could have been different.

But back then, in your ignorance, your singular concern lay with a pressing question: if you failed to find the murderer, who would become the next victim?

➤ Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay, or bisexual.

➤ Customize your appearance and shape your personality.

➤ Take on the role of a detective, immerse yourself in the work of the police station.

➤ Embrace the mystery of your existence, or reject that inner sight of you.

➤ Seven romance options to choose from. Select their gender, be shy or bold, or focus on your goal without pursuing anyone.

All ROs are player-sexual and gender-selectable [M/F].

Kyle / Keira Moreno

Your colleague, a police inspector, and one of the rudest people you have ever met. Sharp and stern, K is surprisingly perceptive, and they use it to really see you. The good, the bad. Everything. Appearance: icy blue eyes, dark red hair, very pale skin.

Alexis 'Lex / Lexie' Conlan

Your best friend, and also your former partner from times when you were just a patrol officer. With a heart of gold and an approachable attitude, L always chooses you over the others. Appearance: forest green eyes, copper hair, beige freckled skin.

Morgan Schoivell

Your other colleague, a highly-skilled lab technician. M is rather reserved when it comes to emotions, and after almost a year of working together, M is still a walking mystery for you. Appearance: dark brown eyes, ash blonde hair, light skin.

Roderick / Rebecca Reyes

The commanding agent of the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) team sent to catch the killer. Overbearing and ruthless, R has their own way of getting things done. Appearance: gray eyes, blonde hair, pale skin.

Theodore 'Theo' / Theresa 'Tess' Vazquez

Another member of the CID team. With a cocky smile, T is full of flirts and sneering comments, regardless of the occasion. T has no doubts about what they want and isn't afraid to vocalize it. Appearance: dark green eyes, black curly hair, rich brown skin.

Isaac / Iris Brailsford

I looks the most mature and approachable of CID's fellow agents. Looks can be deceiving, though. Working behind the scene and watching from afar, I carries all the scars within. Appearance: hazel eyes, dark brown hair, olive skin.

Sebastian / Selena Goldstein

Someone new and temporary, S has a velvety voice and a perfect smile that doesn't reach their eyes. You're not sure if your paths will cross in the future, but something tells you S can't be trusted. Appearance: black eyes, long black wavy hair, bronze skin.

Other notable characters:

Your twin-sister: Your sweet, kind, caring, and gentle twin sister. She always tries to be there for you, and show how much she appreciates you, no matter what. Chief of Police, Kendrick Nash: Your boss, who is not handling his job so well after the recent death of his husband, Klemens Bergmann. Detective Klemens Bergmann: Police chief's husband, who happened to be a senior detective and your mentor. He was the first victim, murdered under mysterious circumstances.

A full list of warnings is available in the demo before beginning of the story. I recommend to check it before you proceed to reading. Please take care of yourself.

Thank you for your interest ♥

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #choicescript #dashingdon #choice of games #hosted games #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #if: intro #if: wip #romance #supernatural #dark fantasy #modern fantasy #mystery #cyoa #if intro #if wip #ss about

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bitchlessdino · 5 months

Note

Sexy DK request time: He's tied to the bed and you do a strip show for him, he can't touch you, can only see your sexy af self, you can take this anywhere you like- Sam @dkakapizzaboy

Pairing: husband of mistress seokmin x fem married!reader Genre: angst, smut, slight fluff Word count:7.7k tags: insecure seokmin, mutual infidelity, unprotective sex, sub!seokmin, dom!reader, strip teases, male bondage, mention of fem oral, blow jobs, "ma'am" svt member!husband, let me know if I’m missing any! Summary: With the mutual understanding being cheated on, Seokmin finds solace in you, the beautiful stranger with ties to man that ruined his marriaged, Fortunately, light peeks out of the most inconvenient of circumstance. author note: still on hiatus but finally got this ok. sorry for teh wait sam my arch nemesis, thank you my darling wife @wongyuseokie for beta reading 💗

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @seokgyuu

Unknown number: hi. you may not know me but my wife knows your husband and I think they’re having an affair.

You've stared at the message for hours on end and just about lost your mind with every letter of every word. You could practically recite it without a beat, the sound of glass shattering in the distance every time you’re met at the end.

You didn’t believe it at first—part of the reason being you don’t want to—but it would logically explain his recent changes. The late nights. The woman’s perfume. The infrequent time at home.

You feel numb.

Buried in a weighted blanket of deceit and betrayal, you wallow in the depths of your sheets until the words seep into the deepest dark abyss of your chest, squeezing your heart until it feels like it pops. A few more notifications followed the initial, going off at a nervous pace. The sender's agitation is abundantly clear.

You think to ignore it. You think to forget whatever you read and go about your married life as normal, but it gnaws at you. A violating parasite crawls around the wrinkles of your brain, biting, chewing, and consuming your perturbed consciousness. It leaks out of you in tears, sorrow, and a pervasive bodily ache.

Eventually, your hand finds your phone thrown to the ground and claims it in your vice grip before reading the incoming messages.

Unknown number: I read her messages

Unknown number: it’s been months it looks like

Unknown number: me and her have been married for less than a year

Unknown number: I won’t be too affected by this

Unknown number: I think

Unknown number: but are you ok?

No. No, you weren’t.

Unknown number: if it’s ok, I’d like you to meet with me.

Unknown number: see the proof in person.

You know you'd be stupid to meet with a stranger you connected with through the phone. He could be a liar, murderer, stalker—you have no idea. However, if he's telling the honest truth, he'd be the only person right now who would understand your excruciating pain more than anyone else. He'd serve as proof that the life-sucking sensation coursing through your body is a sad reality, and facing that terrifies you.

However, reality manifests as a beautiful man. A beautiful man with a heart-shattering expression that makes you want to pick him up in the palms of your hands to tend to his invisible wounds.

You're perplexed. You weren’t sure if there was love that existed for you, but for him, love should’ve been guaranteed. He looks as if he deserves every star dedicated to him for every second he breathes. Every tear he shed. Every word he spoke. In another world, he’s someone’s muse, not someone’s victim of infidelity. Surely. Surely this was all some misunderstanding.

“Did you want that decaf?”

Your eyes flutter in his direction, registering the spoken words on his tongue. Sputter on your lips, you work the softness of your jaw in a gentle nod and swallow the words hitch down your throat. He splays a warm, but small smile, and gets up to head in the direction of the counter. His long, broad stature leans against the edge. His chest bellowing out of his diaphragm and out his lips, he softly mutters the drink orders to the cafe attendant.

Your eyes bat gently, observing him in slow motion, a coiling sensation in your gut. You exhale out of your nose in retreat, averting your gaze to your lap, jolting yourself out of the sudden fixation. You know you shouldn’t have been doing that. You have better self-control than that. Now was not the time for that.

His footsteps retreat toward you, and he settles your drink by your side of the table. Your eyes flit up at him, gaze descending as he modestly takes a seat across from you. His wide-toothed grin is polite but noticeably strained. "Thank you for meeting with me." His hands fiddle in his lap, visibly as disoriented as you are.

“I’m glad you texted me,” You respond cordially, “Those pictures were a hard pill to swallow…but I’m glad I saw them.”

He dryly chuckles, a solemn look of anguish etched on his face. "Yeah, I felt the same way."

Accepting the drink, you bring it against your lips. Despite being decaf, it proves as bitter as regular—an unexpected comfort, considering the usual presence of excess cream and sugar have felt overwhelming lately. The bitterness numbs your tongue, and you sense it traveling in a lump down your throat as you swallow.

"Sorry." His apology shakes you into clarity, his eyes quivering as they settle on you. "I'd seen photos of you—finding your husband, of course, because I didn't—um, okay. It's just strange to see you in front of me. Makes everything more..."

“Real,” You say, completing his sentence. “Yeah.”

His adam’s apple shifts in a nervous gulp. “How long were you together?”

“Five years. If you counted the last four,” you answer with a lingering chuckle. “I had an idea that’s what he was doing, but ideas are harmless until you’re true.”

“That’s—wow—impressive.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Don’t. Considering the circumstances, it’s nothing to be proud about. If I had known earlier I would’ve shoved those papers in his face a long time ago.”

“But you’re so…strong. How do you get like that? After five years?”

You shrug, shrinking under his charged gaze, glistening in a sheen of genuine admiration. “Practice. If you stayed a little longer, you’d learn it too.”

“I don’t think I could’ve survived that.”

“Well, you contacted the spouse of the man sleeping with your wife. That’s pretty fucking strong.”

He’s bashful again, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your eyes. All he can do is nod in response, not used to attention so warm and encouraging. So unlike Ami.

He discovers that you are far less deserving of betrayal than he had imagined. Your eloquent and poised conversations impress him, and the admirable lightness in your solemn tone adds to your appeal. From the moment he became aware of your existence, he felt compelled to meet you. While he initially rationalized it as a civic duty, there's an underlying motive that continues to fester in selfish desire, even when the topic of divorce is raised.

“Can we do this again?” he suggests timidly, hopeful you’ll agree. "Until the papers are final, at least. It’s kind of freeing talking about this with someone in the same shoes.”

Your lips softly curl up at the ends. “I’d like that.”

There's a substantial list of tasks to tackle before everything is finalized. You imagine how grueling it’d be to navigate through this by yourself and appreciate you weren’t alone on this. Recognizing that he's undergoing the same steps in grieving his failed union, it feels almost instinctive to join forces. Partners in divorce, each navigating the end of each of their own unhappy marriages.

“Sorry, I just had to get something.”

You had come remarkably close, and the opportunity to accompany him home practically fell into your lap. Stepping into his space for the first time, you were immediately captivated by the photos adorning the walls, each one capturing her in a stunning, large white gown. In the enlarged picture on the wall, she radiates happiness, her joy undoubtedly amplified by standing next to Seokmin, who stands tall and sharp, his pride and happiness evident. As your eyes take in the scene, you find yourself amazed by the sheer elegance and warmth emanating from the photograph. A couple epitomizing love. So why—

“Found it,” he says, his fingers clutching the file between them. His gaze lands on your location, and as he registers the reason for your silence, he adds with a chuckle, “Oh, yeah. Ha-ha. That was really expensive.”

He approaches you with deliberate steps, both of you studying the wedding portrait together. "A thousand pictures, three hours editing, five hours of sifting through them, and a couple of grand later, this turned out to be the best one," he remarks. There's a hint of wry humor in his voice as he adds, "She jokes that it was the best thing to come out of this marriage. Now, I'm starting to wonder if it was a joke at all."

“Well, it’s so fucking amazing work. You look incredible.”

He acknowledges your sincerity. Naturally. It's a meticulously composed photo with thousand-dollar lighting, and makeup seamlessly blended into both of their skin. It was crafted to be admired, despite the evident imperfections concealed beneath the surface. Nonetheless, Seokmin's cheeks color at your commentary, a warmth palpable to the touch. "Thank you. Um, shall we?"

As you invest more time with him, the lingering question persists. Seokmin embodies perfection in every conceivable aspect, surpassing the qualities your husband ever possessed. The puzzle remains: Why? Why would his wife betray someone so genuinely kind and undeserving of such disloyalty? The enigma of her actions deepens with each passing moment spent in Seokmin's company.

Had you been in her shoes, you would grant him whatever he desires. The lengths you'd take to show your deep appreciation for him would extend endlessly, reaching far and lasting indefinitely. With complete faith, there wasn’t one damn rotten bone in his body, and he’s proven time and time he’s a sweetheart in and out. And although you were the one you were lucky enough to take his wife’s place, the least you could do is show him the courtesy of a friend. A friend who is cultivating feelings that start to transcend the simplicity of amicability.

“You know I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal like this.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t feed my award-winning dish to just anyone.”

“It’s delicious. Like every bite filled with a mother’s hug. The best thing I ever put in my mouth.”

The way he says that tightens you in knots as you scrape off the remaining bit of your meal into the trash, letting the hot water from your faucet run down your plate. “A-an honor.”

You hear the scratch of his chair dragging on the floor as his padded feet approach you. “Let me help you with that.”

“You don’t need to—“

“You made dinner, let me in your humble abode, the least I can do as a guest.”

As your eyes follow the sequence of events, his long limbs gracefully extend over, prompting you to delicately set aside the dish with a self-assured smile. "You've done plenty. Let the host handle things."

He chuckles in disbelief. “Come on.”

“Stop it.” You giggle, splashing water at him.

He scoffs, splashing back. “You stop. Come on.”

“Seokmin!”

In a playful exchange, you engage in a subtle power struggle while fighting over the task. As he attempts to take control, you defy his dominance, completing the task before he can assert authority. Tension mounts as you press him against the counter, feeling the taut surface of his abdomen beneath your palm. A breathless moment ensues, and you slowly withdraw, leaving the air thick with anticipation.

You don’t notice the expression on Seokmin’s face when you unintentionally feel him up. The patter in his chest when it stroked down as you let go. The twitch in his pants when he notices your eyes are still glued to his body. He wishes he’d stop you from resisting, let you have him where you wanted. Move your body against him.

But you're married, just like him. Albeit unhappily, but he must've confused trauma bonding for affection, lust, and longing. He wasn't actually falling for you; he's just lonely. Needy. Horny.

Seokmin just needs a good wank. A proper one with mood music and the lotion that smells like lavender or roses. All the romantic shit because that’s the type of guy he was. A romantic.

The challenge is doing it without your face popping in his head.

For the longest time, he’d only thought of his wife. Although met through an arrangement via each other's parents, he thought he could love her, live with kids of their own, and live a happy life. For a moment he thought it was possible.

And then it came sex. Again and again, it would fail. And the smaller, the smaller he’d become. Like a shitty moldy piece of gum on the back of her shoe. Fuck it if she made him feel smaller than he should’ve. He knows he doesn't deserve it, and maybe it’s why your presence is so comforting.

A breath of fresh air. A change of pace.

The attempt at forgetting your face with his hand around his cock becomes a failed one, spreading his failure all over his abdomen as he slumps in his chair. his nipples stand erect in the cool draft.

He feels the need to see you again, a necessary step in clearing his conscience.

“Seokmin!”

“Hey! Ready for apartment shopping?”

“You bet. I just have one more thing to get in my bedroom. My wallet, it’s somewhere in there. Would you mind helping?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Uh…”

Entering the house, he allows the door to gently close, his footsteps echoing softly behind you. Observing the calm chaos of the room, he notices you tending to one side of your bedroom, and he contemplates, “In a drawer maybe?”

“Maybe? Just anywhere but—Wait, not there!”

He heeds your warning a second too late, pulling open a drawer revealing an array of toys too numerous to count—silicone, glass, plastic, and leather alike. The drawer houses an endless collection of items, all meticulously encased as if stored for display. One in particular catches his eye—a beautiful set of restraints that appear velvety soft to the touch. "Holy—"

Swiftly, you close the drawer, shielding its contents from prying eyes, and gently push him aside. “Hey! Don’t judge. He’s always been one buy these things, not like anything’s wrong with them. They were fun, at first at least.”

“I’m not judging, but backtrack. Ropes?”

Hesitancy singes the tip of your tongue. “He said silk ties slip off too easy to escape out of.” Your hand rests on your other wrist, reliving the memory somewhat fondly until it sinks down in your gut. “Rope leaves burns to remember how they felt. Like I said, they were fun. Until it became only what he wanted. Because it has always been what he wanted, and when I wouldn’t give it to him anymore, well…we all know how he handled that.”

“...Yeah I do.”

For the first time, a glimpse of sadness graces your expression in Seokmin’s presence, as if your relationship bears an unspoken sorrow. The furrow of your brows accentuates the subtle sighs and mild frown that follow. He yearns to soothe those features, wishing to impart a gentle reassurance, to convey it wasn't your fault if that was a concern. However, silence prevails as he observes you swiftly refocus on finding your missing item.

“Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

Complying with your request, Seokmin sifts through your belongings, eventually retrieving the misplaced wallet from beneath the bed. Announcing his discovery, you release a breath of relief and claim it back at your fingertips. He prizes the brief smile on your face before proceeding with the rest of today's plans.

The search for fortitude after it was all over went as well as expected, with most encounters with potential sellers assuming that you were looking for places with Seokmin, not just with Seokmin as each other's company. After the fifth apartment for sale, correcting them becomes less of an effort, and you find yourself momentarily forgetting that all of this is for your own distant, separate futures.

You arrive home, starved and parched from your scheming and Seokmin, ever the gentleman, playfully suggests that he takes charge of the evening’s dinner. You, as usual, politely resist, already taking the initiative a step before he could, following his lighthearted protests. Eventually, you compromise, allowing him the duty of gathering produce from the fridge and placing them on the kitchen island.

The absence of your spouse during these dinners has become a common occurrence, allowing his presence replaced by a string of repetitive excuses that you could only assume were to cover up his ongoing affair. It’d still leave a resonating ache in the pit of your stomach, but you’d be lying if you said the sensation hadn’t dulled since meeting Seokmin.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said it hurt.”

“What did?”

"The ropes—if that's okay to ask! I—" His cheek flushes into a furious red, and bashfully, the surface of his palm covers the lower half of his face. Chuckling anxiously to himself, a glimpse of regret becomes evident on his face. "You know what? Never mind."

“No, what? You can ask, it's ok.”

“It’s just. I’m just a little curious.”

“Yes?”

“Being tied down for you was…arousing?”

You softly giggle, “For a bit it did. That’s when I still had a bit of input.”

“When did that stop?”

“Maybe when he got frustrated. I became less willing to do it. I wanted to try other things and he wouldn’t budge either.”

“...Like what?”

“He was always the one in control,” You shrug, “Wanted to try it out for once. He felt insulted.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know right.” You shake your head. “He was different since. And so was sex. The little we had anyway.”

“...Ami said I was a pussy.”

You pause in your movement, turning your head towards him, observing as his head drops past his shoulders.

“She said I wasn’t a real man. ‘Out of all the men I was arranged to marry, why was it the most pathetic one?’”

You meet eyes, recognizing quiet sorrow in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is. I could be stronger, I could be manlier.”

“You’re very manly, Seokmin,” you reassure.

“Really?”

“Of course you are.”

“...Even if I wondering what it’s like to have those ropes to tie me down? Am I still manly then?”

A surprised and nervous tone colors your words as you feel a response catch in your throat. "Are you serious?"

“Gravely,” he says without thinking. "But, you know, it's just a random thought—"

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

“Are you serious?”

“Gravely,” you imitate, grinning.

He gives a tentative nod, the blush now unhidden by his hands. "Okay."

Guiding him back to your bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm ambiance. You open the drawer he inadvertently discovered earlier today, its contents revealing an array of intriguing items. With deliberate care, you extract the rope from its designated spot, feeling its smooth texture under your fingertips. The room holds a hushed anticipation as you methodically untangle the rope, each loop a dance of shadows and highlights. You observe Seokmin's gaze, noting the subtle shifts in his expression as he follows the intricate journey of each strand unfurling in the dim light.

A subtle fire charges the air, palpable in the way his breath catches and his eyes widen. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression, a nervous anticipation that surfaces as he watches the rope unfold. The gravity of the situation settles in, and you can sense his apprehension growing with each meticulous loop you release. It's as if the sight of the rope carries an unspoken weight, stirring a mixture of curiosity and anxiety in him.

“You look nervous.”

He takes a pronounced swallow, hand coming around his other wrist. “You’ve never done this before, right?”

“I've seen it enough times to mimic it.” You walk towards him cautiously, the subtle rustle of the rope in your hands. "Do you trust me?"

Hesitantly, he nods.

Obediently, he pins his wrists to one another, your fingertips coming around to loop around either one. As you secure the knot, you notice the subtle tension in his shoulders, curiosity playing across his features. The room is filled with a quiet intensity, broken only by the hushed sound of your movements.

"How’s that feel?" You ask, adjusting the knot.

"Kind of tight?"

"Oh, sorry–"

"No, don’t be. It’s interesting," He replies, fingers exploring the texture of the material.

"Interesting, like it feels good?"

"I think so, but…"

"But?"

He hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the window. "How different is it tied to something? Like a bed frame?"

“Pretty different. You have a bit of control with just your wrists tied. When it’s against something…like a bed frame…there’s none of it. You’re kind of helpless.”

“Helpless,” he echoes breathlessly.

“Is that something you want to try too?”

Silently, he nods, his eyes flickering with anticipation. As you start to untangle the ropes, you internally count your breaths, and then lead him to the bed. Your knee sinks into the soft cushion of the mattress, sensing Seokmin's deliberate movement as he gradually takes over the center. His eyes, wide and lucid, silently observe your actions. A concentrated, half-lidded scrutiny follows as you maneuver between his legs, your heart pounding in your chest. With determination, you reach for one wrist, swiftly pinning it to one corner.

As the rope winds its way around his wrist, a subtle shiver courses through him, betraying the nerves that have taken residence beneath his skin. His hands, once steady, now exhibit a discernible tremor, a physical manifestation of the anxious anticipation that tightens every muscle. Then it comes to his second wrist. Each loop seems to tighten the grip of uncertainty, and you can almost hear the accelerated beat of his heart as the binding becomes more tangible. The quiet room amplifies the rustle of the rope, echoing the unease that dances in his eyes, creating a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

His eyes flutter at the pace of his heart, swallowing tension built in his throat, and a shallow breath escapes him. You limply part from your work, reluctant to meet his eyes, as yours bat erratically. Your lips part to speak, but all that escapes is a breathless awe, hardly forming an unsteady “T-there.”

You find yourself unable to avert your gaze, observing as he grapples with the situation. The sight of his struggle seems to compound his embarrassment, evident in his feeble attempts to break free—though it becomes apparent that success is an elusive feat, even with earnest effort.

The memory of your first time is what initially pops into your mind. You remember how anxious you felt–feeling your heart race even between your legs as if it were possible–yet elated to do something so different, and then the pleasure. The sensation of feeling everything at once. Sweat pilled on your skin humiliatingly, only your cries used to fight back. You haven’t thought positively about that experience until now, seeing it reflected onto Seokmin.

“They are really hard to get out of actually,” he chuckles defeatedly, but not so much so that doesn’t find himself enjoying the circumstance.

A nervous hum leaves your nose as you exhale, clenching the arousal between your legs cautiously. “Good now you know. So I guess—”

“I’m really helpless like this…can’t even get out of these on my own.” You perceive the audible constriction in his throat, a subtle indication that becomes evident as he articulates his words. Although unsteady, he isn’t scared. Something else flickers in his vision. Something that almost scares you.

Ultimately, you quietly acknowledge him with a mumble, reaching over to one side to undo your knots, but he stops you with a single word. With your hands trembling, your focus intensifies on the intricate task of trying to loosen the binds that restrain him. Your gaze remains fixed on the knots, avoiding direct eye contact, as the palpable tension in the room mirrors the shackles you’ve put yourselves in: his being physical, while yours are mental.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

“You look at me differently now don’t you?”

You shake your head apprehensively, your grip tightening around the ropes, half-expecting them to bind you physically, yet realizing it's the thoughts swirling in your mind that truly threaten to restrain you. “Why do you say that?”

There’s a soft scoff that makes its way to your ears, registering his disbelief. “You can’t even meet my eyes…are you embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” He asks poignantly.

“I’ve never been in this out position before.”

“In control?”

You take a moment to yourself to breathe, dropping your head, still gripping around the rope lethally. “Seokmin.”

“Look at me,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’d feel less shameful if you do… what are you thinking?”

You raise your head and meet his eyes, a blend of vulnerability and determination flickering in your gaze. A myriad of words that could have been spoken in response swirl within you, yet each one remains submerged, reluctant to surface and make its presence known. The weight of unspoken sentiments lingers heavily, creating a palpable silence between you.

In the quiet intensity of the moment, his fingertips hand in the charges air, sifting to move between your digits and lock them together. The unspoken tension between you both transforms into something tangible, hanging in the air like a delicate thread, on the verge of snapping. As your eyes linger on one another, a mutual message is exchanged, and without a word, the distance closes.

The kiss is gentle at first, before the heat of his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, softly pulling it towards him. Your lip lock only intensifies as your body presses against his, responding to the desperation that has woven its way through the conversation. The room, once filled with fervency, now holds the soft symphony of a connection finding its place.

As the moment stretches, you muster the strength to finally pull away, cognizant that the power to do so rests solely with you. A gentle reluctance permeates the atmosphere, tinting it with a subdued pink rather than the earlier flickering intensity of red, as you gradually draw back.

Your gazes linger for a fleeting moment, exchanging unspoken promises and silently acknowledging the connection that perhaps shouldn't have been forged. The room retains the echo of the shared intensity, leaving both of you contemplating the significance of what had just transpired.

You release yourself from his touch, the sensation lingering on your skin as your mind wanders, assessing the unfolding actions and the potential consequences. However, despite your attempt at detachment, his words persistently weave through the corridors of your thoughts, rendering any escape from their influence seemingly impossible. “You like being in control?”

You eventually nod.

“Act like it.”

“How?” You question, eyes searching for guidance.

“However you want?”

You seize a fleeting moment, the world around you momentarily suspended, as you deliberate, attempting to release the grip of your inhibitions. The soft murmur of your surroundings becomes a distant echo, drowned out by the internal dialogue that unfolds as you grapple with the decision to unshackle yourself from the mental constraints that have held you captive. It's someone else's job now, not yours. After a thoughtful pause, you finally exhale, uttering a simple but profound, "Okay."

You press yourself against him, your knees locking him at his waist. “Just don’t go whining about it. Or do.” Your hand glides over his restrained wrist, fingering over the vein revealed from his uncuffed sleeve dropping to his forearm, as your other hand claims his face. Initially soft and cool, your touch carries an understated gentleness. Yet, beneath its surface lies a latent warmth that simmers on the skin, gradually intensifying like a path of hellfire. A burgeoning confidence unfolds in you like a delicate bud blossoming into a vibrant bloom. It unfolds gradually but with a definite determination, poised to flourish. “There’s not much else you can do anyway. Isn’t that how you like it?”

"Yes," he confesses, his lungs momentarily devoid of air, the admission hanging in the space like a weighty secret reluctantly released.

The corners of your lips gracefully curl upwards, imparting a subtle but undeniable sense of amusement or satisfaction. “To answer your question earlier, being tied down does still make you manly.” Your hand runs down the length of his arm, settling against the structure of his collarbone, closing the distance between your lips and his honey-glazed skin. "I believe the epitome of true masculinity is found in the act of surrender. It's about willingly placing oneself in a position of trust, embracing vulnerability with unwavering courage."

"Really," he challenges, doubt injecting a sharp edge into his words. "You think that highly of me? Even though you’re the one that can do whatever you want with me?”

“I do.”

You pull apart from him, distancing your bodies and sinking into the bed once you find its edge. You bat your eyes back at him slowly as your hand lands on the top of your chest, releasing a slow and steady breath. “It is simply your form of expression, and in return, I’ll show you mine.”

You fiddle with your buttons, exposing skin bit by bit. Your chest heaves and your legs shift to raise your upper body, anchored by your calves and ankles. Your blouse drops down your shoulders to leave your body, and your cladded breasts are what Seokmin gravitates to first.

Seokmin’s eyes ventured from your lines, the curves once hidden underneath the barrier of your clothes, now in plain sight like art mounted for display. He processes the fullness of your thighs as they drop against your hind legs, and he doesn’t hear the whimper that makes it past his contorted lips.

Hands gripping the sheets, you crawl in prowess towards him wide-eyed until you’re between his legs once again. “Nervous?”

He takes a gulp, his voice tight. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Your fingers move similarly to before, now with your pants which have clung to your body since you’ve worn them.

Seokmin doesn’t for a moment think of a thing as the fabric pulls over your thighs, skin revealing like the first appearance of colored television, nothing short of a visual marvel. He feels gutted, grappling with his restraints. As the sight of you draws near, the longing for your touch bolsters, and an undeniable compulsion surges within him. He barely manages to make out your name in timid haste.

“I’m curious what is like for you to touch my body. How’d you stroke my skin, or caress my legs,” You softly tease, pleased to see the effect you’ve made as he visibly clenched his abdomen. “but I wonder more what it's like for you unable to do a thing as I undress myself.”

"Devastating, truly," he remarks with a chuckle, the irony hanging heavier in the air than any spoken words could convey. “I never thought I’d despise being on the receiving end of a strip tease. Emphasis on tease.”

The pants hit the floor as you shrug them off, “Well, that’s the point of tying you up. You wondered what it was like.” You grinned impishly, “Can’t say you’re disappointed because you didn’t get what you wanted”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Though, I’d appreciate it if—“ Your itching hand grazes the top of his dress shirt, finding the top button and delicately allowing it to come apart. “—if. Ahem. Uh…”

“Yes?”

“I, uh…” he never does finish that sentence, too preoccupied with every button displaced, slowly revealing the tension of his bare torso. He shivers as a brisk draft ripples through his body, his shirt with its open flaps curtaining his taut body, flexing in suspense. “I lost my train of thought…”

You softly chortle as the tip of your nail travels down his concave valleys in interest. “I bet you did.”

Inescapably, you find yourself drawing closer with only a whisper of space between the two of you. Unseen, the sound of Seokmin’s belt unravels, and his eyes widen in shock—catching him off guard. You watch him hauntingly while your hands admire him in a way he’s never even dreamt of.

You roll his erect nipples between your fingers. “Does it excite you? To get doted on? All the attention on you?”

He whimpers quietly, a sigh weakly following. “Yes.”

Your smile lifts up from one end, parting your lips curiously as you tighten your fingers. He winces with short bursts of gasps following and his legs writhe in place while his eyes gloss over in teary awe. “Like when I compliment you? Or when I’m teasing your pretty little parts?”

“Yes. Both.” You wrapped your lips on his bud, the front of your teeth grazing his sensitive skin, and you sucked in your breath. He emits the lightest, airiest of sighs and dips his lower torso into the bed. The rope's friction bit into his skin, undoubtedly causing a burning sensation, only further enticing him.

You softly scoff, leveling your face with him. Your hand glides soothingly over his cheek, cooled by sweat pilling on his forehead, now your inadvertent warmth contrasting against him. “I'm honestly surprised by you, Seokmin. If you wanted me to tie you up, you should’ve just said so. I’d easily comply.”

He nuzzles against your touch, the tip of his nose tracing the crevice of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a gentle, welcoming smile. “Don’t be. You’re under my care now.”

“…Am I?”

“Well, are you?”

He moans your name again, longing your hands against his body as you only caress his skin without so much an inkling of moving lower. “Please, that's all I want.”

“What is it you want then?” You grab his chin between your thumb and index. “Tell me everything.”

“Whatever you want to do with me.”

“And if I wanted to just play all evening?” You tested.

He nods back determined. “I’d let you.”

“If I’d sit on your face?”

His breath cuts off in his throat, losing sanity over the potential of your arousal drowning him in bliss. “I’d make sure I’m a proper seat.”

“If I don’t let you cum?”

He clenches his fists, exhaling as you meet your knee with his crotch, where a tent pitched itself right in his trousers. It moves anxiously, already submerging himself in the power of your words. “I’d wait my turn. No matter how long it takes.”

“…And if I want to milk you dry.”

“I’d give you my lifeline…I’m yours.”

In that fleeting moment, the rest of the world dissolves into insignificance. You find yourself yielding to the warmth of his gaze, entranced by the cadence of his language and the resonance of his tone. Finally, you did just what was inevitable.

As Seokmin is bare down to his skin, your hand travels down to the base of his shaft and glides up delicately to his tip. Your lips pressed generously against his collarbone, nipping at his smooth and flustered skin. Your thumb strokes over his veins, grip squeezing his girth, and inadvertently he whines out of his control.

“You’re teasing me…”

“Is that not what you wanted?” Your lips gradually trail down his chest, lowering to hover right over his length that stands mere inches away from your face. “Or are you wanting something more?”

“Of course, I want what you want. I’m s-sorry…”

The tip of his cock kisses against your lips and twitches upon contact. You feign innocence in his gaze and purse your lips. “I can’t help but think, you want me to wrap my lips around your cock. Stuff down my throat. Spill your hot cum inside me.”

“Please,” he moans.

You slot him between your lips and suck on his sensitivity. You hum his name, every syllable vibrating around his skin. He groans observing you, nearly thrusting into your mouth before you decide to slam down his thighs. “Mmh-Mhh, you know better than to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeatedly mumbles, “You’re just so pretty there.”

“Though that may be, you chose to trust me, and now I need to trust you. Behave.”

He swallows apprehensively. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll apprehend you if you don't. I have more than one set of ropes.”

Seokmin’s heart slightly twitches at that, but he decides to obey for now, hoping there’s another opportunity another day. He wouldn’t want to test his limits.

His cock has made its way between your lips once again, exploring deeper until you meet halfway down his length. With your free hand, you tend to his remaining size, feeling it pulse in your touch. His groans become the background music for his symphony of arousal, while the sensation of your hallowed cheeks tug against him.

You allow him to plunge deeper, wide eyes peering at him for his reaction, and you feel the impulsive thrust of his hips again. Only this time, you let him. You feel every inch consume you, lodged far down your airways, traveling at a needy–even desperate–pace. You shut your eyes, feeling your tears burn your skin. Ultimately, you pull out before he gets close, registering his pink cheeks and bite-swollen lips after regaining your sight. You cough away from him, catching your breath and the apology leaving Seokmin’s lips once again.

“I’m so sorry! Fuck! I–”

“I said I’d apprehend you, didn't I?”

You make good on your promise and another pair of ropes makes an appearance, pinning him at either corners of the bed and splaying him like a starfish, rendering him completely defenseless.

He deserves this, he thought, unable to resist the inexplicable thrill that coursed through him. He’d struggle against the rope had it not been for the remainder of your strip show. The slow slip of your bra strap, the release of your clasp, baring you raw in your gorgeous glory. If he had his fists, he’d be biting them. Hell, if he had any control of his limbs, he’d worship you on the very floor you walk on, crushed under you the ball of your feet, and using his hands for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Perhaps that’s why he could not help but be more aroused like a teenager discovering porn for the first time. That was the beauty of it. It was something Ami never understood. She wanted him to do it all: be the dominant partner all the time, be a one-and-done fucking machine. You are willing to explore things, even with him, and you didng make him feel small about it. He can’t help but feel eternally grateful it's with him.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he had already fallen for you the moment his eyes laid on your photos. He couldn’t believe the sight you were nor the fact that you were on the receiving end of this distress. He knew he had to meet you. He just hadn’t factor in what it’d do to him when it happens.

Even as your legs border either of his side, he’s in disbelief. Your pretty cunt stares back at him in want, aching for his presence just as he aches to explore you. He can feel the drool make it past the corner of his lips as your heat radiates off you, just before letting his raw length part your walls.

A hearty moan escapes you, and all Seokmin can think of how sweet it sounds in company with the moisture of your arousal. Your knees dig into the mattress as you adjust to his size, hips naturally grinding against him before he fully is plunged inside. Drinking in his groans, you slightly fall forward and find your grip on the bedframe, not realizing how easy it is to claim Seokmin’s hands.

A smile tugs at your lips as you delicately weave your fingers through his. You rest your forehead against his, softly cooing back at him. “You’re being so good for me.”

“Anything for you," he responds, his voice filled with a tender, intimate sincerity.

“Mmh, Seokmin...”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you like the control of your hands again?”

His eyes flicker back at you, seeing the certainty in your eyes, before hesitatingly nodding. Carefully, you release him, gently soothing the red marks on either wrist. Pleadingly, he asks for your permission to touch you, and easily you oblige, taking his hands. You guide him where he may touch, letting them stroke up your sides. You softly sigh as you let him regain his power, letting it surge through him as he replenishes feeling in his arms.

He balls your flesh in fists, pushing deeper inside you as his tongue grows more possessive. You clench around him, hands accessing his body like free real estate, playing with all the amenities. “Are you that happy? Touching me like I’m yours?”

He throws his head back, assessing his grip on you to pull you forward, giving you a long awaited liplock. He rediscovers your plush tongue, retracing its pattern as he pushes you closer against him to the best of his abilities with his contradicted ankles. He claims you from your lower back, rolling his hips against you, as your furnace-hot body intoxicates him like a drug. “I’m elated. You make me so happy. You have no idea.”

Your exuberant sounds fold over one another, building the tension off your bodies until you’ve reach their highest form. Seokmin was the first to express it. Even before he mumbles how close he is, he’s embracing you tighter as his hot breath fans down your flustered body. To that, you say the first response that comes to mind. “Cum in me.”

“W-without a—“

You tense tighter around him, legs clutching around him desperately. “Cum inside me, Seokmin.”

You get what you want in the end. The streams of white warmth painting your inside are perfection. Like bursts of ribbons in a festive air, he releases a lingering sense of ecstasy. Falling against his chest, you count his pants by the heave of his chest, drifting off from fatigue.

With the bit of energy you had left, you undo Seokmin’s knots, and rest comes easy, no matter how early into the night it still is.

You don’t remember the last time you were held like this. You don’t know if you were held ever like this. His eyes, though weary, radiate a smile that mirrors the gentle curve of his lips. A hand slides behind your head, fingers gently stroking, and his soft sighs become a melodic comfort, conveying solace without the need for words. In his presence, a profound sense of peace envelops you, creating a reluctance to part from this moment of tranquility.

Dinner, once a fleeting moment before the spontaneous decision of sex, turns into a midnight meal, a meal draped in each other comfort. Seokmin effortlessly slips into your comforting pair of sweatpants, while you envelop yourself in his once-abandoned dress shirt, a tangible reminder of the intimacy shared. Together, you concoct a pot of instant ramen, opting for the simplicity of a quick meal rather than the meticulousness of a dish crafted from scratch.

“That smells delicious,” he compliments.

“Sorry, it couldn’t be better.”

His hands find a secure hold on your body, his head gently resting over your shoulder. "It's no bother at all. Plus, you've already worked up quite an appetite."

His kisses, soft against your temple, coincide with the casual embrace of his arms around your waist. Your curves seamlessly mold into the contours of his body, like two pieces naturally falling into place, creating a comforting bond between your bodies.

“Stil, you deserve better than ramen.”

“It’s Shin ramen. It's the best of its kind. I’m more than honored.”

“You’re silly…I like that.”

“Good. I like you. I’m glad that I got to meet you.” His words are accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your hand.

You grin. “Me too…but we can’t do that again.”

“Oh, well why not?”

"Well, for now." You playfully tap his nose with a chopstick. "Let's wait until everything is done. Until we’re both free again.”

He sighs, dejected at your request. “You’re right, but…”

He effortlessly lifts you from the ground and you drop your utensils on the ground. Abruptly, he settles you onto the kitchen counter. The coolness from the marble is chilling as the surface provides a sudden, invigorating contrast to your warm skin. Startled, your eyes flutter back at him, steadying yourself with hands resting on his shoulders. You succumb to the warmth in his eyes, a honeyed allure that wraps you in the comforting embrace of his touch.

“How do you expect me to live on without you in my arms? I’ll never know peace like it.” Seokmin's voice carries a warmth that wraps around you like a blanket, one that is not weighted with darkness and anxiety, but instead laden with love and good faith.

You respond by pulling him into a tight embrace, legs playfully anchoring around his torso. A smile graces your lips as you enjoy the closeness. “A test of faith. Then we can truly enjoy each other's company.”

“I’ll be counting the days then,” he says with a smile

You persist in meeting Seokmin, navigating the divorce process until you're on the verge of its completion. Ironically, amidst the dissolution's purpose, you sense the blossoming of a new connection amid the ruins of another.

“You didn’t have to take me home. You know how risky it is.”

He sighs, squeezing your hand in his, dreading the moment you have to leave. He has grown accustomed to your presence, and every night without you feels like a painful void in his heart, as he awaits the arrival of the following morning. "I can't wait until this is all over."

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after and the day after—“

“Lord knows how we get any work done,” he giggles.

"I know, right." You let the moment linger a second longer before sharing a final embrace, stealing a kiss on his cheek as you slip away from his grasp. Through the tinted windows, you smile, aware of the blush you've ignited on his face.

Arriving home, the joy is dampened by the sight of familiar shoes. Suppressing your unease, you greet your husband with a forced smile, avoiding eye contact. "Mingyu? Honey? Is that you? No overtime tonight?

You're met with a stern expression and a decisive declaration. Devoid of warmth, he slams a stack of papers onto the kitchen counter–documents that have become all too familiar over these past few weeks.

“I want a divorce.”

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