#day 20: relentless
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Living Up to the Name
AN: This really got away from me, but it’s nandermo, can you blame me? We have a serious drought of wwdits tickle fics & like, what fucking gives they made it canon that the vamps tickle each other (or at least Nandor & Lazlo) & no I will not find a gif I am useless like that This one dips a pinky toe into the spicy pool, so be warned. Literally nothing happens, but bondage is involved & that’s about it. But day 20: relentless just SCREAMED nandermo & I just had to do it justice.
Guillermo was used to the odd requests the vampires would ask of him, some a little too odd, so it was no surprise that he'd become desensitized to it. Strangely enough, it was their more mundane and tame requests that threw him for a loop.
He'd just finished vacuuming the drapes (yes they needed to be vacuumed) when Nandor walked in. "Guillermo," he said, announcing his presence and grabbing his attention.
"Hello master," he greeted with a smile, one Nandor shyly returned before growing serious once more. He was doing that thing where he wanted to say something, but wanted you to be the one to prompt the conversation, so he just lingered in the room until you cracked.
"Did you need something?" he asked when Nandor didn't continue on his own.
"I've just been thinking a lot."
"Oh? What about?"
"Me, obviously." Guillermo couldn't help the amused scoff that slipped out, nor the fondly annoyed look he gave the cameras. Nandor either didn't notice, or didn't care. "Mostly about who I used to be. How I used to be able to make entire countries bend to my will. My reputation as a heartless conqueror," despite the awful words, his voice grew soft with nostalgia. "People used to fear me Guillermo. Some loved me, most hated me. But they all feared me."
Guillermo set down the vacuum attachment and turned to face him. "And do you... miss?... that?" he asked hesitantly.
"Of course I do. What kind of a question is that?" Nandor shot a look of his own towards the camera, as if to say "is this guy for real?" He even went as far as to subtly point at his familiar. Well, as subtle as Nandor was capable of. He let out a heavy sigh. "My name used to mean something. Nandor the Relentless. Now I'm just... Nandor."
"Is that really such a bad thing?" Guillermo asked, brows furrowed. Nandor rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.
"I guess not," he grumbled, lower lib jutting out in a pout and he kicked the leg of a nearby table. "But I've gone soft," he said dejectedly.
"No, no you're not soft. You're still just as ruthless as ever," Guillermo tried to comfort him, feeling incredibly awkward as he did so. But it seemed to work at least.
"You really think so?" he asked. Guillermo nodded. Nandor broke out into a wide grin, fangs on full display. "Heh, thanks. These hands used to make people scream," he reminisced, flexing his fingers. Guillermo couldn't help but stare at the movement and swallowed.
"Still do," he added before he thought better of it, eyes going wide. Nandor straightened his posture, watching Guillermo carefully. "I mean- Lazlo and Nadja get pretty loud," he quickly added as an excuse. Nandor smirked and stood up, walking over to Guillermo.
He tried to busy himself so he wouldn't have to look in Nandor's eyes. It still didn't help the flutter in his heart when Nandor towered in front of him.
"Oh Guillermo..." the tone in his voice made him snap his head up to look at him. He didn't know if the hungry look in his eyes frightened or excited him. "Did we make you feel left out?"
Guillermo fumbled for the right words. "N-no, no, I-I'm good. More than good," he stuttered.
"It's okay, no need to be embarrassed here."
"I'm not-" but Guillermo cut himself off, knowing better than to try arguing with Nandor of all people.
"It's only natural to be curious. You could've just asked to join, we totally would've let you," he flirted, making Guillermo blush. "You know, I've wanted to make you scream for mercy for quite some time." The boldness of the statement threw him off guard.
"Have you now?" he asked, voice higher pitched. Nandor must've thought it was out of fear, because he clarified.
"Oh I wouldn't be hurting you. I'd just tickle you until you begged me to stop. But I won't." Guillermo felt his cheeks heat up, his throat going dry. "It's not so bad. Just ask Lazlo.
Guillermo shook his head. "I don't- I don't need his input."
"Very well. Follow me." he gestured with a single finger for him to come along. Obediently, he followed.
He'd only ever been in their... playroom to clean it, and he certainly never thought he'd be brought back here. Never thought he'd be so willing to go either, but life is full of surprises. There were various tools and toys lining the walls and spread out on tables for display, and there were various bondage set ups to choose from.
"Go ahead, make yourself comfortable," Nandor insisted. It was a little hard when Guillermo could hear his pulse racing in his ears. He decided to play it safe, laying on the king sized bed against the wall. Nandor sat next to him, looking him up and down with a kind of excitement Guillermo didn't often see. The fact it was directed at him made butterflies flit about in his stomach.
"Good, now take off your shirt." When Guillermo only stared at him in shock, he clarified, "Trust me, it feels much better without clothes." Guillermo ducked his head and blushed.
"Okay yeah I got it," he rushed out. He took a deep breath and pulled the shirt over his head. "So I-I'm guessing you're gonna just- tie me up?" Nandor chuckled at that.
"No silly, I'm horrible at knots! We have cuffs for that!"
"Of course you do," he mumbled under his breath as Nandor retrieved them. When he came back, standing over the bed, he must've sensed the nervous energy coming off of him in waves.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he said, surprisingly gentle as he rocked back and forth on his feet. Guillermo furrowed his brows.
"What? No, you wanted this. And I mean, come on," he said, his own voice casual and almost teasing. Nandor cocked his head like a curious puppy. "It's just tickling. How bad can it actually be?" he asked skeptically and almost immediately regretted it.
"Oh you'd be surprised, my dear Guillermo," he all but purred. His heart all but skipped a beat as he laid down on the bed, raising his arms for Nandor to cuff. He did the same his his ankles, testing them to make sure they're secure but not too tight.
His hands hovered over his bare torso for only a moment before diving for the hips. Guillermo shrieked and instantly started bucking. "I thought about starting off slow, but I think we're both too eager for that," he teased, drilling his thumbs over his hip dips.
"Ihihi'm nohohot! S-slow ihihis good!" he cried through his laughter. Nandor hummed, thinking it over before agreeing.
"You're right, we have all night. Why rush things?" he asked, feral grin overtaking his features. Guillermo giggled nervously, the sound growing stronger when Nandor's hands touched down on the tender underside of his arms. Fingertips dragged ever so lightly from his wrists to his armpits, and Guillermo never knew something he could just barely feel could be so torturous. His laugh was short and breath and he was already desperately tugging on his arms. Nandor looked down at him with such adoration, hands never faltering in their movements. Up and down, up and down his arms he went, leaving goosebumps in his wake. When he finally decided to quit playing with his food, he let his hands reach his underarms, drawing lazy circles and playing with the hair.
Guillermo snorted, nose scrunched adorably as his arms flexed and strained to come down. He was barely even touching him, and Guillermo was giggling like a little school girl.
"Wow Guillermo, have you been working out?" Nandor asked when he noticed the bulging biceps on display. "You've been hiding all of this under shapeless sweaters," he lamented, reaching up to feel the muscle. Funny, he'd never known his fucking biceps were ticklish, until now that is. Nandor was just squeezing them, admiring the muscle and he was practically in stitches.
"I just lihihike sweheaters!" he yelped, arching his back. Nandor acted on impulse, having done this many times with both Nadja and Lazlo and was used to adapting to their bodily reactions. Which was why he shoved his face down onto his belly, growling and nibbling against soft skin as he shook his head, adding even more tickly vibrations to the cocktail of neurons firing in his brain.
Guillermo positively screamed with laughter, light and airy snickers turning to full on cackles in an instant. The combination of soft lips, sharp fangs, and that stupid motherfucking beard had him in an incomprehensible state. And honestly? He couldn't complain. Oh it was horrible, yes, but it was Nandor.
Speaking of, he was feeling rather proud right about now. He was unraveling Guillermo's sanity with each passing second, not only that, but he had agreed to this. The big, strong, vampire killing machine was nothing but a hysterical mess under his fingers, and it was perhaps the greatest power trip he'd felt in ages.
"Ohoho fuck oho shihihit thahahat's ahahawful!" he screeched, thrashing as much as his bonds would allow. Nandor didn't bother to raise his head up when answering, instead speaking directly into the skin and sending him into another round of quiet snickers and chuckles.
"Good, I'm not trying to be nice," he deadpanned, causing a shiver to crawl up Guillermo's spine. Nandor smirked against his stomach before grazing ever so slowly with his teeth. Guillermo swore and bucked violently, deep boisterous laughter bouncing off the walls. It tickled so much that he didn't even notice when Nandor's fangs accidentally pierced through the skin from all his squirming. He sure as hell noticed the tongue that started lapping at the puncture though.
"NAHAHANDOHOHOR NOHOHO! NOHOHO TONGUE OHOHO FUCK PLEHEHEASE!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs. Every part of him was screaming to get away, but those damn fuzzy cuffs prove effective.
To Nandor, the helpless plea might as well have been singing praise. He glanced up and managed to catch Guillermo's eye while he caught his breath, shooting him a devious wink. He shook his head, tugging on his arms.
"Nonono Nandor, whatever it is, don't-"
Nandor, of course, didn't listen, and instead, maintained eye contact as he drug his tongue across his tummy to wiggle straight into his bellybutton.
It's a good think Guillermo was laying down because he felt his legs give out, slowly losing their fight. He was full on cackling now, writhing from side to side and thrashing endlessly. Nandor flicked and swirled his tongue inside his naval, sending him spiraling closer to madness. Each thrust of his hips in an attempt to alleviate the sensation only made it grow worse as Guillermo snorted once more.
"I think you're even worse than Lazlo," Nandor mused aloud, making him blush even more.
"Shuhuhut thehe hehehell up!" he snapped, mirth masking any malice that might've been hidden in his words. Nandor gasped, forming his hands into claws and vibrating them on his exposed tummy.
"Guillermo, I am shocked! You ought to know better than to talk to your master that way," he threatened, a playfully dangerous edge to his voice. Guillermo's eyes widened.
"Ihihi'm sorry! Ihihi'm sohohorry!" he squealed when fingers began working themselves between each rib bone, bubbly snickers and snorts spilling from his mouth.
"I'm afraid sorry isn't good enough," Nandor said without an ounce of sympathy in his voice. He straddled his waist and loomed over him, anxious excitement filling him to the brim. He really hoped that Nandor didn't notice how much he was enjoying this. Which seemed unlikely, seeing as he was practically sitting in his lap.
The sound of buzzing snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at Nandor, who now held an electric toothbrush in each hand. Guillermo felt his heart sink and jump in his throat simultaneously.
They started out in his armpits, making him jolt with a loud peal of laughter. When they didn't move away, his laugh got faster and more shrill the longer the torment continued. Nandor drug the spinning brushes down his sides, relishing in every twitch, gasp and giggle. The toothbrushes made their journey back up, this time taking a detour across the expansive chest.
Guillermo's laugh got more frantic and hysterical as Nandor circled his nipples. He snorted, shaking his head and biting his lip to keep the laughter at bay. It was no use once he touched the brushes down on those sensitive buds. If Nandor thought he was thrashing before, it was nothing compared to this.
"Nahahandohohor plehehease! I ca- I cahahan't!" Guillermo begged through helpless laughter. Nandor cocked his head and hummed.
"Can't what?"
"Ihihi cahahan't tahake ihihihit," he whined, twisting side to side to try and dislodge those downright torturous spinning bristles.
"Aaawww, you poor thing," Nandor mock cooed, leaning down to whisper, "I don't care."
Nandor wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon. After all, he had a relentless reputation to uphold.
#tickletober#tickletober 2023#tickletober day 20#nandermo#nandor the relentless#guillermo de la cruz#what we do in the shadows#wwdits#wwdits fic#wwdits tickle fic#ticklish!guillermo
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strawberry
Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader
summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.
warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.
word count: 2.4k
a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.
He’s fucked you plenty of times before.
But never like this. No, never, ever like this.
He’s relentless.
His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.
It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.
Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.
No, he was pushing you past your limits.
Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.
“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”
“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”
“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”
Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.
“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.
“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”
Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”
You had been so certain that you could.
Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”
Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.
You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.
His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.
You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.
Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.
“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”
His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.
The man you belonged to, the man you loved.
Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—
“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”
Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“But Daddy, I just can’t—”
You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.
And you really, really can’t.
He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”
“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.
Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”
“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”
It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”
Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”
Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.
“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”
“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”
Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”
Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.
“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”
“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”
In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.
“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”
“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”
His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”
“For using the safe word—”
Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”
Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”
“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”
“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”
“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”
“I should’ve listened to you.”
He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”
You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”
“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”
“Really? You promise?”
Joel holds up his pinky.
“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.
“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”
You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.
“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”
“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”
“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”
You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”
Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.
You trace his collarbone with your index finger.
“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”
“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”
“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”
He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”
You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”
There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.
Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”
The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.
My good girl.
My perfect girl.
I’m s’proud of you.
I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.
After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.
“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”
You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”
“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”
“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”
Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.
He knows that. Of course he knows that.
It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.
You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.
“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.
“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”
“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”
You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.
“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.
“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.
“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”
You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.
“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.
Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”
You stop him and point to the empty bowl.
“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”
He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.
“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.
“Too late.”
divider credit to @saradika 🍓
#tw daddy kink#tw: daddy kink#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller one shot#joel miller drabble#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader
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#the bots are fucking relentless#I’ve gotten probably 20 new bot followers in the last 2 days#blocking spree!
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let it snow [joel miller]
It's cold on the trail. Joel keeps you warm.
12 days of pedro masterlist | my masterlist
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags/warnings: an early winter smattering of daddy kink, feel free to picture game!joel or show!joel here, post-outbreak, jackson!joel, christmastime fuzzies, soft old man!joel, self-indulgent age gap (20s/50s), protective!joel, christmas tree hunting, hiking, sex in an apocalypse, snowball play(?), fingering, frostbite does not exist in this universe, thigh fucking, dirty talk, ellie loving dinosaurs, snowball fights, a joel who enjoys what little peace life brings him
word count: ~ 5.3k
read on ao3!
a/n: hi, lovelies - this fic is my contribution to @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro celebration! everyone please check out the masterlist linked above to check out the other works from all of these amazing authors!! thank you endlessly to my parents @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for beta'ing this fic and reassuring me every step of the way - i love you both to the moon and back. i hope you enjoy and as usual, please mind the tags and please tell me what you think!! ❄️
super cute dividers by @saradika-graphics!!
Fall comes on slow. The leaves begin to bleed orange from the arteries. The air crackles with bright, cold wind that bites and pokes. Debris crunches underfoot and the trees shed their lustrous coats. It’s nothing like the onset of winter in Jackson—the downward crash of an overnight snowstorm that crests too quickly for the residents to prepare.
It's a crystallised, overrefined flurry of soft flakes that gather on thatched rooftops and bury the barren, browning garden beds in the western corner of the village. It’s a nighttime assault of gnashing wind carrying fractals of ice and snow, and before most are awake, Jackson is snowed in.
The children are thrilled. All of them too small to have known anything but the walls of the town, they burst from their homes, half-zipped coats and bright-and-early tummy-rumblings and wondrous impatience, to stick out their tongue and catch the still-falling snowflakes. Parents and caretakers and teachers straggle, still pulling on their own boots and coats, in the effort to stay close to their charges. Snowballs are packed together and hurled from behind fortified walls of snow; passers-by are pulled unwittingly into the two-sided, relentless barrage; and the shrieks and cries crackling into the dead white air are born from the watery womb of promise, not terror.
There’s some joy yet to be found in this world.
He isn’t participating in the frozen-water war, but he’s watching from the margins, leaning against the wall of the schoolhouse with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes hawklike as he observes your every move.
A group of young girls has inducted you into the battle and now you’re hiding with one of them behind a wall, packing a tight ball of snow in your hands, barely protected by your threadbare gloves. He can see the grip of the cold on your body, the way your breath circles above your head, a silvery halo. He can see the slight shivers that start in your lower spine and tremble their way up to the back of your neck, and he can see the phantom imprint of his hand resting there, warming your nape, curling his callused fingers around your brain stem and guiding you the way he liked. He can see your gentle touch not only in your hands but in your smile, in the soft application of snow to the top of the wall as it begins to melt, in the sweet curl of your mouth as you help a child who has fallen to their feet.
Swiping an accumulation of snow from the child’s nose with your thumb, you mouth some words he cannot see. The child sniffs happily and wraps their arms around their mother’s leg.
You sneak away from the barrage of snowballs and blow some warm air into your cupped hands. He shifts off the wall and begins to prowl toward you.
When he’s close enough, when no one is around nor awake enough to notice, pulls you into the alley between the schoolhouse and the theatre.
His mouth captures your surprised exhale, stealing the visible puff of warm air for himself, swallowing it down as he pries you open for him. His hand rediscovers the slow, warm pleasure of its resting place on the back of your neck, gently steering you, unkindly pinning your body to the wall.
He feels the itch of your gloves as you cup his face, and his other hand lifts to circle around both of your wrists, idly pressing them beneath his heavy coat, against his heart. It thuds strongly, pouring its rhythm into the grooves of your palms.
He crowds you, making you small, his desire for this closeness prodding your inner thigh. You go oh-so easily, the gruff sounds he spills into your mouth tapping, chiselling, knocking down each vertebrae. Carefully, with the slide of his warm, wet tongue along yours and the greedy assault of his mouth, he shapes you for himself and turns you into the pliant little thing he needs you to be.
You moan softly into his mouth, and his answering groan is something rabid. Your spine curves to him, gravitational pull, wooden slats of the building at your back tugging the fabric of your coat. He will kiss you until you’re breathless and preening under his touch because it’s what he always does. He will inculcate you with the knowledge that you’re for his eyes only.
When he pulls away, he watches you chase his mouth with lidded eyes and kiss-bruised lips, and he smirks. His hand moves to your head, gently smoothing down your crown to your jaw, the way one tenderly pets a kitten.
“Got you somethin’.”
You raise your brows. “You did?”
“Mhm.” He nudges his nose against yours and relishes the smile you give him—eyes crinkling at the corners, irises reflecting glistening sky. “Open your mouth for me first. Go on, now.”
You obey, letting your tongue loll out, more from habit than anything. Still, he’s pleased, unfurling the hastily-wrapped paper package in his pocket and placing the small square of chocolate on your tongue.
You close your mouth with the help of his hand on your jaw, and the gentle snap of the chocolate bleeds the melting centre down your throat, disseminating the oaky flavour on your tastebuds.
“Y’like it?”
His voice is a carving knife. You're split down the middle by his simple show of affection, spilling out into his arms, wrists still clasped in one of his big hands.
“It’s good,” you tell him. “I’ve never…”
His smile digs a thumb into your open wound. “I know. Took it from the kitchen.”
You lick your lips and swallow the rest of the melted chocolate. Joel watches the action from the moment your tongue darts out to the moment it retreats. “Maria will have your ass.”
“Hmm, Maria can tell me off much as she wants. Wanted to give you somethin' sweet.” He presses in closer, hands dropping to your hips, kneading the pad of his thumbs over your hips. You're wearing old jeans whose waistband is fraying. “What do you say?”
This is the fun part of the game you play. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, teasing, begging entrance even though he knows there isn't a world in which you would deny him. You part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue and cleaning off the taste of leather that still lingers on his skin.
“Thank you.”
He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “You wanna know what else?”
You're already leaning into his palm as he cradles your cheek, and he’s so proud of the volcanic thaw in your eyes. “What else?”
Joel reaches back into his coat pocket and places something small in your palms. It’s a smooth wooden figurine that smells faintly of sawdust and is carved in the perfect likeness of your home, which sits across the street from his.
“‘s almost Christmas,” he says, suddenly so unsure of himself as he watches you turn the little shack over in your hands. “Thought you might like—”
But you're leaping onto him like a little monkey, your mouth crashing against his. It’s all lips and teeth and tongue and he can taste the chocolate he placed there just moments ago. The chimney of your miniature home prods his chest as you hold the figure close, tucking it safely between your bodies.
“Easy, baby girl,” he says with a low laugh, not-quite pulling away, letting you lick into his mouth like a cat after milk. The scratch of his beard will leave patches on your chin and everyone will see them. He grins, tilting your head up and soothing the worried skin with soft kisses.
“I love it,” you tell him, sighing into his body, “so much. I love it, Joel.”
“Good.” He nudges his nose against your temple. “Take good care of it, now.”
You nod, scratching at the too-long hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. “How do you know that it's almost Christmas?” you ask him after a moment.
“Took a guess,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Y’know, the big tree they put up in the middle of town helps.”
You playfully tug his hair. “Asshole.”
“So goddamn mouthy. Gettin’ spoiled.”
“You're the one spoiling me,” you purr, mouthing wetly along his jaw.
Joel chuckles. “Yeah. Guess I am.”
“You know”—your voice takes on a musical lilt—“I don't have my Christmas tree yet.”
Joel lifts his brows. “You want a Christmas tree?”
You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t really remember the holidays.”
The watery shimmer under your irises reminds Joel just how much more life he's lived. You were young when the outbreak started, both parents lost to the virus before the first week was out. You’d hid under your bed for three days straight before FEDRA found you.
They’d taken you, underfed and dehydrated, to the Colorado QZ, where you spend most of your adolescence until it was bombed by Fireflies. You'd managed to sneak away before they could round you up like FEDRA had. You’d travelled with one group to the next before Jackson welcomed you.
There's a scar on your throat, just below your jaw on the right side, and another at the nape of your neck. You've been held at knifepoint, you told him in the early days of knowing one another, by the very same people who'd taken you in as one of their own. They’d offered you up as trade for some deer meat. Joel traces the mark and feels his throat constrict.
The kind of life you’d led before Jackson… He’ll make sure you never have to run again.
“Let’s get you one,” he says. “Tomorrow.”
You pull away from him to meet his eye. “Joel…”
“Tommy’s got a saw behind the bar. I can take down a tree. We’ll bring it back ‘n’ put it up in your place.”
The grin creeps up at the corner of your mouth. “You're going soft, Miller.”
Joel just crowds you back against the wall and slants his mouth over yours. He has no problem going soft when he can feel the wooden edges of his gift to you prodding the flesh of his chest. Let it pierce him.
Joel has few rules he's willing to push back on. At his age, he's lost some of his jagged edges, compromising on more. When he's got you like this, tucked into his side, wearing only his shirt, he remembers exactly why he enforces these few rules.
The light is soft in the winter; it doesn't quite penetrate his eastern-facing window the way the summer sun does. He blinks awake, feeling you shift next to him, your nose buried in his throat. Your arms are wrapped tight around his middle, one leg hoisted over his torso.
“C’mon, baby,” he grunts, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Gotta get up.”
He can feel your sleepy pout against his neck. “Mph.”
“Yeah, I know.” Joel chuckles, slumping back into the mattress. You shift so you're on top of him, your thighs bracketing his hips. Sitting up, you explore his bare chest with your soft hands, migrating down the length of his torso and his softening belly. He grabs your hips and soothes himself awake by rubbing his hands up and down your sides. The fabric of his shirt draped over your body shifts under his palms.
“I’m patrolling with Tad,” you tell him, “so we’ll have to put up the tree when I get back.”
“No, you're not.”
You cock your head. “Tommy told me—”
“Tommy doesn't know what the hell he's talkin’ about,” says Joel. “You and I get the day off. And I”—he pulls you down toward him and secures his hand at the back of your neck—“know a spot.”
Your answering hum is playful. “You know a spot. I had a couple boyfriends back in the QZ who knew a spot, too, Miller.”
“I ain't your old boyfriends,” he says with a faint growl, landing a light smack on your ass. “There’s a good trail west of here. Some trees what would look nice all done up.”
You beam down at him. Your hair is somewhat tousled from sleep and the fuzzy light haloes your head. “You aren't worried about raiders?”
“Don't think I can keep you safe?” He caresses your bare thighs, his cock interested in the warmth of you on his lap.
Your mouth fits over his, fingers threading through his hair, and Joel settles into the steady rhythm of your heartbeat fluttering against his own chest.
“I think,” you whisper, “that we're already late. Let's go get a Christmas tree.”
Half an hour later, he’s still yawning on his way to the stables and wishing he was in the warmth of his bed instead of out here in the biting cold. Joel runs his gloved palms together and fixes his rifle over his shoulder.
You, of course, are fresh-faced and early, securing the saddle over your chestnut mare Princess. Joel pats her snout and inspects your pack where it hangs on the hook nearby.
“Forgot your bandages again.”
You hum and it's music. “You always have extra. Ready to go?”
“Sure you’re not waiting for Tad?”
You gently pat your horse’s back. “Tad is terrified of you, so he's terrified of me. You're ruining my reputation, Miller.”
“That so?” Joel sidles up next to you, pushing your pack into your arms. “You got a complaint you wanna file?”
“None so far,” you say, biting down on your grin, “but there's always time. Better be careful with me.”
“I’m always careful,” Joel says into your ear. “Now go on. We got ground to cover.”
There is a method to Joel Miller’s madness. Tommy knows damn well he needs to pick his battles. But Joel will always win when it comes to you. That is where he simply does not compromise.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Tommy.”
His brother’s hands fly up, palms out, already pleading his case. “Joel, listen to me—”
Joel slaps the book against Tommy’s chest. “I don't need to hear your goddamn excuses. She doesn't go with anyone but me.”
“Listen,” says Tommy, tossing the worn leather agenda aside. “We've got people out sick, and they ain't about to go out in this cold. And you need to be with Flynn, ‘cause Christ knows he ain't trained up enough to handle anything up in those woods.”
Joel scoffs. “And Tad’s trained up enough to go with her? Don't give me that shit, Tommy. She goes with me.”
“Joel—”
“We clear?” He squares up to his brother, folding his arms over his chest.
Tommy rolls his eyes at Joel’s posturing but concedes nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll take Flynn.”
“Good.” Joel turns to leave for the stables. He’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s a strong girl,” says Tommy, “and you can't play guard dog forever.”
The snow has settled a bit in the week since the first fall. It's crystallised and hardened underfoot, packed tightly. Icicles dangle from the naked trees on the outskirts of the woods, and your breath mists. The cold penetrates your jeans and the slivers of exposed wrists where your gloves don't quite meet your coat sleeves. Hugging Joel around the middle, your body heat shudders through him.
“Snow like this is always a goddamn problem,” he mutters.
“Covers tracks,” you say.
“That's right. You do listen.”
“Well, when you give me chocolate…”
Joel veers Princess north and brings your gloved palms to his mouth so he can breathe warm air into them. You sigh your thanks, bumping your forehead into his back before returning to your vigilance as lookout. Once you're well out of the way of the city walls, it's easier to get wrapped up in the blistering wind. You bring your bandanna up over your nose and watch Joel do the same as you pass the river. It’s frozen over, not blue but a sheet of miserable white. You mourn the loss of colour as the wind nips at your skin.
“We’ll have more cover when we break through the trees,” says Joel. “Shuffle closer to me.”
You do, sliding your hips forward. Princess’s reins around one fist, he covers your hands with his other, squeezing you intermittently. His body heat helps you settle comfortably into him.
“What was your first Christmas like with Sarah?”
Joel chuckles. “She was one hell of a rowdy kid. Had to fish her out of the tree one time—only turned my back for a goddamn second.”
You smile fondly. “Thought you were gonna have to drag Ellie kicking and screaming out of that snowball fight the other day. She was a minute away from nailing your brother in the face.”
“Hmph. Asshole probably deserved it,” says Joel. “Sarah’d never hurt a fly. She saved spiders; threw ‘em outside instead of killin’ ‘em. But she’d get along with Ellie. Sometimes I look at her and see Sarah.” Joel’s quiet for a moment, guiding Princess past the tree line where the wind begins to penetrate in bursts rather than a constant stream of cold. “Do you think that's wrong?”
You frown. “No. I don't think so. Sometimes, I talk to kids in town that remind me of you. They’ll have a nose or eyes that make me think of you, and I��ll think it’s so nice that we’re all still here, still kicking. You know? There are parts of Sarah in Ellie and there are parts of that tree over there in me. When we love someone, we see them everywhere.”
Joel brings Princess to a halt about a half-mile into the woods; a trail veers off to the east next to you. He loops her reins around the branch of a tree and helps you off the horse. “Y’know,” he says, “you're too damn smart for your own good.”
“You’ll do well to remember that, Miller.” You shove your bandanna back down so it lies limp around your neck. “Now show me this spot.”
Joel failed to warn you that it involved a hike. An honest-to-fuck hike. You and your boots are used to traversing long distances, but you hadn't particularly prepared to trek through the frozen woods in December on a few hours’ sleep, a couple hours’ orgasm, and a hastily-chugged cup of coffee. Not had you prepared for an uphill hike in the brutal cold just to find a fucking Christmas tree.
If you didn't like him so damn much, you know for a fact you'd happily throttle your Joel.
Your Joel, who can't seem to find a tree that's good enough for you. Too tall, he'll say about one, won't fit inside your place. Too skinny, he’ll say about another, you could barely string lights on that.
Your lungs are burning cold. Every breath you inhale feels like swallowing needles. Your chest heaves and your cheeks are numb and you’re drawing up what's left of your resolve to give him a piece of your mind.
“Nah, not this one,” he’s saying, knocking his fist against the trunk of another tree. “It’s practically hollow. Would crumble the second we—”
“Joel, if you could find a tree you do like so we can head back and I can stop freezing to death, that would be so, so appreciated.”
Your teeth chatter the whole time, but you get your message across. Joel stops, his hand splayed against another tree, a smaller one with a decent-sized middle, and turns to face you.
“You cold, baby?”
It's not an innocent question. Around you, the wind whips at the branches of the tallest trees and crackles through the air. But Joel’s voice, slow and gravel-thick, permeates the breeze. It bites deeper, to the gums, latched in your skin. It’s warm.
No—it's hot.
Joel’s hand drops from the tree. His foot crunches the snow under his boot as he takes a step toward you.
Wordlessly, you nod.
“You had lots to say before, baby girl. Thought you wanted your Christmas tree.”
You do. Fuck, you want to go home. You want to curl up in his bed with another cup of coffee and warm yourself up with his body. But Joel is staring at you, eyes hard, rubbing his gloved hand over his mouth, and the alternative now feels much more tempting. “Uh-huh.”
“I think you should see for yourself,” he says, “whether or not you want this one. Go on.”
He's playing some game. He’s ringed with silvery light, a soft and hazy glow backlighting his longer hair, threaded with grey, his body so broad, solid, strong—
There’s none of your Joel in the way he stands. This is the Joel who’s used to following orders. This is the Joel he never lets you truly see: the man who has seen so many more years, seen so much more of the world.
You pass him, hiking farther up the trail, to inspect the tree. It is decent; just taller than you, but thick enough to stay upright, plush with needles. A gentle tug at your scalp, a puff of warm air on your cheek, the dizzying weight of him at your back. He’s twirling a lock of your hair between two gloved fingers.
“You like it?” he says gruffly, his mouth mere inches from your ear. The telltale tingling begins in your core and you swallow hard.
“Joel, I didn’t mean to—”
“Shhh. None of that. I wasn’t thinkin’, sweetheart.” He nips at your earlobe, hands trailing down your body, underneath your heavy coat, sitting warmly on your hips. “Gotta keep my girl nice ‘n’ warm. Got all caught up in my own head, thinkin’ like a carpenter. Let me make it up?”
He loves so selflessly that it can feel bizarrely like greed.
Sometimes, you forget that he’s so much older. That he lived his own way of living for a long time before you came along, that he knows this planet like that back of his hand, that you can’t even begin to name a country or a food or a song that FEDRA didn’t teach you. That you’ve only just begun to experience the terror and the pain that’s engulfed this world for so long.
Joel Miller’s lived a long life. He’s choosing to spend these moments with you, in the cold, dead woods, picking out a Christmas tree. For as long as he’s been waking up with you, his girl, he’s wanted you longer. He’s tired. He’s old. But he’s finally getting to choose.
He’d like to think he deserves a bit of choice after all this time. So, again, he comes back to you, like the last time and the last, spreading his fingers over your body and cupping you, molten gold, in his hands.
Settle down, his brother told him a few years back. You deserve this, Joel. To just… settle down, if you can ever find a way.
You’re his way. He intends to make it clear.
“Need to hear you say yes, baby,” he says, shifting your hair aside, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck where it’s warm and quiet and smells of the coffee he always makes you.
“Yes,” you whisper, reaching back to fix your hand at the nape of his neck and glue him to you. “Please. Please, Joel.”
He grins, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw. He steals every one of your heartbeats for himself.
“All right,” he says. “We’ll get this one.”
Eyes lidded, you watch over your shoulder as Joel fiddles with the button of your jeans and yanks down your panties with them, now hanging limply off your knees.
“Joel!” you gasp. The cold air bites your thighs, your ass, your poor, slick pussy, as he unwraps his present. Playfully squeezing your ass, he grinds his clothed front against you.
“Yeah, baby?” he mumbles, the smug bastard, pinning you to the tree by his strong hips, your fingers splayed on the trunk. Above you, pine needles flutter down to the ground around you, but the trunk doesn't budge.
It is a good tree.
“‘m cold,” you manage, putty in his hands, under the sweet, slow kisses he's pressing to your jaw.
Your petulant whine rivals the pitch of the wind off the mountain trail. The whistling air shrieks. The hard weight at your back absconds with the warmth it brought you, and he's bending to one knee, packing a not-quite spherical ball of snow in his gloves.
“You’re cold?” It doesn't sound like a question and you're nodding anyway, your cheek scraping the bark of the fir tree. It smells of terpenes and the shingles of bark bleed resin.
“I’m so cold, Daddy.”
He stands, and a huge glove is caging your ribs, a bearded cheek nuzzling your temple. “Let’s see, baby girl. Open wide.”
He brings his other hand between your exposed thighs and, lips prying at the corner of your mouth, cups the feebly-formed snowball against your pussy.
“Daddy,” you gasp, writhing away and grinding into his hand all the same, your mouth open in a long, pitiful cry. Your silvery breath ascends in a long-limbed dance with his own.
The snow melts in moments, rubbed firm into the scorching heat of your body, but you feel the biting cold against your clit as if it were pulled between a set of pearly teeth.
“See?” There’s a cruel tone of mocking in it and you preen like it’s a sweet lullaby. “Nice ‘n’ warm.”
He mouths at the crook of your neck, hot and wet, tongue dipping into the junction between your ear and your jaw, where it’s soft and does not hurt when he bites down.
The once-packed snow, now tepid and formless, drips down your thighs, and the air is so cold it begins to freeze again. Joel hears your helpless moan and takes pity, unbuckling his own jeans just enough to pull out his cock.
But he doesn't slot himself at your needy hole and push slowly inside you the way he did last night. No—he guides the leaking head between your thighs and closes your legs around him, the length of him flush to your cunt.
“Ohhhh, fuck.” You shiver, dropping your forehead against the tree, as Joel lubricates his cock with the melted water of the snowball and begins to fuck himself between the cushions of your thighs. “Joel… oh my God, Daddy—”
He grunts, taking it slow, the wet slide of his cock electrifying, cold and warm all at once, his body caging yours against the tree. With every thrust, the head of his cock catches on your clit, and he gasps in your ear, nibbling your exposed skin. You grasp at his hair, the hand that presses down on your belly, fixing him to you.
“That's it, baby. Goddamn, you feel so good. So fuckin’ soft, just for me, all for Daddy, right, baby girl?”
“Yes, yes! I’m yours, all yours, please…” Your thighs twitch when his cock drags along your clit once more, and it's so good—but it's not enough.
“I know,” groans Joel, lowering your joined hands to your clit and rubbing slow, aching circles over your slick pearl. A strained moan rumbles in your chest and your head grows heavy, falling back on his shoulder. The pleasure, white-hot and insistent, makes you forget all about the cold air savagely biting off chunks of your skin. It's all Joel. “I know, baby girl. That feel good?”
“Mmmm,” you manage, breathless and panting, your exhales swirling up into the air and disappearing in the trees. He keeps your hands joined, working in tandem to pleasure your needy clit. “Mhm, so good. Just like that.”
Joel nods into the crook of your neck, keeping the pressure steady on your clit as he continues to get himself off between your legs. “My pretty girl, so cold,” he rasps, “so needy. Y’know I’d get you anything you wanted.”
You nod vigorously, wetting his cock with your arousal, gloved fingers slick on your pussy. The rough grind of the leather closes an electrical circuit up and down your body. Joel Miller has always known how to make you feel safe, cared-for—sensations you'd never known before Jackson. With him, you're glutted, satiated. With you, he’s begun his long winter’s task of settling down.
“Let go for me, baby,” he says, taking your jaw between his teeth as he feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up. “C’mon, baby girl, let me feel it. Get yourself all warm with me.”
He rubs your clit faster until you're seizing, core tensing, your mouth open in a long, low cry that echoes down the trail. Joel talks you through it, good girl, that’s it, I know it’s a lot, honey, just let go, and your fingers flex, trapped in his, as you come until your legs are trembling.
Joel hums like he's satisfied, his hips pummeling into your backside in stuttering thrusts that indicate he's coming, too. “You gonna let me come, baby girl?” he says, baring his teeth against your cheek. “Gonna forgive me?”
“Yesyesyes! Fuck, you’re so good. Please come for me, Daddy, please!”
“Fuck, baby, I will. I will.” And he does—stuffing his cock between your thighs, it begins to pulse beneath your cunt, spilling hot cum all over your legs, your pussy, the tree he’s pinned you against. All the while, he holds you tight, his mouth greedy on you, words coaxed into your ears that aren't meant for another soul.
“You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine.” He's rambling as he comes down, spurts of cum still dribbling from his cock down your thighs. “Goddamn perfect.”
You shiver as the cold begins to seep back in through your skin, even as Joel helps pull your jeans back up over your ass. It's a bit uncomfortable, feeling the slide of his cum on your legs underneath the denim, but you smile anyway, letting him guide you to face him, your foreheads pressing together.
“I like this one,” you tell him. Joel laughs, bringing your mouth to his for another kiss.
“Dude, where the fuck did you get this?”
You look over your shoulder at Ellie, who inspects your miniature figurine, now with a home just inside your foyer.
“Joel gave it to me,” you tell her.
“Whooooa. You think he could make me a dinosaur?”
You turn to Joel, who's nursing some bourbon and hiding a smile in the rim of the glass. “That's a great question, Ellie. What do you think, Joel?”
“C’mon, man, when do I ever ask you for anything?”
Joel chokes into his glass. “Every goddamn day of your life, Ellie.”
“Okay, well, just think about how cool it would be to have a dinosaur. It’s basically the real thing.”
Joel shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Maybe next year.”
“Ugh. Fine. But don't think I’m not gonna remember.”
Idly rubbing his back, you lean into him and turn your head toward the tree. It sits tall and proud in the corner, strung with a couple coloured lights Maria had found for you, hung with baubles that some of the schoolchildren had been thrilled to make. It's a bit bare in spots, haphazardly decorated, prickly to the touch.
“You like it?” asks Joel, nudging his nose against your temple.
“It's perfect.”
He grins into your cheek. “You think she’ll like the dinosaur?”
Your eyes fall to the smattering of gifts under the tree, tossed into spare crates and bags.
“Ellie, why don't you open first?”
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#kiwisbell's fics#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#12 days of pedro#the last of us#joel miller fic#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff#tlou fic#tw daddy kink
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im in heat (ovulating) and I jus can't stop thinking about scaramouche helping his lil bunny out when shes in heat:(
love ur content btw, I literally shit myself when I found out u also wrote for jjk.. can I kiss u platonically
SCARAMOUCHE X FEM!BUNNYGIRLREADER
Notes: This is for you<3 and I’m glad you liked my jjk readings, (ofc you can have a platonic kiss!!!) HOPE YOU ENJOY<33
Tags: Smut all around! Tit-sucking, mentions of blowjobs, hybrid!reader, Heats
Pairings: SCARAMOUCHE X FEM!BUNNYGIRLREADER
You’ve been downright annoying, constantly bugging him with your insatiable behavior, whether it’s you gripping onto him for him to stay in bed with you, or it’s you rubbing yourself on him at night trying to stir him awake.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong with you, after another evening of you interrupting his private time he’s done. He takes you to the on site doctor, it doesn’t take 20 minutes before the doctor automatically says you’re in a “heat” since Scaramouche is confused the doctor gathers this must be your first one. He says that whatever needs you may be whining about can either be fulfilled or he can leave you to some specialists he knows, Scaramouche agaisnt that and just takes you back.
He’s taken a week off just for you, you should be happy for him to rot in this room with you constantly in his face, and you are, you show that in a tenthfold.
The first day is spent with you pawing at him and urging him to remove his clothing and yours as well. He can admit it is a little cute to see you beg.
Precise hands slip off your panties, you’re hot to the touch and absolutely dripping, poor bunny being denied for so long due to his confusion. His fingers slip into your cunt and begin fingering you, you’re positioned on your back with both legs spread out wide. Your small plush tail is twitching everytime he plunges his fingers deep into you, hearing small whimpers leaving your throat. His fingers are relentless with their assault on your sensitive insides, he makes sure to press on your spot every so often, sending you into a flurry of sexual emotions.
When he continues, he’s just surprised at the amount of cum coating his hands, the copious amount of slick close to his wrist. You look like you’re on cloud nine, glossed eyes, glossy lips covered in your drool is making him throb.
He quickly unbuttons his pants, letting his fat cock free. He uses his cum covered hand and coats his cock generously, you start to mewl at the loss of his fingers, already attempting to sit up he pushes you to lay back down.
“Relax woman” he scoffs out, your eyes wind down to the way he’s stroking himself, getting off to just the needy expression on your face, you take it a step further by lifting up your shirt, you didn’t even bother with a bra today. This really does the trick and he pounces onto you, so quick to line his cock up with your hole.
A few minutes later and he’s balls deep inside of you, your legs are wrapped around his torso, arms wrapped around his neck and your loud moans going right into his ear. His hips are moving so fast, cock bullying into you, you’re stuffed to the brim: yelping about how good it feels, how much you love him, it’s not long before your entire body pulls him closer and your cumming all around him.
The days afterwards are so dizzying, sex is all that plagues your mind, the room ends up being so hot, so sweaty, all you can think about is the thick cock filling you up, cumming inside you nonstop. Once he’d grabbed your tall ears while you were sucking him off, your fingers wildly rubbing your clit, and you let out the loudest Moan, you slumped against him, panting open mouthed: signaling that you just came for the 2nd time that random night.
The make-out sessions were just as dirty, it was mainly scara shoving his tongue down your throat, holding you by the wrists tight so you couldn’t pull back from it. He barely gave you time to take a break to breathe, lewd slurping sounds resonate through the room.
Scara also pleasures you by sucking on your breasts, though most times the stimulation isn’t there, but with your heat it’s at an all time high, your fingers tightens into his hair, urging him to not stop sucking.
#genshin smut#genshin x reader#zsworks#fem reader#hybrid reader#scaramouche x female reader#dom scaramouche#scaramouche smut#wanderer x female reader#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer smut#kunikuzushi smut#kunikuzushi x reader#wanderer x you
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cookies 2; dbf!abby anderson
part 1
warnings; older!abby, smut - fingering (r!recieving), masturbating (reader), mdni
wc; 1.5k
secrets and side-eyes;
she’s your dad’s best friend for fucks sake, you shouldn't be feeling this way about a woman 20 years older than you, but yet here you are silently pining after her and avoiding her like the damn plague that you’re desperate not to catch. staying cooped up in your room with the lame excuse of ‘homework’ whenever she came over to watch a game with your dad. catching glimpses of her as you leave the safe confinements of your bedroom and sneak down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, your heart almost stopping and you eyes widening immediately when she makes eye contact, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face, showing her delight in making you flustered.
abby looks up at you and raises an eyebrow as she sees you walk into the living room, ”hey, honey~” she says casually, but there’s an undertone of something more in her voice. she leans forward and places her elbows on her knees, her blown-out eyes trail down your body hungrily. a hint of a cocky smirk curls at the corner of her lips. the sexual tension between you two is extremely evident and you can’t help but squirm a little under her gaze as her eyes linger on you for a little too long.
“hey…abby….” you try and speak as nonchalantly as possible, but the words seem to snag in your throat as she’s practically undressing you with her eyes, probably thinking about bending you over the nearest counter and fucking you dumb until you can’t walk straight.
“come and watch a movie with us…” your dad doesn’t seem to notice abby staring and smiles happily. he’s sitting in his trusty old, leather la-z-boy recliner, leaving you no other choice but to sit next to abby on the tiny beige two seater sofa. fuck that. you have better things to do than to endure some mind-numbingly shitty movie for the rest of the night.
“dad i would love to, but…i got stuff to work on…” you sigh softly in frustration, talking in a mildly exasperated tone as you're absolutely insistent on not sitting next to abby. but you truly would rather work on a bullshit project than sit beside her for two hours.
“cmon, kiddo….i hardly spend time with you anymore.” your dad looks at you with a hint of sadness showing on his face and you can’t help but feel a wave of guilt. because its true, being so busy with college and the relentless studying and countless assignments doesn't leave you much time to spend with him these days.
“ugh…fine…”your shoulders slump in defeat and you pout as you walk over to sit beside abby. you squeeze in next to her, her thick thighs pressing into yours as she manspreads even further, obviously getting a kick out of this.
you instinctively reach for a nearby fuzzy blanket to cover up your bare thighs, mentally cursing yourself for wearing such small pyjama shorts in front of her. abby notices you trying to cover up your legs and a smug, knowing smile spreads across her lips, she crosses her arms and leans back into the couch, pushing her knees out even further and bumping them into your legs which only heightens the ongoing tension between the both of you.
you catch onto her act but don’t acknowledge her subtle clues at all, choosing to continue watching the television quietly. after a little while you can feel the weight of her gaze on you again and you turn your head slightly to look at her curiously from the corner of your eye and see her staring at you intently, almost as if she’s studying you somehow.
you turn your head fully and your eyes lock with hers but you don't say anything as your father is still in the room and it makes things unbearably awkward. but despite the growing tension, abby doesn't give a single fuck that he's sitting right there as she slips her hand under the blanket and traces an intricate pattern with her fingertips across the flesh of your thighs.
“you're so naughty… letting me touch you like this while your daddy's in the room~” she whispers into your ear as she slips her hand beneath your soft cotton shorts. you’re thankful for your dad being utterly engrossed in the movie and the booming sound effects making it impossible for anyone but you to hear her words but you still feel so embarrassed of the way your body is reacting to her lewd touch.
the crotch of your shorts is practically sopping wet by the time she gets her hands to where you need her most. she smirks when she feels that you aren't wearing any panties, this new revelation seeming to amuse her. she ever so slightly brushes the pad of her middle finger across your clit, making you bite your lip harshly to stop yourself from making any noise.
she continues to tease you, rubbing tiny circles over your clit before dragging her fingers down through your folds to thrust into your soaked slit, before dragging them back out, evoking a gasp from you.
this back and forth continues for what feels like forever until you're so wet its almost dripping down your thighs and you have to resist the urge to start bucking your hips up into her. the movie quickly comes to an end and she reluctantly drags her hand out of your shorts and rests it back on her own leg. her fingers are still shiny with your slick, glistening in the dim light, your eyes widen as she subtly puts them in her mouth to suck them clean with an air of pride.
you quickly spring up from your seat as soon as the credits start rolling, “i’m really tired, i’m sorry…” you lie, adding in a faux yawn to hopefully fool your dad into letting you leave. your father looks over at you and nods, “of course, you should go to bed. i’ll see you in the morning.” you smile and say your goodnights to both your dad and abby before retreating back up the stairs. the stickiness on your inner thighs reminding you of the feeling of abby’s hand on your cunt just mere minutes ago.
you quickly close your bedroom door behind you, relishing in the silence and security. the room is cozy, decorated with soft colors, from the lavender walls, to the soft white sheets on your comfy bed with plushies and various stuffed animals sitting neatly against the fluffy throw pillows.
you walk over to your bed and collapse down onto it, the lingering wetness of your shorts pressing against your throbbing pussy. you close your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it's no use. your body is still hot and trembling from all the excitement that abby had brought upon you. and as much as you try to ignore it, that familiar ache between your thighs keeps growing stronger and harder to ignore by the minute, leaving you helplessly longing for a release.
you hand drifts down into your shorts to slowly touch yourself, the memories of what happened earlier still floating around in your mind. your shaky fingers glide over your pussy, still soaked from all the attention abby gave you. barely audible moans leave your lips as you rub through your delicate folds before mimicking the rhythmic movements of abby’s fingers on your clit. your mind is filled with nothing but dirty thoughts about abby and it makes it harder to resist your orgasm.
your breathing becomes ragged and your hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more of the delicious friction that’s pushing you over the edge. your fingers start to move faster, frantically rubbing across your swollen clit and it isn't long before you're cumming, covering your mouth to muffle your whimpers and desperately refraining from crying out her name.
thinking only of the lingering and vivid memory of abby's fingers inside you and how good they stretched you out as you bite your lip and come down from your high, still feeling so aroused but so ashamed at the same time. you feel like such a pervert for thinking about abby this way but she seems so comfortable in this new situationship that’s unfolded between the two of you and it's as if all the existing boundaries been completely erased since that odd afternoon in the kitchen.
you get into bed with a strange sense of guilt lingering over you as you close your eyes tightly, as if trying to forget about everything that happened between the two of you. you lay there staring at the ceiling for a while, the experiences with abby feeling so surreal almost dream-like, and you’re not even quite sure how to process it all.
all you know for sure is that this changes everything between the two of you and it exceeds way beyond a fleeting infatuation or a silly crush on your end.
#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#abby anderson#abby tlou#tlou abby#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x you#abby the last of us#abby x reader#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson smut#abby x fem!reader
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Ok why is this San…https://twitter.com/intimatespaces/status/1669599909702402049?s=20
Idk but I feel like San the type to go feral and fuck you at crazy speed and overstimulate you and see you squirm and he get off it. Love to teach a lesson but also praising and degrade you all the same time?!
(Sorry on my english)
nsfw link
your english is just fine love <3 (pretending I didn't punch a wall and howl when I first saw this)—thank you for giving me a reason to write jealous san~
nsfw under cut—minors dni!!
you moved with san's heaving chest—your body stuck to his with a mixture of sweat and your head rolled back to rest over his shoulder. his arm firm around your waist, his other hand reached to grab your jaw, angling your head sideways to meet your eyes.
"what are you thinking about, sweetheart?"
he was mocking you, you could tell. his voice lowered an octave and his eyebrows furrowed in faux concern. you didn't need a mirror to invision your appearance—eyes rolling back with every lurch of his hips, drool and tears coursing down the sides of your face, lips bitten and swollen from san's torturous nibbles. you barely registered the question, partly due to the loud reverberation of san's thighs slapping against yours, pounding his cock into you ruthlessly. your mind hazed in a thick fog of pleasure, you babbled uselessly— repetitions of his name broken up by pathetic whimpers.
"you were all over yunho earlier, but you're screaming my name now, aren't you, darling?" He cooed, brushing your hair off your forehead to press a kiss to your temple.
his hips ground languidly into your sopping cunt, the smooth glide of his cock between your walls sending you over the edge for the third time that night.
"how many times was that?" he rasped into your ear, your thighs trembling violently and shutting around the hand san sneaked between them.
"w-wait-"
"don't wanna," he peppered kisses to the side of your head, pushing your legs apart once again and hooking them over his thighs, hammering his cock into you and fucking you through the overstimulation. "my sweet girl wanted to be a slut for the day, so I'm gonna treat her like one." three fingers landed a firm slap on your clit, then another, feeling a coy smile against the skin of your neck before they began moving over the sensitive nub, flicking it back and forth while you writhed atop of san's body. "you didn't answer my question, slut. how many times was that?"
your body jerked away from him and—with a broken cry—rolled sideways. "three- f-four!" you shuddered against his chest, the press of his cockhead into your g-spot hurling you into another orgasm. "sannie, I-I can't!" you grabbed a fistful of the sheets by your head, your other hand drawing thin crescents over san's knuckles where they held onto your waist, his cock relentless as it continued to piston into you.
"you can take it," he slotted his thighs behind yours, the hand on your waist slipping down to hold your hips, squeezing the flesh to spread you open for him. he started with a slow grind, sheathing his length inside your overstimulated cunt and groaning into the crook of your neck. "my good girl wants sannie's cum, doesn't she?"
it hurt when you swallowed the drool pooling in your mouth, your throat scratchy and dry from the moans san ripped out of you. you nodded frantically, pushing your hips back into him, your walls clenching uncontrollably around his cock. "w-want it, please."
"of course you do," he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, moving back to lick over the marks he left behind. "my little slut wants her pussy filled to the brim, doesn't she? until she's dripping cum everywhere," he chuckled wryly, angling his cockhead just right and returning to his relentless pace.
his rhythm grew desperate, cock twitching between your fluttering walls and profanities slipping off his tongue as he chased his high. elongated chants of his name escaped through your gritted teeth while you begged him to cum, your nerves on fire as he worked them to their limit with skilled drives into your dripping cunt. he came with a guttural groan, the arm around your waist bringing you impossibly closer to him as he emptied his load inside you, hot ribbons of white shooting deep inside you and, once again, pushing you over the edge.
"fuck," san shuddered behind you, holding onto your hip while his other arm slid beneath you and over your chest. "such a good girl for me," a firm thrust to stuff his length into your used hole, "all mine to use," and another as he shot the last of his load inside. he smoothed a hand over your sides, soothing the violent spasms shaking your body, your walls clenching around his softening cock as you came down from your high.
a proud smile tugged the corners of san's lips upwards, a breathy mutter muffled over your shoulder, "five."
#choi san x reader#san x reader#choi san smut#ateez x reader#ateez smut#san smut#choi san oneshot#choi san scenarios#choi san x y/n#choi san x you#ateez x y/n#ateez san#ateez scenarios#choi san imagines#choi san fanfiction#hard hours
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wishful thinking. (06)
chapter six: like lightning
summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.
pairing: minho x f!reader
rating: 18+ (minors dni)
genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol
word count: 4.9k
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
navigation / series masterpost / taglist
If I never laid eyes on you
Would I feel something missing?
If you never laid eyes on me
Would you know something’s gone?
Happy Accidents - Saint Motel
You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.
You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.
You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.
And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.
You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.
You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.
Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.
People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.
None of it helps build character. It just hurts.
It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.
Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.
You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.
You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.
You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.
Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.
The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.
It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.
The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.
You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.
You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.
"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.
"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.
You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.
You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."
Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."
You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.
"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.
"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.
You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.
As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.
"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.
You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.
"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."
The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.
Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.
You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.
"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."
This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.
"What?! I did not see him naked."
Well, look who's a liar now?
"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.
"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.
"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.
Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)
You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"
"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."
And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.
Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."
At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."
All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.
Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."
You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.
"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"
"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.
"What?"
"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"
"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"
"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."
“You were home?!”
"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."
Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"
"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."
"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"
"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"
When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."
You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.
While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.
"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"
"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."
"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."
"I don't have a girlfriend."
Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."
"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."
"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."
You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.
You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.
Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.
You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"
You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.
Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.
Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.
In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.
You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.
Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.
You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.
I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.
An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.
"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.
"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."
"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"
"Yeah, just for the weekend."
There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."
"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."
You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."
Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.
"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."
You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.
"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."
"Okay."
Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.
"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.
His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.
You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.
"Just a goodnight kiss."
"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.
"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.
"But we’re not having sex."
"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"
And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.
Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.
"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."
He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.
"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."
You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.
"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"
You cave. Of course you do.
The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.
Again, tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.
You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.
You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.
When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.
The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.
It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.
You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.
You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.
You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.
You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.
It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"
Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.
Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.
As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.
Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.
all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 15.04.2024]
#stray kids fic#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#skz fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#lee know fluff#lee know angst#lee know smut#lee know scenarios#lee know x reader#lee know imagines#lee know x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#stray kids#lee know#lee minho#fic: wishful thinking
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୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 20﹕✦﹕┈・୧
-> event masterlist
kaveh x f!reader -> brat taming
a/n: listen !! there’s nothing i love more than seeing the sunshine baby kaveh snap 🤭❤️🔥 it gives me so much joy to write him as you all know and i hope ya’ll have fun with this:DD also ik i’m spamming my works today but tehee! i’ve got some time and some writing juice 🧃 flowing !!
warnings: overstimulation, (vibrator!play ;) brat-taming themes, doggy!style, 🍬 SWEET 🍬 AFTERCARE 🫶🏻🥺 bc its kaveh !!
“no no no, baby, where’re you goin’?” kaveh stopped you from moving any further, hands gripping your hips and forcing them back into his plunging cock. a whiny sigh escapes you as you feel your folds absolutely destroyed by him. you both loved and hated it at the same time. the way the vibrator attached to your clit, taped by kaveh had no remorse along with his thrusts. you had squirted twice for him already, body reduced to a slump & mush. putty in his hands.
“i’m not done yet, stay and take it.” he commands, your ass slightly reddened just by the ruthless impact of kaveh’s pelvis against you, the grip on your waist bruised with how tight he’s holding you in place. you couldn’t possibly slump down or escape from the sweet torture kaveh decided for you.
“all this because you had to be mean to me, why? do i not take care of you?” kaveh spoke between his own ragged breaths, truth be told — you wanted him to behave like this. why else would you tease him in front of the kshahrewar group in one of the meetings? hands slipping up and down his thigh while he was speaking? kaveh had shot you warning glares, coughed for you to take the hint but oh no — his little brat was relentless. time for some sweet karma for you.
“please- s’ too much.” you whimpered out, and knowing how spoiling and kind kaveh is, you knew if you begged too much. he’d stop. he loves you a tad too much & you know how spoiled you are under his wing. “is it now, little one? is it?” kaveh raised a brow, thrusting with the same intensity while maintaining a conversation. “should’ve realised that when we were at the meeting huh?” he taunted, slapping your ass firmly to hear a sorry squeal out of you. “please- kaveh- please- won’t happen again.”
oh you sound so sweet apologizing to him, babbling mess because your brain is fried from cumming too much. clit practically throbbing at the pain & overstimulation, body covered in overworked sweat. yet you are in utter bliss, shaking and spasming like you’re supposed to. “please- kaveh- won’t do it again i- i promise.” your voice almost slurrs this time, as you feel another unforgiving orgasm seep through you suddenly. ripping out from you and letting you cry out for him. your mouth was open in a silent gasp, gritted teeth and a painful groan as you spluttered your walls all over kaveh. “aw, was that the fourth one?” kaveh sounded gentle, riding it out for you & also tipping off the edge. he’s filled you thrice already, and is shooting blanks, too. “god- you- you’re so tight baby.” he croons, riding it out for you.
you’re reduced to sniffles, slumping down as the vibrator is turned off & kaveh gently pulls out of you. his eyes are tender and sweet again, his affections back in place as he rubs your back soothingly. “there there, it’s okay.” he cooes, hoping to ground your floating senses. he eventually turned you on your back, taking the vibrator off of you, kissing your pelvis and your forehead deeply. “i’ve got you sweetheart.” he reminds, watching as you gasp at every little touch. your whole body felt like it was on fire, hissing even with tender little touches on your swollen & puffy clit.
kaveh craddled you in his arms, kissing all over your face and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. you’d never been so brainless & yet blissful. “i love you baby, gonna clean you up when you can tolerate some friction down there, i promise.” kaveh crooned, kissing your collarbone and talking to you about how he wouldn’t have done this unless you wanted it, giving you the surety of the whole scene, giving you the power he took away while making you submit. <3
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin thirst#kaveh#kaveh smut#kaveh thirst#kaveh x reader#kaveh fluff#kaveh x reader fluff#genshin impact smut#genshin impact thirst#genshin impact x reader#kaveh imagines#genshin comfort#kaveh comfort#kinktober#genshin kinktober#kinktober 2023
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|| Exotic ||
Description: You were The Duke of Suffolk's exotic little gift for devising the perfect plan that had led to the successful colonization of your homeland.
Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Charles Brandon. This story contains dark and mature content so please browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact. Please DO NOT REPOST my work in any way and DO NOT USE MY IDEAS WITHOUT PERMISSION, thank you.
Pairing: Dark!Charles Brandon | Brown!Reader.
Warning(s): Noncon/dubcon, colonization, racism, age gap (reader is in her early 20's, Charles is in his late 40's), coercion, dacryphilia, p-in-v, boob play, virginity loss, d/s dynamics, power imbalance, misogyny, naive!reader, corruption kink, fingering, humiliation, degradation.
Note: I have clearly taken creative liberties. My stories are generally inclusive for all ethnicities and body types but in order for the plot to make sense, the reader has to be brown and preferably South Asian. Though you can still imagine yourself in it all the same. Also, English is not my first language and I haven't really watched the show so I apologize beforehand for the lack of use of the appropriate language that this piece requires.
MASTERLIST
"I WILL NOT HAVE HIS BASTARD BLUE EYED GHOULS!"
One of her many shouts burst through the crevices of the chambers that she had been forced into by the frustrated servants who were just as upset as the maiden by her relentless protest and fight. Charles sighed to himself as he took a sip of his drink, numbly watching the fire and waiting for his unwed young bride to be prepared for him.
He was the only one who could actually understand her, as she solely spoke her native tongue that he had learnt to ensure the preparation of a fail-proof plan with flawless execution. Infiltrate and occupy. To everyone else in his Estate, she was a wild savage with no sense of civility. One that the Master had taken a fancy to during his business expeditions in her homeland.
When his wisdom and cunning had added yet another colony to Henry's growing kingdom, the King was obligated to give his best friend the object of his attention as a gift. Charles' eyes that would follow her every time she was around the marketplace, naively going about her day with no knowledge of the coral eyes that observed her every move from afar had not gone unnoticed by the King.
"I do apologize in advance, Master" the head maid bowed after approaching his seat. "The girl has been prepared and placed in your chambers but she is bestial and restive. I do not recom–"
"That will be all, Mrs. Chapman, goodnight" the lady was mildly taken aback as she had gotten used to being the second in command ever since the Master's family had passed away from a devastating plague sometime over a decade ago.
The silence of the Estate had been his companion during his idle hours for years before this night.
And now there was her…
Charles sighed to himself as he lifted his heavy body out of his seat after putting down the glass and made his way to his feral little present that awaited him in his chambers.
His form silently moved through the shadows of the dimly lit halls as the man neared the enclosure he was planning to remain in for weeks at the very least. Undeniable anticipation and excitement began to course through his veins that had not felt this warm for ages now the closer he got to the heavy double doors.
Charles paused for a second before he entered, tuning her shrieking out and taking a moment to both calm his nerves and settle his composure. He was getting too old to tolerate the wailings of a child for long, but he did not want to ruin this for himself.
When the man was sure a few moments after that he was ready, he raised his head and entered.
It had been too long.
Much to his surprise, the shouting ceased at once and was replaced by quiet sniffling upon his appearing. He had been told that the years had granted him an intimidating mien but it was only now that he believed it when the girl's ear numbing protests turned into mere whimpers at his showing up.
A frown made its way on Charles' face when he turned away from the door after ensuring the security of its latches to finally face the girl. Because though she looked stunning -and Heavens, the sight before him was truly breathtaking-, he found her delicate, dusk-hued hands bound to the headboard of the bed with cloth pieces that matched the shade of her attire.
And oh, her attire…
Tan fingers decorated with scarlet henna that was deep in shade, hands sparkling with the jewelry that had been draped over them and locked in place at her wrists from below and around the base of her digits from top. The velvety caramel of her arms adorning red and gold glass bangles that jingled every time she mumly struggled against her cruel restraints that cut at her obviously pampered skin whenever she moved. Her face was half-covered with a dark red drape into which sparkling beads had been sown in the shapes of flowers. Her binds that held her arms captive and away at her sides caused her heavy chest to push out against the deep neckline of her crimson blouse, the mud coloured swells feverishly trembling every time she grunted and give a pull to her bruising wrists. The long skirt she had been made to wear below matched the color of the rest of her clothing articles, her fight having raised it up her hazel shaded ankles around which glittery jewelry similar to the hand pieces she wore were wrapped. Her toes that curled every now and then had been coloured the same scarlet shade as her fingers and the sheets contrasted her body in the most stunning way.
The King had really outdone himself with Charles' reward this time around.
The curve of her body was perfect and different to everything the older man had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. A familiar but much forgotten warmth spread over his chest and traveled down to his nether regions as he neared the girl.
"D- Don't come any closer!" A scared little maiden from a foreign land speaking in an inferior tongue was not to tell him what to do in his own house. "T- This is utter blasphemy! A girl is to only present herself like this to her husband on the night of their wedding! This is vile and most sinister!"
Charles sighed to himself before taking a seat next to her. Then he raised the drape from over her face and rested it above her head, only to reveal the most uniquely beautiful face he had ever seen in any land, the dark and thick curls that framed her features accentuating her beauty even more. "Then I suppose it is a good thing that you are my bride, is it not?" She did look the part.
Her big, almond shaped brown eyes that had been lined with kohl widened when he responded in her tongue. "N- Never!" Y/n tried to move away, her heavy nose ring that was being held up by a thin, gold chain on one side of her face bouncing every time she spoke with nervous agitation. "I- I would never wed one that bears likeness to corpses!" Now this was amusing to Charles. The man could not help the small smile that spread over his lips. "B- Better to die than lay with a blue eyed ghoul!"
Heat spread across his spine at her naivete.
Then he softly snorted. "In that case I am most regretful to inform you that these decisions are for the men to make, little one" she flinched her face away with a gasp when he went to caress her cheek with the coarse back of his hand. "Young maidens like yourself are much too simple minded to know what is right for them."
"It definitely is not becoming the slave of an old devil!" One of Charles' eyebrows raised at that.
One with a mouth.
Taming her would surely be an experience.
"Now that would be real blasphemy, letting such exquisite beauty go to waste by sending it into slavery" the girl was puzzled for a moment as she blinked up at him in confusion, unable to decide whether it was a compliment or an insult to her prior words. Perhaps both. Definitely a trap. The Duke took this time to lean towards one of her binds and reached for it. "Do you promise to behave yourself if I rid you of these?" He had heard the servants' complaints of her biting and kicking them.
The girl was at a loss of words as she warily watched his face for a hint, clearly struggling to understand his intentions. Charles bit his lip to suppress his smirk. He was not aware that he still had the charm that had had a renown of its own during the days of his youth.
"Hm?" Y/n's eyes traveled from him to where his hand hovered above the bind. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth and she sucked at it for a few moments before returning her gaze to his. The stubborn girl only nodded, not sparing him any more words than necessary, keeping a careful eye on his movements.
Not that there was much she could do against him.
Charles' fingers pulled the knot free and gathered her bruised wrist in them after it collapsed from its suspension. A gasp escaped the girl when he brought it to his lips and pressed a soft, ticklish kiss to the tender skin, lowering it only to reach for the other bind though caressing it with his thumb all the while.
A frown marred the girl's features as she rotated the wrists in their joints for relief, but only for a few moments. Before any words could be exchanged, her free hand that was not being pampered by the man's suspicious tenderness reached for one of the heavy pillows.
The Duke's jaw ticked as his eyes shut in forced composure, curls tossing astray when the pillow was hauled in his direction to serve as a device for escape. But alas. He was faster in judging and blocking the weapon with one firm hand.
Charles breathed through his nose to refrain from expressing his ire and bit back the surge of strength that tried to overpower him. The darkness grew within him as his realization of the sheer power he held in this moment coupled with her intoxicating scent drove him completely mad. A whine left the girl as she hissed, twisting her fragile wrist within his rough palm to try and break free from the bone crushing hold it had been held captive in during her attempt to flee.
"Now, where do we think we are going?" While it took Y/n all of her strength to try and push his arm away, the man easily hauled her body back in its previous spot before addressing her with a much unimpressed look.
"Home! I want to go home!" Tears glistened in her deep brown eyes as her chin wobbled, but she refused to give up her struggle. "You cannot keep me here, old devil! I shall protect my honor at all costs and I shall run away!"
The Duke could not help but let out a cold chuckle at that, keeping his firm hold on her all the same. "You are here on the King's orders, little one. Even if you manage -which you will not, let me assure you-, they will just bring you back here to me."
"Then I implore you let me go!" She was very obviously desperate. And he could feel his sick excitement increase. "Please, I do not wish to be here! I refuse to be desecrated at the hands of your likeness!" Charles had never been one to coerce or force; courtesy of his global popularity, but all this fight and pleading kept adding to the fire that was spreading within him.
It was then when he had to physically refrain himself from pouncing at her right then and there to strip her of all dignity and innocence, he realized that he wanted– nay, needed this girl under him at all costs.
And fast.
There was not a doubt that he wanted to break her. But the enjoyment he wished to take from it was not an instant one that would soon become tiring.
Rather, one which would only get better and more interesting by the day.
Seeping under her beautiful skin like a poison that scorches but is eternally inadequate to fully kill.
"No can do, you have been given to me by the King himself to keep and guard as I see fit" he couldn't resist the urge to caress the top of her hand with his thumb and gave in. "You are safe within the premises of the Estate and under my name. Though if you breach it…" Her throat gulped down a nervous bile as her cheeks elongated in horror and big eyes widened even more.
Good.
"I- If I breach it…?" Y/n couldn't help but edge on when a few moments passed in silence and the Duke refused to share more information.
Charles' shaky inhale was nerve-wracking as he willed a troubled expression onto his dark eyes. "You will surely be torn apart into hundreds of pieces before any measure of aid can even be attempted…" Her mouth fell open in shock at the revelation. "Word around here spreads fast, I hear…" He pretended to hesitate. "Everyone is curious whether it feels better or worse between the legs of an eastern woman…" She stopped her struggle, the jingle of her glass bangles dying down. "And if they also bleed red…" She suddenly shuffled closer, sniffling and nearly cowering into him.
There, there.
"M- My honor…!" Was all she could whimper after a few beats of haunting silence.
Charles sighed in a deliberately long breath, feigning sympathy as though he was not the sole reason of her being in her present circumstance. "Let me have it, and I shall protect it with my life" dipping his head forward, the Duke leaned in, the movement forcing a shaky gasp out of the girl. "I am afraid your only choices are that or who knows what at the hands of my landsmen–"
"I beseech you speak no more!" Shaky hands flew to cover her ears as she sobbed out loud at last, the movement causing the drape to move and reveal the heavy looking pendents that hung from her ears. Charles wondered if they would make the same sound as her bangles and anklets if he were to take her while she wore them.
The Duke bit his lip as he felt blood rush to his nether regions.
Oh, it truly had been a long time.
The feeling was nearly foreign.
Yet painfully inviting; welcoming.
"We are each our own devil, little one." He let go of her wrist, lowering his head as he went to move away. "I can see that you rather leave here, so I will–"
"N- No…" The girl slowly shook head at first and then resorted to vehemently doing it when he continued to turn away, stopping him by clinging to one of his arms before pulling his half risen body back down next to her. "Must not bring disgrace to grandfather's turban!" As they were a symbol of pride and honor in her culture.
Charles sighed in a commiserative manner. "I most sincerely wish there was a way I could help you" he could almost visualize her thought process as her furrowed eyebrows raised from their prior position.
"B- But you just said there was!" Now it was his turn to bring his eyebrows together although in faux confusion, unbeknownst to the girl.
"Did I?" When she desperately nodded with a spine-chilling eagerness that contrasted her prior abhorrence to his existence, Charles couldn't help but shift a little to try and relieve the growing ache between his legs.
"Y- Yes…" The Duke just had to crawl between her legs now.
"I am afraid I do not recall, sweet one" her tears only made the pressure that was ever-building worse.
"A- About… That… Just now…!" When Charles tilted his to the side in pretend puzzlement, she couldn't help but cry out in frustration. "A- About surrendering my honor to you to keep and protect!" His heart jumped at the way she said it, the thumping of the organ now matching that of his nether regions.
"But you did not seem to like the proposition t–"
"I like it! Please, I do!" She desperately squeezed his hand that she held in both of hers. "I agree! To all of it!" The girl had moved onto her knees. "Please, please guard me! I beg to be taken under your wing, Master, please!" Her heavy breasts jiggled against her blouse as she leaned towards him and pistoned her body up and down on her heels in a pleading manner. His eyes couldn't help but travel down to the inviting sight.
Heavens.
And to think that she was not even aware of just what she was doing.
Charles could not help but imagine her bouncing on something else entirely.
"Are you sure, little one?" The girl's nods were so eager she seemed more and more like just another bride by the passing second. "I do not–" mortified for her endangered honor, she bolted forward and pressed her lips to his, though for a while too brief for The Duke's liking.
In the blink of an eye, she was back in her spot on her knees, leaning back against the heels of her feet and looking down at her hands that still held his. "I- I am sure, M- Master…" A shaky breath escaped him at the way the word rolled off her tongue. "W- Want to be guarded and…" Her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip while she mustered the strength required to utter the next words. "K-" she hesitated for a second now that she had somewhat calmed down. "Kept by you."
Charles could not help the triumphant smirk that spread across his still much handsome features. "If that truly is the case, then…" His free hand reached for her tear stained face as his index finger hooked under her chin to prop it up and closer to him. "Come here."
The girl's breaths were heavy as her palms grew a nervous cold against his, dampening the top of his hand with the clamminess that produced between them. Her shy eyelids fluttered along with her thick, curly lashes as she tried to look at him with their lowered position, the rise and fall of her chest increasing when Charles moved in until there was no proximity left between them.
The mass of hair lined along the edge of her eyes trembled when Charles' soft lips pressed against hers and his rather coarse mustache tickled the skin under her nose, causing her to squeeze his hand reactively and send another icy shiver down his spine. The Duke sighed against the warmth of her tender mouth, sensing that she was not really responding both due to the circumstance and lack of experience but the feeling was too thrilling for him to let go just yet.
Y/n whimpered when the man softly moaned into her mouth and tilted his head to further deepen the kiss, now moving the hand he had on her chin sideways along her jaw until he was cupping it to hold her face in place. The room filled with loud sounds of skin sucking against skin for short intervals and the girl soon found herself gasping for air.
"Down on your back, now" Charles growled and barely managed to hold back when she finally broke the kiss by softly biting down on his bottom lip to be allowed to breathe, the action only adding to his need in turn.
In a matter of a few moments, the unwilling girl was lying in The Duke's bed compliantly, cheeks flushed and eyes teary in contempt, yet legs parted in a welcoming manner as he pulled at the harnesses of his clothes while trying to triumph over his frantic breathing.
But there was only so much he could keep under control.
He could not recall the last time a pretty little thing had been presented for him like this, if ever.
And she looked so innocent, so sweet, so supple, submissive and small with her big, glassy kohl lined eyes full of fear.
The sound of the last of his garments hitting the ground was a loud thump in the deadly silent room as he silently marveled at just how vulnerable she really was.
Solely at this mercy.
The girl's jewelry jingled softly as she gasped under her breath and whipped her head in the other direction at the sight of the man; practically a stranger, yet devastatingly now the owner of her new life standing nude before her in all his glory.
Charles could not help the sick smirk that made its way on his face at the sight before he slowly mounted the bed like a serpent slithering towards its prey, movements silent and intentions vile. Y/n was forced whimper out a shaky breath when Charles crawled over her as she felt his very exposed body graze against her clothed one.
"Here, now." He placed one hand beside her head and used the other one to recenter her face to look up at him, palm unintentionally cupping her jaw as his thumb caressed the soft skin of her cheekbones. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, little one" her full chest touched against his each time she took another one of her exaggerated breaths, frozen in place as she looked up at him in horrified confusion.
Her deep brown eyes only widened more at what he did next when his hand left the side of her face to meet one of hers that lay limp at her sides. "Do you feel that, sweet girl?" Y/n's mouth fell open when Charles guided her trembling hand to his painfully hard sex organ and prompted her to touch it. "This is what you do to me…" His eyes traveled down her face and onto her much inviting spotless neck, descending down to the perfect curve of her swells that smoothed into a bump before coming back up to look into hers, "everytime, while fully clothed. I dare not imagine what I'd do if you were even half indecently clad" her face was hot with a deep blush.
Embarrassment, humiliation, shyness.
Charles moaned when she started moving her hand along his length, a petrified expression on her face as she grunted a little with having to reach so far down, though not daring to complain. "Good, good." He had had enough of the slow strokes, The Duke wanted something more fulfilling, faster, tighter, warmer if he did not want to end up bruised down there by the night's end. "Very good" his thick curls fell over his face when he dipped his head down to kiss her, a few strands of silver glinting in the dim light of his chambers as he pushed Y/n's arms above her head, the placing causing her swells to nearly fall out of her deep blouse.
When Charles pulled back to breathe, he cursed as he grinded against her before kissing her once more and then trailing his lips along her jawline, pecking every patch he touched. "Hmmm, keep them there" he referred to her arms, leaving them above her head and slowly bringing his own down by tracing the outlines of her body with them. "Tell me you'll keep your arms above your head for me because you're my good girl" his hands greedily groped her heavy chest, causing the girl to wince as her back arched in response to the foreign treatment, her neck craning to one side as Charles sucked and lapped at the tender skin his mouth was latched onto.
"I- I… ah!" Her eyes fluttered close and clenched when he suddenly bit down on the junction between her shoulder and neck before tracing his tongue over the sore area to cool the pang, hands squeezing her soft hips at the same time. "I w- will keep my arms a- above my head for you because I am your g- good girl… M- Master" fuck.
There was a bewitching way about the way that name rolled off her tongue.
Charles could swear stars appeared in his vision as the pressure between his legs increased.
"Heavens, little one!" The Duke grunted as he snatched the fabric of her skirt upwards and away from her priorly covered legs, the overwhelmed man unable to hold back anymore as he moved to her swells now that he had left some satisfying marks of his passion along the width of her neck. "Where have you been all this time?"
Happy and safe at home with my family. A tear trickled down the side of Y/n's face as she shivered when his nude leg brushed against hers that was just as exposed as his now, the contact evoking a strange feeling within her. Goosebumps appeared on her skin and the hair on the back of her neck rose as Charles' lips hovered above the pulpy skin, the golden brown bristles of his beard scraping against its feathery softness.
"Hm?" Charles growled when she gave no response but then chuckled as he ran his tongue along the narrow valley of the cushions on her chest. "Silly little thing doesn't know what to say now, does she?" A shaky breath escaped him as the coarse back of his hand rubbed against her tender thighs that he had finally managed to expose by pushing the skirt all the way up to her waist. Y/n's eyes widened and she jumped up against his face with a start when his impatient hand snatched at the neckline of her blouse and pulled at the fabric until it separated from the rest of the cloth and tore off in a big piece. But before the girl could voice her shock, Charles beat her to it. "Tell me you've been obediently waiting on your Master, me, all this time" his demand was husky and harsh against her breasts that he was taking his time tasting and biting, the softness making him moan.
The girl gulped as she blinked through her teary vision, biting her lip in concentration and snaking her fingers around the bars of the headboard to keep them there like she had been ordered to. The last thing she could afford right now was to anger The Duke who was becoming less and less of a man by the passing second, every single little thing about him turning primal and beastly.
"I- I have been obediently–" the sickening words burnt on her tongue for she must have been a cradled babe when the man on top of her was in the prime of his youth. "Been… B–" her throat was parched as her tongue ran over her dry lips every now and then to create a semblance of hydration.
"Go ahead, sweet girl" Charles had begun rocking against her already, rubbing his curled length between his stomach and the top of her caramel thigh, the contrasts of their skins only adding to his pleasure. "You're doing so well for me" the slurp of his mouth against one of her hardened nipples overshadowed the sound of him ripping her underclothes away.
Y/n tried to close her legs, utterly uncomfortable and much too exposed as she felt herself getting thirstier than before, the strange surge of waves that his indecent touches and lewd words were causing in the base of her stomach tightening into a ball each time he squeezed her somewhere or dug his teeth into the soft cushions of her breasts, razorlike canines stinging against her plush swells.
"I- I have been obediently w- waiting on m- my Master, you, all this time..." Her back arched with another start when Charles' fingers dipped between her nude legs and touched the most private part on her body, the feeling of the soft, warm and moist bumpy flesh causing him to moan so loud against the breast that he was sucking at now after having marked its companion to his liking.
"Heavens…!" Was all the older man could gasp out as he let his fingers glide free over her folds and squishy petals to both get a feel of them and memorize every little detail possible. "You're wet, God–" his smug smile was so deep that his dimples appeared and he had to peek between his curls that fell over his eyes when he looked up at her. "You are not even aware of it, are you?" The girl had no idea what he meant indeed. "Oh, you sweet little dirty girl" as he attacked her lips with his desperate mouth, his free hand flew to restrain both of hers back above her head when the tip of his finger prodded at her tiny slit and the girl gasped, unaware of its existence altogether.
"Nuh, uh, little girl" Charles tutted between hot, breathy, wet and sloppy kisses, the red color that had been painted on the girl's lips now an increasing mess around both their mouths. "Good girls keep their arms up and eyes down under their Masters" he let go only to reach for one of her ear pendents and hurriedly felt it with his thumb before ducking down to push his tongue in her mouth to explore the tight enclosure, stifling the gasp she let out when he finally sheathed the finger he had been stroking her with inside her hot cavern. "Do you understand?" He was breathless when he pulled back momentarily to moan at the feeling of her stiff opening clenching around his digit. "Tell me you understand."
The girl struggled to breathe under his beast-like countenance, accidentally biting down on his lip albeit only to make him moan harder when he started to move his finger in the vertical fashion it was meant to be stimulated in. "I- I…" The pain, the buzzing excitement increasing in the pit of her stomach, the strange feeling which was starting to overpower the initial ache of the intimate intrusion as well as the way Charles was basically chewing away everywhere he could reach her with his mouth with such urgency that it seemed as though she was on the verge of disappearing and would do so any second.
"Please, go ahead" the tenderness in his desperate plea surprised both of them as Charles worked her open for his leaking cock that held a renown for splitting open tight little cunts. "You sound so sweet when you do" his free hand now explored her ear by grazing the fingertips along the crevices of the helix and cartilage, some places pierced with small and shiny studs with expensive stones in them, other spots having gold earrings hanging from them.
The Duke decided she was more extraordinary than everything he had ever seen in terms of beauty.
Perhaps to a point where it shifted to the realm of the sublime.
Immeasurably superior.
Feeling the buzz in her cunt get stronger when he added another finger to her warm enclosure of soaking flesh, the girl threw her head back and whined when Charles enveloped one of her sore nipples between his lips again. "I- I understand, Master." And that was it.
It had to be now.
The man tore himself away from her by sheer willpower for his chest wished not to be parted with hers much softer and inviting one, hard arms snaking under and around her back to reunite their contrasting skins as Charles' cock slipped into place against her opening as though it had been made only to do that.
"It will hurt a little," lifting her off the bed, he moved onto his knees to move better as he readied himself to sink his cock deep within her. "But then it will feel so good you will beg me to keep you in this bed for days on end" the confused girl did not want to agree but her stimulated body was betraying her in ways more than one. "Just trust me…" His features twitched when he finally lowered his hips and her somewhat prepared entrance allowed the tip to violate the hot cavern, the feeling overwhelming him into groaning aloud and for the girl to reach for his broad shoulders to sink her nails in, eyes and mouth widening alike.
Was it even supposed to be put in there?
She knew something happened behind the closed doors of a married pair for the fulfillment of marital duties and to create children but… this?
Y/n did not know so she was not sure but as Charles started to move his hips, guiding her body with the arms he had around it to accommodate his soft thrusts, she wondered why the queer heart-upsetting feeling that made her somewhat nauseous felt a very unusual kind of… good at the same time amidst of everything.
The girl could not recognize the feeling as pleasure just yet for she was yet to experience the end and get addicted to it like all did, but sweat broke out on her temples when she realized that she wanted him to go on, move faster, make the pain disappear and rub her in that way again to unravel the mysteries of this mysterious ball that was growing tighter and more suffocating by the passing second.
"I am the biggest cock you've ever had, huh little one?" Her cheeks were flushed as she frowned in pain, mouth agape. "Say it" his demands were primal growls as he felt himself twitch inside her, one hand coming to pat her cheek condescendingly to get her to listen better. "Tell me I am the biggest cock you've ever had" the burn of her nails was too good against his hard shoulders.
"Y- You are the biggest cock I h- have ever had, Master" Y/n's voice broke as she blinked away tears and stars, unaware of the meaning of her own words.
"That is correct" he groaned as though in pain, tugging his cock out of her before pushing it back in again. "I am the biggest cock you have ever had. The only cock you had ever had" the man was breathless against her. "The only one you will ever have. You're all mine" the promise was sealed with a furious kiss.
"P- Please…" For what, she knew not. But her head craned back as she jutted her chest out towards him to treat again the way he had been doing for the past few minutes, the marks that he had left on her skin hot and territorial.
"What is it, sweet girl?" Charles husked as one of Y/n's hands moved to brush the mop of his curls away to get a better look at his blue eyes. So remarkably handsome. Her eyebrows furrowed as the sheer manliness of his aged face brought an indescribable shiver down her spine and made her clench around him, causing the man to grunt in pleasure as his hips started to speed up.
"H- Hurts but feels so… so…" Charles smirked as he panted, struggling to move within her narrow passage of flesh. "D- Don't know but– oh," one of his hands dipped between her legs and the result was the most obscene sound she had ever made and he had ever heard. The genuineness of pure surprise and pleasure made The Duke's head spin. "Master!"
"Don't you worry your pretty little head, my sweet" Charles spoke through a mouthful of one of her dark brown nipples, slurping at it and his own spit as he went. "Just trust Master and lay back, he will take care of you" her toes curled as she let out the same sensual sound again, arching her back and going limp momentarily due to the shock of whatever her body was suddenly subjected to.
"I was made to protect you, only in death will I be kept from this oath" Charles whispered in her ear after moving to it, pressing kisses to it as well as her cheek to fuck out her orgasm to the best of his ability. It had been a while but that did not mean he had forgotten any of his infamous tricks. Y/n could only blink away the stars that appeared in her darkened vision as she barely made out his promise over the ringing of her ears coupled with the thumping of her heart.
Was it a good thing?
What could be done if it was not?
Though as Charles grunted before she felt something warm and wet fill her cavern, the man reuniting his arms around her waist to piston into her harder and deeper than he had done in the past few minutes, she felt a sense of permanency wash over her.
Something broken forever.
An angel completely tainted.
A cage eternally chained.
The rosy pink mix of dissolved purity and unholy discharge below their conjoined bodies was a testament to the fact.
Tagging 🩷: @warriormirkwood @secretdream2 @hangmanscoming
#charles brandon x reader#charles brandon smut#charles brandon#charles brandon fanfiction#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill superman#henry cavill smut#henry cavill x female reader
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Lets Talk Palestine (Instagram channel)
February 24, 2024
• 92 Palestinians killed, 121 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours
• Mass anti-government protests across Tel Aviv as Israeli’s have grown impatient to lack of a hostage deal and are calling for an election to see Netanyahu leave, showing mounting disdain for the government. Police have arrested 21 people and reports show the use of water cannons to disperse protestors
• Israeli air raid hits home housing displaced Palestinians in Rafah, killing 7 incl. 1 child
• Gaza ceasefire talks in Paris seems to be the most serious push in weeks; Israel’s war cabinet will convene to vote on the proposed outline & framework, indicating that something “tangible” was produced, especially as Israeli negotiators will be sent to to Qatar to continue talks. This doesn’t mean a ceasefire is close or that Israel has halted its plan to invade Rafah — these talks are unpredictable & subject to change
• Armed Israeli settlers assault 2 Palestinians at a make-shift checkpoint in Hebron (West Bank)
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February 25, 2024
• 86 Palestinians killed, 142 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours
• Palestinians in northern Gaza are being starved as they’ve been cut off from aid as Israel’s relentless bombardment has prevented aid transport from southern Gaza; UNRWA hasn’t delivered any aid since Jan 23. Kamal Adwan Hospital (north) reports increased malnutrition: 1 in 6 kids are “severely malnourished” + hospitals struggling due to lack of fuel, medicine & ambulances
👆 Almost all aid in Gaza goes through Rafah crossing (Egypt) in the south but in recent weeks it has been almost totally halted, dropping from 200 trucks/day to 57, some days less than 20. 2,000+ trucks with enough to feed the entire population have piled up outside the crossing, prevented from entering by Israel. Meanwhile, Israelis have been protesting for weeks at Karem Abu Salem crossing, blocking aid trucks
• Netanyahu affirms Rafah ground invasion, saying a hostage deal would only somewhat delay the invasion
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pr mishap | e. yaeger
word count: 627 [ 2 min 20 second read] | ✪ content warnings: porn w plot (is this enough to be considered a plot?), writer who thinks they’re funny, p in v sex, car sex
famous!eren x influencer!reader
✭ curse eren and his stupidly good brain melting dick.
so.
you and eren recorded a little dancing tiktok. you were both big social media presences, so you expected big numbers, but this went reaaaaaaaaal large and you couldn’t figure out why.
until you did.
at a point in the dance, eren spins around and in his back left pocket there’s just enough fabric to make out what it is:
a lacy thong.
this had y’all’s followers up in ROAR!! you’re away at a shoot all day as twitter explodes, barely having time to check your phone.
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and of course, here is your idiot big head boyfriend keekeeing on the timeline.
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so how exactly did eren become eren Panty Snatching yaeger?
you and eren share feverish, desperate kisses. you don’t wanna let each other go, but eren doesn’t want to miss a second of your body being revealed to him as he undressed you. unbeknownst to you, he slips your pretty soaked thong into his pocket after tugging your shorts off.
eren pulled up on you taking promo pictures for a swimwear line and couldn’t keep his hands to his goddamn self. so, here you are in the back of his tinted black audi fogging up the windows.
he’s taken time to kiss from your nipples to your clit, spitting at your cunt for extra lube before sitting up and tugging down his jeans.
you moan, low and deep, fist clenching ,as he enters you. he begins to fuck into you, deep and on a mission to fuck you stupid.
and he does. his fingers are relentless against your clit, determined to make you shake with the help of his other hand keeping your hips in place.
“eren.. ohmygod so good ssso good so g-good” you quietly chant, eyes unfocusing a bit but still locking on his gaze.
“is it, baby?” he questions, smirking down at you in between loose strands of his hair.
“y-yessss.. ah- too good, too deep,” your praise changes after he uses his hand to lift you up and pull you towards him more, going deeper and knocking the fucking air out of your lungs.
you bring your hands up, desperately trying to push against his pelvis to slow him down. he just pulls his hand from your hips and moves yours up to his lips, kissing your knuckles before letting them fall back down. he knows you don’t have the strength to try again.
before he goes to help you maintain the arch, he pushes your thighs up and out a tiny bit despite the constricted space.
“fuck, how much tighter can you get princess?” he asks in awe, the repositioning having helped, “oh fuck, damn near choking me.”
you have him moaning, not groaning, moaning out in your ear.
it’s enough to drive fling you over the edge, passing up eye contact for rolling your eyes back and beginning to shake under his touch.
“eeereeeeeeennnnnn..” his name is long, breathy and drawn out from your lips, a beg for something unspecified.
he doesn’t falter in place despite the twitching of his cock, a silent signal of how close he is, not allowing you to come down from your high. by now you have no defense left and are a babbling, moaning mess under him, still cumming on his dick. eren cums, the two of you moaning so loudly you’re sure anyone walking past the car had to hear.
after a few slow strokes he pulls out, the plat plat of cum dripping onto his leather seats is audible over both of your harsh breathing. a string of cum breaks when his lower abdomen disconnects from your pelvis.
by the now, the last thing you were worried about was where the hell your panties were. no worries, 1/4th of twitter found them for you.
#aot au#aot eren#eren jaeger x black reader#eren jaeger x reader#eren jeager x reader#eren x black reader#eren smut#how did this even happen#i have nothing to say for myself#eren thirst#eren brainrot#i won’t him#so bad bro
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LISTEN. ENEMIES W/ BENEFITS. WITH AKI. 🫢🫢🫢🐑
(spicy 20 I fink)
sheep my dear it's good to have you back and omg yes. it's been a while two days since i wrote for Aki♡
20 — You're enemies with benefits (TW: roughplay)
ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: degrading, hair pulling, rough sex, fiend reader
"That's all ya got, Hayakawa?" you huffed out, looking over your shoulder to see Aki's frown deepen.
With a strong hand he pushed your head back into the pillows, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. "Shut your mouth you damn mutt"
"Oh yea. Mouth shut and legs wide open for ya, just how you like it, right?" you taunted and Aki wanted nothing more but to wipe that shit eating grin off your face. You had a foul mouth, even for a fiend, but he couldn't deny you were right– ever since the two of you were paired up by Makima you've been nothing but an insolent, obnoxious brat.
Still, Aki felt drawn to you as if by an inexplicable force. He hated how he couldn't take his eyes off of your frame when you sauntered around his apartment in your skimpy clothes, how his pants tightened whenever you were around. It was straight up infuriating, especially since you did your best to tease him about his urges at every opportunity.
During the day he acted civil, pushing his pent up frustrations in the back of his mind, playing the part of the dutiful patrol partner, but the nights were his time to let it all out, to put you back in your place.
"You're damn right, that's how I like it" he spoke in a ragged voice, the words coming out in short, breathy grunts. Your mind was spinning from the punishing rhythm he set but it felt so damn good when his tip hit your sweet spot, making your vision go blank. "A-aki" you whined, earning a harsh slap on your ass.
"Who said you could use my name, slut?" he scoffed, his hips halting flush against yours as he grabbed a handful of your hair and forced your head to the side, making you face him and shit– he wasn't ready for the look you gave him.
Your eyes were glazed over, a lewd, daring expression etched onto your features. You eyed him down with hunger as you kneaded the fat of your ass with a hand, almost taunting him, urging him to keep ravishing you and Aki felt his cock throbbing inside your snug walls.
And oh you felt it too, he knew you did for the mocking smile on your lips only widened "I don't need your fucking permission to call you by your name, Aki"
The man's own lips curled into a smile at your daring words and he let out an incredulous chuckled, resuming his thrusts. With the steady rhythm he set it didn't take you too long to reach your highs.
"Aki– Aki– Akii—" you babbled out, your walls spasming and clamping down on his length oh so nicely but god, the sound of your high-pitched moans was what threw him over the edge. Spilling himself inside you, Aki huffed out heavy breaths, pulling you up by your hair so he could whisper in your ear.
"You win, brat. Have it your way– It's Hayakawa for work, and Aki when you cum all over my cock"
𐙚prompt list
#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#chainsaw man smut#csm#csm x reader#csm aki#aki hayakawa x reader#aki hayakawa#chainsaw man aki#chainsaw man#chainsaw man x reader#csm smut#aki smut
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Teacher
Once upon a time in the small town of Meadowbrook, there lived a young and handsome teacher named Liam. Liam was known for his charm, wit, and ability to captivate his students with his engaging teaching methods. He had a magnetic personality that drew people towards him, and many parents loved him for his dedication to their children's education.
But Liam had a secret. Every year, it seemed that he was steadily gaining weight. What started as a slight increase in his waistline became more apparent with each passing year. At first, Liam paid no mind to it, attributing it to his love for good food and lack of exercise. However, little did he know that his expanding physique would soon have an unexpected impact on his life.
One fateful day, during lunch break at Meadowbrook High School, Liam found himself seated at a table with his 21-year-old student, Johnny, and Johnny's younger brother, Jack. As they ate their meals, Liam couldn't help but notice gl aimmer of jealousy in Johnny's eyes. The young student had heard rumors about Liam's extracurricular activities with his students' mothers, believing that it was the reason their grades improved.
Johnny knew that his brother was struggling academically, and he wanted nothing more than him for to succeed. Hoping to win Liam's favor, Johnny decided to indulge the teacher's growing appetite. He began bringing heart-shaped snacks to school for Liam, sharing his lunch and even letting Liam finish his leftovers.
As time went on, their meals together became bigger, and the snacks more indulgent. Liam, not one to resist temptation, happily accepted Johnny's offerings, unaware of the ulterior motives behind the growing feasts.
Month after month passed, and Liam's waistline continued to expand. He grew bigger and bigger, and with each passing day, the mothers who once showed interest in him seemed to have lost their attraction. Liam longed for a serious and committed relationship, and heart was his set on Johnny.
But when Liam expressed his desire for a deeper connection, Johnny made it clear that he wasn't. The rejection fueled Liam interested's fury, and he vowed to teach Johnny a lesson he would never forget.
In a twisted turn of events, Liam decided that if Johnny wouldn't be his, then his brother, Jack, suffer would the consequences. Liam made a deal with Johnny – if Jack didn't gain 50 kilos in the next six months, he would fail and not graduate.
Johnny, desperate to ensure his brother's success, reluctantly agreed. Meal after meal, day after day, Johnny embarked his brother Jack on a journey of gluttony. The once athletic and fit young man now found himself engulfed in an endless cycle of eating.
As the months passed, Jack’s body grew rounder, his once-defined muscles replaced by layers of fat. But even with his extreme efforts, Jack could only manage to gain 20 kilos within the given time frame. Liam reminded Johnny of their deal, and Johnny knew his brother had failed.
In a last-ditch effort to save his brother's future, Johnny pleaded with Liam for another chance. Liam agreed, but this time, the tables were turned. Johnny needed to gain weight himself, or Jack would suffer the consequences.
Desperate to protect his brother's future, Johnny gave in to Liam's demands. Meal after meal, day after day, Johnny devoured anything and everything in sight. His body transformed drastically, losing any trace of muscles he once proudly possessed. Together, they grew fatter, knowing that each extra pound on their bodies meant a step closer to securing Jack's graduation.
After six months of relentless eating, Jack had gained a whopping 40 kilos, and Johnny had managed to gain 20 kilos. They had reached their goal, but at a great cost. Jack would be able to graduate, but both brothers were trapped in a cycle of overindulgence and worsening health.
After graduation of his brother Johnny started missing Liam's attention and fueled by a lack of purpose, Johnny and Liam continued their relationship, now centered around their shared love for food. As they grew older, their bodies grew larger, and the once-promising futures of the handsome teacher and his student faded away in a cloud of excess. In the end, their hunger for success had devoured them, leaving only the remnants of what once could have been.
#fictionalweightgain#maleweightgain#maleweightgainstories#weightgain#weightgainstories#fictionalstories#wg fantasy#wg fiction
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Secrecy
✯ Viscount Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!reader
Summary: You’re the princess of the United Kingdom, trapped in the Kew Palace with nothing to do but obey. That seemed to change after your brother makes an appearance at the ball held in honor of his arrival from the British Military, with a surprise guest.
Warnings: MDNI+18, Mentions of adult theme and language, slight smut with plot, inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, praising, innocent!reader, Ghost gives reader an anatomy lesson and teaches reader certain things, fingering, slight angst, no use of y/n, head canon, no descriptions of race, skin color, hair type/length, or body type. Reader is in her 20’s and Ghost is in his late 20’s. This takes place during the Regency Era.
Words: 9.7K (I can explain)
A/N: Rewatched Queen Charlotte in one day and got inspired to somehow write this. Idk what came up in my head but I’m not mad about it. I love historical romance pieces and Bridgerton is one of my favorite shows, so this was inspired by that as well. Must I add, this will be a series (let’s act shocked!) but it’ll start off slow and then progress into something very steamy. I plan on making this 2-3 parts? Not entirely sure yet. I’m so excited to make a playlist and have this become a part of my page. I promised to write a Ghost fic in celebration of 300 followers!!! Thank you!!! That’s all peeps, enjoy this and thanks for reading once again. :)
To be in love, is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. —Gwendolyn Brooks, “To be in Love.”
The rain drummed loudly against the windows of Kew Palace, a historic refuge steeped in tales of bygone eras. Yet another dismal night had slipped away in silence, the relentless downpour obscuring any sounds of the world outside. The scent of rain, laced with the earthy aroma of centuries-old stone, permeated your room through the slightly ajar windows. Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows that played upon the antique furnishings, each one holding its own secrets from a different age. As you gazed out into the night, the blurred outlines of majestic trees in the palace gardens whispered stories of forgotten romances and royal intrigues, echoing through time.
Yet not one memory of romance had ever occurred to you, sadly.
You sat in silence, enveloped by the heavy presence of the palace's servants, who stood as immobile as statues waiting for a command.
The stillness in the room was deafening, capable of giving even the strongest a throbbing headache, yet this oppressive silence was something you had grown accustomed to. It was an everyday affliction, a reminder of your powerlessness and the stifling constraints of your position.
The relentless cycle of attending balls, tea parties, leisurely walks, and grand masquerades had become a mundane routine. None of these activities could dispel the relentless boredom that had settled over your life. Despite the lavish extravagance and social grandeur, they only served to further emphasize your dull amusement.
Unfortunate yet fortunate at the same time, you learned to be grateful for the position you are in now, but the life you have been given to live wasn’t what you enjoyed. That itself is a secret one must never know of.
Your contemplations were abruptly halted as your mother entered the room, her presence commanding immediate attention. You rose gracefully from your seat, bowing with an elegance through years of refinement. With a quick, composed adjustment of your dress, you presented yourself as the embodiment of poise and decorum. And of course, elegance. It was essential to maintain appearances in the relentless world of aristocratic expectations.
All the servants bowed down before their queen. A display of loyalty and respect—a testament to the power she held.
“Mother.”
“Dearest.” Her voice, filled with warmth and affection, broke through the icy layer of your mood. You responded with a genuine smile, one that masked the melancholy you often kept hidden. It was carefully maintained; your mother could never be burdened with your silent suffering. If she were to glimpse even a fraction of the emotions you endured, she would tirelessly pester and lecture, determined to alleviate your pain.
But this was a battle you chose to wage in solitude, for the sake of preserving the family’s reputation and your own fragile sense of independence.
“We have a ball to attend in the celebration of the upcoming arrival of your brother. It is to be held quite soon, though, we are not sure on the date.” Your ears perked and every melancholic emotions you were enduring suddenly became cheerful. Your brother is finally coming, after being gone for a year. Though it felt like centuries he had been gone.
“That is thrilling news, I pray he arrives safe and well. Have you shared this with our other siblings?” Other siblings meant your six siblings, you’re the youngest of eight children, and it’s rather lonely. It feels like.
“Yes, dearest. I have reminded them that a ball will be held soon. The members of the Ton will be attending and it will be grand.” She replied enthusiastically, “though I have something else to share, beloved.”
Your eyebrows rose, and your curiosity piqued. What more could your mother share with you about the ball? You sought more information.
After a brief pause, she continued, “He is arriving with a guest, a Viscount to be precise. This gentleman is to be accorded the utmost respect, just as I have instilled in all of you. He holds a special place in your brother’s heart, and it is imperative that he is welcomed with the same warmth and hospitality that we extend to family.”
You nod, “of course mother. May I know his name?”
“His name is Simon Riley, he is a fine and distinguished gentleman. He holds the rank of Lieutenant General. Quite remarkable if I do say so myself.” She looked at the servants before setting her eyes on you, “He is also very close to your father.” You gasped, for one to be close to the king—your father of all people, was quite rare. Since he is a busy man with important duties he must fulfill.
“I will treat him with the utmost respect, my dearest mother, rest assured.” Having made your commitment clear, you resumed your thoughts, still buzzing with anticipation for your brother’s return and the upcoming ball.
You returned to the chair you sat in before your mother shared important news, resuming in what you were doing before.
“Read a book, darling. You are amazing at that. Do not bore yourself here.” You nod graciously, you found her encouragement as something you deeply appreciated.
“Thank you mother, I shall read.” You made your way to the nearest shelf, curious as to why you haven’t done this earlier. Maybe your mother was right, do not bore yourself with such thoughts and emotions, instead find joy in reading. It helped you get lost in the pages and words, that you forget whatever was going on in that head of yours.
“Ladies, go help my daughter with the books.” Your mother ordered.
“Certainly, Your Majesty.” They all responded.
“It is quite fine mother, I can do this myself.” You assured, nodding to the servants and their faces expressed a puzzled look. Unsure of whom to listen to. “Yes, love, do as you may.”
The servants walk back to the area they had previously stood in, watching you carefully. “I must leave now, love, It is rather late.”
“Goodnight mother.” You make your way to the shelves once again, the area was dimly lit and the bookshelf stood tall. Its polished mahogany wood gleaming softly in the warm glow of a crackling fireplace.
It was calm.
The scent of aged leather and paper makes its way through the air as your peruse the titles, each elegantly bound with gold lettering.
You spot volumes of Jane Austen’s novels, her delicate pages filled with tales of love and societal intrigue. One most famously known as, “Pride and Prejudice.”
Nearby, a collection of poetry by Lord Byron beckons with its romantic verses. The room is adorned with lush velvet draperies and antique furniture, setting the scene for a world where manners, class, and etiquette reign supreme.
Your delicate fingers skim through every romance book there is.
As you select a book and settle into the armchair, the world outside slowly began to fade away. You immerse yourself in the intricate and vivid description, momentarily escaping the constraints of your era into the enchanting world of literature.
(…)
It is the next morning, as the sun timidly filtered through the drawn blinds in your room, its radiant presence compelling you to squint and shield your eyes.
The birds chirped and the sky is painted with bright whites and bright yellows streamed through the window, a sense of lightness enveloped you. Starting the day with a serene countenance, you blinked away the remnants of sleep from your eyes and smiled drowsily. Your fingertips traced the cotton sheets, as you embraced the morning's gentle charm.
You summon the bell in your bedchamber, signaling to the housemaids that you are indeed awake and require a comforting, warm bath drawn. You stand on your own two feet, welcoming the housemaids inside your bedroom assisting in disrobing your white cotton nightgown.
They draw a bath, filling it with steaming water infused with fragrant oils and rose petals. You step into the tub, sinking into the comforting embrace of the warm, scented embrace, a welcome respite from the chill of the morning.
As you soaked in the fragrant bath, your thoughts drifted to the impending ball. You longed for any additional information your mother might have left off about this highly anticipated event, eager for every intricate detail to fuel your anticipation.
Truth be told, your curiosity about meeting Viscount Simon Riley was quite overwhelming. You harbored an occurring hope that he would prove to be the epitome of a true gentleman. Your mother's praises of him fueled your optimism, suggesting he was a man of impeccable character and esteemed authority, which only heightened your eagerness to make his acquaintance.
Excitement was a vast understatement for the emotions coursing through you.
The revelation that Simon was not only close to your father, the King, but also held a special bond with your brother left you astounded. While many men enjoyed proximity to your father and eldest brother, the depth of connection your mother had described set Simon apart from them all. It led you to believe that he was indeed the definition of a true gentleman.
"Ladies, may I inquire if you have all gathered the latest tidbits of information regarding the upcoming ball?" You found yourself pondering, the fragrant bubbles in the warm bath soothing your senses, as you leaned back against the porcelain tub's elegant curves.
"Not quite, Your Highness," she informed, her voice filled with anticipation. "We've heard rumors that hundreds shall grace the occasion." Excitement surged through your entire being. Finally, the time had arrived to mingle with society, to dance, and to revel. It had been several long months since the last grand ball, and the prospect filled you with eager anticipation.
"Are any of you acquainted with Viscount Simon Riley?" Curiosity overtook you, though you couldn't quite fathom why. After all, you hadn't yet crossed paths with the man, and here you were, posing a question of seemingly little consequence to your maids.
They all gasped and stood quiet, maybe you have said something wrong.
"He is not a man of whom one speaks ill of," she responded cautiously, her voice betraying a hint of unease. "Viscount Simon Riley wields significant power and authority. However, Your Highness, that is all I am permitted to share." Her nervousness was evident, as if she were tiptoeing around a topic that carried great weight.
Your eyebrows raised in surprise. This was information your mother had yet to share with you. The maids' description of Viscount Simon Riley sent a shiver down your spine, an ironic sensation given the warmth of the bathwater enveloping you.
"Do not worry, my mother shall remain unaware of this conversation," you assured with a gentle smile and a nod, watching as the tension melted from their bodies.
The curiosity within you compelled you to seek more information. "Can any of you describe his appearance?" You observed the maids exchanging uncertain glances before turning their attention back to you. As warm water continued to flow over your body, their soothing massages on your arms accompanied the anticipation of their response.
“It is okay to tell me,” you reassured with a playful giggle, “once again, mother will not know of this. It is not like you have committed treason!”
"Indeed, Your Highness," she began to speak in hushed tones, her voice carrying an air of trepidation. "Discussing Viscount Simon is a delicate matter. His influence is undeniably formidable, and we speak with a measure of fear." Her concern seemed to stem from the notion that their conversation might somehow reach the ears of this powerful figure.
A shiver of apprehension coursed through you. The maids' fear had a way of rubbing off on you, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about this Viscount Simon.
All excitement about meeting him quickly faded away into the endless void, everything your mother had described about him paled in comparison to the unsettling image the maids were painting of this man.
"Whispers of his enigmatic persona have swept through the highest echelons of society, Your Highness. They speak of him donning a finely crafted mask, shrouding his countenance in secrecy. Only a privileged handful among the Ton have been granted the privilege of glimpsing his true visage, and even the slightest revelation of his features carries the weightiest charge of all – high treason."
You gasped. Oh dear.
"Why does he shroud himself in such mystery?" The quest for information left you yearning for more knowledge. How is it that his existence remained hidden from your awareness until this moment?
Their fearful glances held your attention as they continued, "Your Highness, we remain ignorant of his motives for wearing that ominous mask. Its design, reminiscent of a skull, has earned him the haunting name of 'Ghost' among the hushed whispers of society."
Goosebumps prickled across your skin, and a shiver of fear coursed through you. The once-anticipated ball had transformed into a nightmarish affair, shrouded in dread and uncertainty.
He scared you, and you haven’t even met the man.
"That's enough, ladies. Please, remove this bath swiftly," you commanded. Your mood had done a complete somersault, and now you were acutely aware of your surroundings. It felt as though an ominous presence was creeping into your room, even though he hasn’t arrived yet.
Or maybe he has, but you’ve yet to know.
No no, don’t worry yourself of such horrid thoughts.
You repeat and repeat over and over. The fear of darkness and the ominous weighed heavily on your heart. It was a secret fear, one you dared not share, for you knew that if anyone discovered it, they would only dismiss your worries with laughter and reassurances.
The maids, their hands deft and efficient, hurried over to where you stood by the bath, wrapping you in plush towels to dry your delicate skin. With precision, they helped you into a graceful blue chemise dress, its fabric cool and comforting against your form, the intricate lacework and delicate embroidery adorning it a testament to their impeccable craftsmanship.
Each lace on the dress was adorned with a multitude of tiny individual diamonds, their facets catching even the faintest glimmers of light. The shade of blue, a soft and ethereal hue, served as the perfect canvas for these sparkling gems, making them gleam like stars in the darkness.
"'Tis a truly exquisite chemise," you whispered in admiration, extending your arms gracefully for the maids to slip on your pristine white gloves.
"Made for Her Highness, indeed, just like a rare diamond," your maids complimented, their words like a soothing balm to your nerves. Their unwavering support for uplifting your spirits never failed to bolster your confidence.
"Thank you, ladies. I must take my leave now, as there are matters to discuss with my mother and duties to attend to," you graciously replied, ready to face the responsibilities that awaited you.
(…)
"Yes, Your Majesty. The ball is scheduled for the end of this week, and all is proceeding as planned. Every detail has been meticulously arranged, and all members of the Ton have received their invitations," spoke your mother’s friend at morning call.
She took a delicate sip of her chamomile tea before speaking once more, her voice calm, "That is indeed wonderful news. I pray that everything proceeds without a hitch, and I have the utmost confidence that mishaps shall remain a distant concern." Her friend nods, before turning to you to ask a question.
You straightened your posture and offered a warm smile, "You are truly lovely, my dear. If I may inquire, are you excited for this upcoming ball?" As the question lingered in the air, a torrent of unsettling thoughts flooded your mind. The words of the maids, the mention of the enigmatic "Ghost," and the eerie mask all coalesced into a haunting collage of images. Your body quivered involuntarily, and a palpable sense of unease washed over you, like an ominous shadow creeping into the room.
You masked your true feelings expertly, putting on a facade of excitement. It was clear that your enthusiasm was reserved solely for your brother, not for the Viscount. You knew all too well that you couldn't reveal your fear, so you concealed it behind a carefully crafted persona, concealing the trepidation that lurked beneath the surface.
“Indeed I am quite cheerful. I already know well enough that this ball will be the best of this year.”
She takes a bite of her honey cake, proceeding to invade you with more questions. Questions you were not comfortable answering.
“Well yes…your mother—Her Majesty—is hosting the ball.”
"Ah, yes, of course," you quickly replied, feeling a bit flustered by the reminder. Her raised eyebrow and condescending gaze made you feel like a naive child, an unsettling sensation you couldn't quite shake off.
“Your Majesty, has she not yet met Viscount Riley?” Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Viscount Riley's name, sending a chill down your spine. The palace suddenly felt much colder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. It was an uncomfortable and awkward moment for her to bring up such a question in the presence of your mother, Her Majesty.
"I am not privy to such information, my dear. However, I have every confidence that she will excel in his company and extend to him the respect I have diligently imparted. Would you not agree, my dearest?"
You nod graciously, before her friend decided to open her mouth once more with questions that made you shift in your seat. Uncomfortably.
"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty, but I have had the privilege of seeing him in person. And, if I may say..." Her voice trailed off, and her response piqued your curiosity, causing your brow to arch. It was evident that she was quite eager to acquire more information about a man you had not yet had the chance to meet.
“He is quite tall,” she began, and your mother adjusted her posture, “he holds such authority and he is not the man to disrespect, he doesn’t speak unless spoken to and most certainly does not show his face to just anyone.”
The maids' prior revelations had served as a disconcerting confirmation. Fear welled up within you, growing like a thunderhead on the horizon, and it cast a foreboding pall over what had once been an eagerly anticipated ball. The event, once a beacon of excitement, had transformed into a looming specter that filled you with apprehension and uncertainty.
“It is quite a mystery, but it is none of our business. Maybe if he is truly as good of a man he is, I will have him marry my daughter.” Your tea to become a chaotic spray, dispersing droplets and saliva particles across the table’s contents. Your cheeks flush crimson as you glance at your mother, her expression clearly reflecting her shock and disapproval.
“Deepest apologies mother, but marriage?” Her lips tightened as you contemplated her words. “If he proves to be a good man, then perhaps. If not, then no. You are two and twenty, it is time you settle down my dearest.”
“I do not know him.”
"Indeed, there is an abundance of time for you to become better acquainted with him," your mother replied with an encouraging smile. Her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of a promising match for her beloved daughter. "I've heard such positive things about Viscount Simon," she continued, her tone brimming with optimism. "He is reputed to be a true gentleman, and I can't help but hold high hopes for your future together, my dearest."
The description of Viscount Simon had already sent shivers of fear down your spine, and the thought of falling in love was an entirely different realm of uncertainty. You wondered if you'd ever experience the kind of love immortalized in poetry and literature, given the enigmatic and potentially imposing nature of this match.
You decided to let the future unfold at its own pace, allowing it to chart its course without rushing or forcing any outcomes.
You held a clear standard for your future husband: he must be a respectful and considerate man, not exhibiting any sexist, disrespectful, misogynistic, or rude behavior. However, if he proved to be the all those things, then marriage would not happen. Your mother, Her Majesty, fully comprehended your stance on the matter.
You valued a man who showed genuine interest in your passions and didn't pass judgment on them. Mutual respect and shared interests were important to you in a potential partner.
While you recognized the significance of politics and manly duties in society, you weren't inclined to marry a man solely focused on these matters. A well-rounded individual who embraced a broader range of interests and pursuits was more appealing to you.
Your mother knew that.
And you prayed the Viscount lived up to to your high standards.
(…)
On the night of the ball, you stood in front of the grand mirror, the flickering candlelight casting a soft, golden glow across your reflection. Your gown, an exquisite creation of silk and lace, clung to your figure in all the right places, its color a subtle shade of pink. The delicate embroidery and beadwork shimmered in the dim light.
Your heart raced, and your gloved hands trembled as you practiced your breathing, trying to calm the storm of nerves within you. The anticipation of meeting Viscount Simon, coupled with the pressure of societal expectations, weighed heavily on your mind. The maids had spared no effort in choosing every accessory, from the intricate hairpin adorning your carefully styled hair to the elegant necklace that graced your neck.
You hoped, with each practiced breath, that tonight would be a turning point, that Viscount Simon would prove to be the gentleman your mother believed him to be, and that the evening would be the start of something meaningful in your life.
——
"Good afternoon, dearest," your father inquired, his arm linked with your mother's. "Where are your siblings?"
You look around, carefully examining the palace in attempt to look for your other siblings, and you’ve caught them. Relief washed over you.
"They are in the library room, Father," you replied. Your gaze wandered over the opulent floral arrangements that adorned the palace. Vibrant blooms graced the staircase and the grand room's tables, filling the air with a fragrant aroma. The Ton had indeed turned out in force for this event, with couples arriving, their arms elegantly linked, creating a sea of fashionable attendees, and not a single person seemed to be without a date.
Although you’re the princess of the United Kingdom, you oddly felt…out of place.
"Mother, you've done a splendid job. This place looks absolutely marvelous," you praised, appreciating the grandeur and elegance that surrounded you. Her smile radiated with warmth, and her pink dress, a few shades darker than yours, effortlessly outshone all the other gowns the ladies wore in the palace, commanding attention with its regal allure.
Diamond encrusted corset with a matching diamond necklace, and many layers underneath the dress made it seem larger.
Of course, it was your mother, the Queen, who had graced the event with her radiant presence. Her regal attire and demeanor left no room for doubt about her esteemed status in the grand ballroom.
“Good evening, Your Majesty.” A man who appeared to be taller than your dad, bowed before him and shook his hand.
“Good evening, John. How is it here compared to the states?” The states? He must be American, you are sure.
“It is rather marvelous here, we don’t host balls as often as you do, but this ball is alluring.” And he is American so it seems, the accent was crisp.
“Thank you, John. I hosted this ball.” He bowed to the queen, your mother, before bowing down to you.
“Well of course, Her Majesty created the most perfect ball.” He complimented. Twirling the ends of his mustache, this was the first time you’ve ever met an American.
Your mother smiled, appreciating his sweet compliment towards her. “I must get back to Kyle, Ghost should be here any minute now Your Majesty.”
The mention of "Ghost" made your nerves prickle with unease, considering the unsettling details your maids had shared during your bath. As John reminded your father that Ghost would be arriving shortly, your stomach tightened with knots of apprehension. The looming presence of this mysterious figure cast a shadow over the otherwise glamorous evening.
“Thank you, John. I am quite cheerful in meeting him. It has been far too long.”
John bowed and left the area.
Your mother's concern deepened as she observed the horrified expression etched across your face. She gently placed a hand on your arm and whispered, "Dear, you look as if you're on the brink of fainting. Please, go to the refreshments and fetch yourself a glass of water. Take a moment to compose yourself." Your motherly care enveloped you, and you nodded, grateful for the suggestion to step away briefly from the anxiety that had gripped you.
The grand ballroom began to feel suffocating, and you yearned for a breath of fresh air, a momentary escape from the overwhelming atmosphere. The need to step outside and simply breathe because it became nearly overwhelming, and you decided it was time for a brief respite.
He will be here soon, and there is no avoiding it. This thought completely gnawed at your insides and there is no place for you to hide.
"Sister, are you feeling well?" your eldest sibling inquired, her cream-colored chemise beautifully complementing her shimmering jewelry. Her concerned gaze met yours, and you could sense that she found something amiss in your expression. The irony was not lost on you, given that you were about to meet a man who also bore the name "Ghost."
"I am feeling rather ill," you responded, fabricating a falsehood to avoid the impending meeting with "Ghost." While part of you wanted to avoid this mysterious figure, there was an even stronger desire to reunite with your dear brother. Your deception was a way to navigate the complex emotions and uncertainty of the evening.
How unfortunate. This man will haunt your dreams.
——
You made your way outside, the chilly breeze sweeping over your face as you finally found a moment to breathe. The cool air provided a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere inside, and you closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of liberation that came with each deep breath.
As you’re breathing the cool air, a voice is heard from a distance.
"My dearest sister, always wandering," your brother chuckled warmly as he approached. You turned your head swiftly at the sound of his voice and finally laid eyes on your sibling after many long months. He appeared strikingly different, somehow taller and more muscular, and the transformation left you momentarily speechless with surprise and joy.
"Brother!" You couldn't contain your excitement and ran up to him, welcoming him with open arms. The embrace felt like it lasted an eternity, as you cherished every moment, not knowing how long he would stay. It was a precious reunion, and you wanted to make the most of it.
"How have you been? I suppose everything has been well while I was away?" he inquired, his arms crossed as he surveyed the palace grounds. It was just the two of you outside, and he seemed genuinely interested in catching up on all that had transpired during his absence.
Amid the tranquility of the palace gardens, your brother's question hung in the air, and he observed his surroundings with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. The evening's hushed elegance enveloped both of you as you began to catch up. He looked different from when you last saw him, and you couldn't help but wonder about the experiences that had shaped him during his time away. It was a moment filled with anticipation, longing, and the joy of reconnecting with your brother.
"It has been quite well! Rather normal," you replied with a smile, acknowledging the routine and calmness that had become the norm in his absence. His head tilted as he teased, "The word you're searching for is 'boring,' isn't it? After all, the fun brother hasn't been around." His hearty chuckle filled the air, bringing a touch of lightheartedness to the conversation.
“That is true. I have missed you a ton.”
“And I have missed you more, my dear sister.”
You couldn't help but glance around, hoping against hope that Viscount Riley had not yet arrived. The idea of facing him at this moment was almost unbearable, and you found yourself anxiously searching the surroundings for any sign of his presence.
How awkward.
"Oh, I thought you arrived with a guest," you blurted out, your hope that he had an emergency and didn't come alone shining through your words. The prospect of meeting "Ghost" or Viscount Riley had filled you with apprehension, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread at the thought of encountering him in person. Your brother's response would determine whether your unease would intensify or be somewhat alleviated.
But it was not.
“He is here, in fact, he is inside speaking to our father. I highly suggest you meet him, he is a fine gentleman, though he might frighten some. I can assure you, he means well.”
Meeting him now seemed almost inevitable, and you had to prepare yourself for this encounter with the enigmatic figure.
It is time you met him, to get it over with once and for all.
(…)
Viscount Riley stood before you, his face obscured by a mask that added an aura of mystique to his presence. As you gazed into his eyes, you sensed a depth of emotions and stories waiting to be unveiled. It was a stark contrast to the fear you had felt just moments ago, and now, you found yourself admiring this enigmatic figure, eager to learn more about the man behind the mask.
"Your Highness," his voice, deep and gravely, greeted you. An unfamiliar warmth spread through your stomach, causing your cheeks to flush crimson. It was a sensation you couldn't quite understand. Why did you suddenly feel so flustered in his presence?
"Good evening, My Lord. I extend my gratitude for making the journey to attend this ball," you replied politely, determined to make a favorable first impression, despite your royal status as a princess.
Your mother's friend had not exaggerated; Viscount Riley was indeed exceptionally tall, almost appearing otherworldly. Inhumane. His muscular physique was apparent even beneath the luxurious waistcoat he wore. The choice of an all-black ensemble, combined with the white skull-like mask, added to the air of mystery and intrigue that surrounded him, making his presence all the more imposing.
As Viscount Riley closed the distance between you, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, and your heart quickened with each step he took. His hand, encased in a fine glove, reached out, and you watched in fascination, your gaze locked on his as your brows raised. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, leaving you both on the precipice of an intriguing encounter.
"Care for a dance?" Viscount Riley extended the invitation, his eyes lingering on you as he assessed your presence. His gaze felt almost intimate, as if he were undressing you with his eyes, although you quickly chastised yourself for such inappropriate thoughts. The offer to dance hung in the air, and you considered your response carefully.
You nod, “yes, My Lord.”
"Call me Simon, Your Highness," he suggested, his eyes captivating you with their natural hues in the dim light. They seemed to glisten like moonlight. You hesitated, feeling a mix of intrigue and reluctance. "I'm not sure I am comfortable calling you that," you admitted honestly, the formality of addressing him by his title still lingering between you.
"I have granted you permission, my love. Call me Simon, in private," he whispered softly into your ear, his words tinged with an intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine. His scent, a heady blend of sandalwood, enveloped your senses, and the warmth of his breath against your skin caused a flush of heat to spread through your body, leaving you feeling quite overwhelmed in his presence.
My love.
"Do you know how to dance?" Viscount Simon inquired, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, eliciting a soft gasp from you. As you turned to examine the ballroom, you noticed your family watching with smiles on their faces. "I do, Simon," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the intimate moment you shared.
"How about the waltz? Are you familiar with that?" Viscount Simon's hand slipped behind your back, drawing you closer to him in an intimate embrace. Your mouth hung open in astonishment at his boldness, aware of the watchful eyes of the Ton in the ballroom. The closeness between you two, especially in such a public setting, was bound to attract attention and speculation.
"That…I do not know how to," you admitted truthfully. The waltz was indeed a dance you had never mastered, primarily because it required a partner to perform it. The admission was honest, though it left you feeling somewhat vulnerable in this moment with Viscount Simon.
As he continued to examine you, Viscount Simon couldn't deny the striking beauty that stood before him. The tension between you grew thicker, almost suffocating, and he felt a subtle but undeniable change within himself. His chest rose with each breath, and with every passing moment, he seemed to grow larger, as if the weight of the atmosphere and unspoken emotions were affecting him physically.
“I will teach you, Your Highness.” He took your right hand into his left, wrapping his other large hand behind your waist. Pulling you inches closer, if that were possible. You were practically glued to his body.
Your left hand found its place on Viscount Simon's shoulder, and as your touch made contact, you couldn't help but notice the spark in his eyes intensify, transforming into a fiery gaze. The sensation coursing between you was entirely new and left you feeling uncertain about how to navigate it. Yet, there was one undeniable truth: it felt like the pages of a romance novel coming to life, and the allure of the moment was impossible to ignore.
The world around you seemed to fade away, as he began to guide you through the graceful motions of the dance.
He leaned down to your ear, “tell me, love, have you ever done this with anyone before?” You shook your head nervously.
Viscount Simon was nothing like the enigmatic and intimidating figure you had imagined before. He had swiftly disproven your earlier apprehensions, showing himself to be a skilled and confident dance partner. However, the lingering mystery of his masked appearance still intrigued you. Why did he choose to conceal his identity in such a way? Was it a habit, a comfort, or perhaps a symbol of something deeper? As he expertly swayed you through the dance, all your earlier fears seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of fascination and curiosity about this complex man.
“What is going on in that head of yours?”
"I am just trying to be focused, My Lord," you replied, a touch of nerves still present in your voice. He cleared his throat before offering words of encouragement, "You are doing great. Don't think too hard about it, or you'll make a mistake." His reassurance helped ease some of the tension, and you tried to follow his lead with more confidence, allowing the rhythm of the dance to guide your steps.
“Everyone in the room are watching us.”
"Imagine it's just us, Your Highness. Nothing to fret," Viscount Simon whispered, his words a soothing balm to your nerves. With that simple suggestion, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing yourself to immerse in the moment, focusing solely on the dance and the connection you shared, the world around you fading into the background.
"Very well done," Viscount Simon praised, a touch of warmth in his voice. His encouragement and guidance continued to make the dance feel like a shared experience, and you found yourself becoming more at ease with each step, as though the world outside this dance floor had ceased to exist.
The instrumental music slowly started to fade away, as you became enchanted under his mysterious gaze.
In the mesmerizing dance with Viscount Simon, you counted each step and movement carefully. One, a step forward, followed by several backward steps. Then, you counted to two as he gracefully led you to the side, and you followed his lead with precision, completely entranced by the rhythm and grace of the waltz.
"May I ask you a few questions?" you inquired, looking up at Viscount Simon. Or should you call him simply Simon? Your curiosity about the man behind the mask had grown steadily throughout the dance, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to satisfy it.
"Yes, Your Highness," Viscount Simon replied, his tone respectful as you continued to dance in harmony.
"How long have you been in the military? I can only imagine it's been quite some time," you mused, curious about the path that had led him to his current station. Viscount Simon's physical fitness and the air of intrigue that surrounded him certainly hinted at a rich and varied history. Those eyes of his seemed to hold countless untold stories, and you couldn't help but be drawn to the mystery that shrouded his past.
"I am quite intrigued that someone has inquired about this, especially the princess. It's an honor," Viscount Simon began, a hint of appreciation in his voice. He continued, "I've served in the military for a considerable duration." His sigh hinted at a deeper story. "But I must wonder, why do you ask, Your Highness?" There was a curious and genuine note in his inquiry, as if he too was interested in the motives behind your questions.
His question took you off guard, and you momentarily pause for a moment. Heat swept across your face, and your stomach felt like a hundred butterflies were attacking it at once.
You clear your throat, preparing yourself to speak the truth.
"Well, your physique does suggest you've had a long tenure in the British military," you stated, your words coming out more bluntly than you had intended. You looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed by your straightforward observation. It was as if the words had slipped out of their own accord, revealing your unfiltered thoughts about him.
His head tilts as you both continue the dance, the tension became thicker in the moment.
“I’m glad you’ve noticed that, you have quite the eye darling.”
"I suppose it is rather evident," Viscount Simon replied with a good-natured chuckle, acknowledging the obvious. His height and impressive physical presence were indeed difficult to overlook, and it was refreshing to engage in such candid conversation with him.
“I would like to continue this conversation another time, Your Highness.” The music stopped, and suddenly your heart ached.
The fear and apprehension you had felt before meeting Viscount Simon now seemed misplaced and misjudged. Shame washed over you as you realized that your initial impressions had been far from accurate. Emotions you had never experienced before welled up within you, and you found yourself struggling to process this newfound connection and the complex feelings it stirred within you.
"You look quite sick, Your Highness. Should I summon a doctor?" Viscount Simon's concern was evident in his voice, and he signaled his readiness to assist. However, you shook your head, declining the offer. His expression shifted, and the color of his eyes darkened noticeably. The once-bright stars in his gaze seemed to fade, leaving a shadow of concern and curiosity in their wake.
"I must retire to my bedchamber at once. It seems I may have eaten something disagreeable," you explained, offering a plausible reason for your sudden discomfort. As you made your exit, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected attachment you had felt during the dance. Was it the chemistry that had taken you by surprise, or the disappointment of the dance ending so soon when you had secretly wanted it to continue? The confusion within you left you with much to ponder as you retreated from the ballroom.
You heard heavy footsteps in the distance, and you face the sound. Heart beating so fast and hard that you’re afraid it’ll break your ribcage.
Your eyes widened as you glanced back, catching the intense gaze of the tall man in the distance—Viscount Simon. The burning sensation in your stomach flared once more, and your heart raced at the unexpected encounter. It seemed that your paths had crossed again, and the intrigue surrounding him deepened further.
“My Lord, you are not permitted in this area,” you stuttered, your voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and unease. Viscount Simon’s inhumanly towering presence had a profound effect on you, causing your knees to grow weak and your heart to race.
The unexpected encounter left you feeling both vulnerable and intrigued, uncertain of what would come next.
Viscount Simon continued to approach you, seemingly unperturbed by your protest. His voice, when he spoke, carried a darker, gravely, and husky timbre, each word rolling off his tongue with a depth that sent shivers down your spine. It was a voice that held a mysterious allure, and as he drew nearer, you found yourself captivated by the man before you.
“You are still not allowed here, My Lord. Unless are married to me or if you have permission to do—“ he interrupted you for a brief moment, your breath hitched. “Do I have your permission?”
His simple question held a weight that left you questioning your own dignity and morals. "I-I suppose you may. I don't believe you'd cause any harm," you replied tentatively, your nerves causing you to fidget with your hands.
Viscount Simon took note of your hesitation and reached out to gently take your hands in his own. His touch was surprisingly rough and calloused, yet it had a calming effect on your frayed nerves. The unexpected gesture further deepened the sense of connection between you two, leaving you both intrigued and comforted by the enigmatic man before you.
The entire experience felt like something out of a romance novel, a dream brought to life. It was something you had never been entirely sure would happen to you, yet now, it had. The enchanting dance, the mysterious encounter with Viscount Simon, and the complex emotions that had unfolded were all like a dream come true, turning the pages of a story you had never expected to live.
“Open the door, the guards are all downstairs, no need to fret.” He demanded, in a gentle manner.
You obediently opened the door, allowing Viscount Simon to enter. As he stepped into your bedroom, a breeze swept in from the open window, which you had forgotten to close before attending the ball. The cool air helped alleviate the heat on your flushed face, and you welcomed the refreshing sensation, finding comfort in the natural element that had invited itself into your bedroom.
"This is my bedroom," you announced, leading Viscount Simon on a brief tour. You observed him as he moved toward your bed and the bookshelf. His large hands gently skimmed over the rows of books, and his eyes, visible through the skull-like mask, carefully scanned the titles.
“I didn’t take you for such a romance reader, Jane Austen, Your Highness?”
You noticed his finger resting on “Pride and Prejudice” and felt compelled to explain. “Yes, most of them are by Jane Austen, but her works are more than just romance,” you informed him, eager to share your love for literature.
“Excuse me, but there’s not a single book here that is not romance.” His interest in your personal space and choice of reading material piqued your curiosity even further. “Are you an expert perhaps?”
"No, I am not," you admitted, your tone laced with a hint of shame. The vulnerability in sharing this aspect of yourself with Viscount Simon revealed a layer of your character that you hadn't expected to expose during this encounter.
"I can teach you some things from these books, unless you already possess the knowledge," Viscount Simon offered. He selected a random chapter from one of the books and began to read aloud, his gaze eventually shifting back to you.
With his arms now crossed, the buttons on his vest seemed on the verge of bursting due to the muscles that strained against it. The prospect of learning from him, coupled with the undeniable physical presence he exuded, left you intrigued and eager to explore this connection further.
"Knowledge of what?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by his statement. As Viscount Simon approached you, his every step seemed to carry a weight of its own, and you couldn't help but notice the way his breaths grew heavier, causing his chest to rise with each intake of air.
His masked face concealed most of his expressions, but his eyes continued to hold your attention, revealing a shift in his demeanor that intrigued you even more.
"May I, Your Highness?" Viscount Simon asked softly as he gently lifted your chin with his index finger, tilting it upward until your gazes locked completely. The sudden and intimate gesture left you gasping for air, and a rush of emotions from earlier returned with a renewed intensity. In that moment, it felt as if the world outside your shared space had ceased to exist.
You nodded, still unsure of what he was asking for, and confusion clouded your thoughts. Suddenly, Viscount Simon closed the distance between the two of you, narrowing the gap until you were in close proximity, and your breaths seemed to synchronize in that intimate space.
His lips were soft, and everything you read in the books are now suddenly real.
Viscount Simon’s right hand gently cradled the back of your neck, securing you in his embrace as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was passionate, intense, and consuming, leaving you both breathless and addicted to the taste and sensation of each other. In this private room that had once held your deepest secrets, it now bore witness to your first kiss, a moment that defied propriety but felt undeniably right in that intoxicating connection between you two.
In the midst of the heated kiss, every thought and worry seemed to vanish from your mind. Viscount Simon's warm tongue ventured into your mouth, igniting a rush of desire that left you breathless. You held onto his vest with a desperate grip, the fabric of his waistcoat beneath your fingertips offering an anchor in the whirlwind of sensations that coursed through you. The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in this intimate exchange, a forbidden connection that felt undeniably intense and irresistible.
He must’ve kept all this encased during the dance…
Viscount Simon's strong hand cupped your face, holding you tenderly as the intensity of the kiss grew. His groans of pleasure became more pronounced, and the raw desire in his sounds threatened to melt you into a puddle beneath him. The fire in your belly surged, an insatiable heat that refused to be extinguished. Every vein in your body seemed to pulse with desire as you couldn't help but wonder where he had been all this time, and why it had taken so long for your paths to cross in such an electrifying way.
"You... taste delicious," Viscount Simon murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva briefly connecting your reddened and swollen lips before breaking. Both of you were left breathless, taking moments to regain your composure as you watched Simon also catch his breath. His remark left you feeling dizzy and uncertain about what had just transpired, and the lingering question of why it had happened hung in the air between you.
“My Lord, why did you kiss me just now?” You broke the silence, and he looks up at you, still panting.
“I sincerely apologize for my actions, Your Highness, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Your voice wavered with a mix of desire and frustration as you implored, "Stop asking me such questions before I do something completely and utterly outrageous." The tension between you and Viscount Simon had reached an almost unbearable peak, and your words conveyed both the temptation and the peril of this magnetic connection that had ignited between you.
Your brows furrow, “I don’t understand what I did, My Lord.”
"Simon, Your Highness," he corrected, his tone both firm and possessive as he closed the distance between you once again. The formality mingled with intimacy in his address, emphasizing the complexity of your connection and the roles you both occupied in this uncharted territory of desire and longing.
Suddenly, Viscount Simon began to undress your chemise, leaving you with only your undergarments. Your voice quivered as you confessed, "Simon, I was told this was not allowed unless I am married..." The touch of his hands against your skin felt like lava, igniting a blazing heat that coursed through your body. The boundaries and proprieties that had once defined your world seemed to blur and fade in the face of this overwhelming desire and vulnerability.
“Do you want this?” He asked, a simple question that made you answer it in less than a second. You wanted to shout “yes” but that was deemed highly inappropriate. So you kept quiet and all you did was nod, though, Simon kept asking.
“A nod won’t do, Your Highness. I need to know if you want me to touch you, to kiss every inch of your body, to explore depths no other man has ever explored, and to tell you that you are mine. Do you want that?”
In that suspended moment, you gazed at him in awe, realizing that every description he had given you, every hint of desire and passion he had conveyed, was everything you had been longing for. It was everything you so desperately wanted. The anticipation that had built within you had finally reached its culmination, and now, in this moment, it had all become a breathtaking reality.
"I want you to do all of the above," you confessed in a breathy, fervent tone. In that intimate moment, you could discern the expression in Viscount Simon's eyes behind his mask, and the desire and hunger mirrored in his gaze confirmed the depth of the connection you both shared.
Lust.
Viscount Simon began to unbutton his vest and everything else beneath his waistcoat, gradually revealing his sculpted torso. Each chiseled muscle seemed to tell a story of years of hard work and sacrifice, with every scar etching its own narrative.
Unable to contain your fascination, you traced your fingers delicately across each scar, causing Simon to flinch at your touch. The intimacy of this moment, where you explored the physical evidence of his past, deepened the connection between you even further.
You asked in a voice tinged with sadness, “When and how have you gotten these?” Your fingers continued to trace the scars on his torso, and a part of you wished that he had never had to endure the pain and suffering that each mark represented.
“I would like to talk about these another time, I don’t want to ruin this moment, love.” You understood.
He gets up from off his knees and places both his hands besides you, you sat on the edge of the bed as he leans towards your face. “Would you like me to undress you, Your Highness?”
"You may," you breathed in response, your need for his touch growing more intense with each passing moment. Viscount Simon didn't completely undress you; instead, he lifted your petticoat all the way up to your waist, exposing your white cotton undergarments to him. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you hid your face, unable to meet his gaze as your desire and vulnerability laid bare before him.
"In all my years of living, I've never seen someone so perfect," Viscount Simon whispered, his words of admiration sending shivers down your spine. He lowered his face to your thighs, and you gasped at the sensation of his soft lips and warm breath trailing across your bare skin. He left a trail of peppered kisses as he slowly made his way to your most sacred and intimate spot, igniting a fiery passion between you that seemed to transcend time and place.
Simon hooks his fingers on the band of your undergarment, and slid them off, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His jaw locks, looking at you like you’re the prey and he’s the predator, ready to devour his meal and fulfill his hunger.
"What are you going to do?" you questioned, your voice filled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Despite your previous experiences with literature and romance, this moment was uncharted territory, and you found yourself both intrigued and apprehensive about what might come next.
He completely ignored your question, taking his finger and touching it on your most sensitive spot. You gripped the cotton sheets, it became victim to your tight hold.
“Your Highness, this spot right here, may cause some discomfort.” He warned, his rough finger circling the bud slowly.
You struggled to breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you found it difficult to form the right words. Your senses were overwhelmed, and your mind raced as you desperately tried to find your voice and articulate your thoughts in this intense and intimate moment.
Small whines and moans left your mouth, putting Simon in a haze. “Now right here,” his finger slid down your throbbing folds, “may hurt, darling.”
You balance yourself on both your elbows, seeing the intense sight in front of you. Simon’s head was in between your legs, and his fingers were on your cunt.
His middle finger enters a part of you that made you let out a scream in response, he may have warned you before, but it still hurt. “Did I hurt you, love? If you’d like me to stop, I can.”
"No, please," you assured him, your voice trembling with both desire and reassurance. "I assure you, I am fine." His hands remained firmly pressed against your thighs, and you welcomed him further into this intimate connection, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you.
“Tell me when you’d like me to stop, my princess.”
My Princess. That alone let a moan escape your lips.
His finger began to slide in and out, and the sensations that surged through you left you breathless. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, a new and overwhelming experience that had your body tingling with desire and your mind racing with sensations you had never felt before.
"Oh, Simon..." you whimpered, your head thrashing from side to side as he continued to pay no heed to your whimpers and moans. His mouth descended to your most intimate place, and he began to explore you fully, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you surrendered to the exquisite sensations that washed over you.
“Stay still.” He ordered, ignoring your protests as his hands make their way to your waist and back to your thighs. Gripping them as if he’s scared you’re going to somehow leave his hold. His tongue laps against your entrance as his finger continued to slide inside and out, then quickly adding a second finger.
“Simon!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the room, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation that surged through you. The knots in your stomach tugged tighter, intensifying the anticipation as you neared the peak of ecstasy, the culmination of desire and longing.
Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, their delicate silk fabric clinging tightly as his warm breath tickles your inner thighs. With each gentle brush of his nose against your bud, a delicious shiver of anticipation courses through your body, intensifying the electric connection between you.
And there, you couldn’t take it anymore. You unraveled underneath him as he continued to devour you, his grip intensified as you thrashed your head around. Every delicate moans escaped your mouth, and you thought you’d never make these noises in your life, yet here you are.
“You are bloody delicious, my love, so sweet.” He kissed your thighs as he hovers over you. His breathe heaving and his chest covered in sweat. You couldn’t deny the attractiveness in front of you, it was almost impossible how someone could look this good in a mask.
"Thank you, Simon," you expressed your gratitude, and in his mysterious eyes, a glint of admiration shimmered like a hidden treasure in the depths of a secret world you had just begun to explore together.
“It is my honor, Your Highness. I am sure the next time we visit, it won’t be the same as this.”
"What do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity piqued, and an unspoken desire that he would stay by your side forever welled up within you. He sighed, his breath carrying the weight of unspoken truths, and his eyes held a depth of emotions that begged to be explored further.
"I mean, Your Highness," he began, his voice holding a note of determination, "that I will never let you go. I intend to reveal the deeper parts of myself to you, and I will slowly begin to show and teach you everything you desire to know." His words carried a promise of a journey into the unknown, an exploration of desires and emotions that lay hidden beneath the surface.
“I realized now more than ever, that I need you.”
——
NOTE: HOLY!!! This took a week (omg) and now it’s finally done. I’m actually so proud of this. Let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist. Once again, thank you all for reading my peeps! :) this was a promise made by me! Also, I may have watched Bridgerton hundreds of times and Queen Charlotte and all of those shows etc etc, but if there’s something historically incorrect, please inform me! I would love to correct it for future readers. Thanks once again!
#fanfic#fanfiction#call of duty#cod mw fanfiction#call of duty mwii#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#cod mwii#cod smut#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#modern warfare 2#ao3feed#ghost smut
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ROUND 4 RAAAHHH
silver w prompts 14 and 20 (the party and fake dating one)
You requested: Christmas Party + Fake Dating
YOU SIMP
Silver
“SILVER!” You shouted, relieved that you had found your friend. He was sleeping right now, but you needed him to wake up. You were being tailed by a relentless pursuer from Savanaclaw, who didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer, and you were sick and tired of him.
He originally had walked up to you in the hallway, after being hyped up by his fellow Savanaclaw bros, and asked you to the Christmas Ball. You turned him down, and it was like he had never been denied anything.
“Y/N?” His voice was slightly raspy from no use, and he was taken by surprise at how fast you were running towards him.
“Heysomeoneisfollowingmecanyouhelp?” You said in a rush, out of breath as you plopped down beside him.
“Sure?” At that moment, the student who was chasing you had a look of anger. That dissipated from his face when he saw Silver, and recognized him as a knight of Prince Malleus. The look of anger turned into a look of fear.
“Oh, I did not know you were taken by Silver… I apologize.”
“It’s alright! As you said, you didn’t know!” You sweat, and your face is a bit warm from what he said. You then felt an arm drape around your shoulders, and you turned to see Silver giving a rather pissed off look.
“You may take your leave now,” He said, voice a bit cold. You were surprised, but happy to see the student leave.
“Thank you so much, Silver… That guy would not leave me alone.”
“I doubt that this will be the end of it, but I do have a solution. You are able to say no.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Would you like to go with me to the Christmas Ball? One needs a partner to go, and I would be able to watch over the Prince. You get an escape from being with that guy.”
“Deal.” You both shook hands, as though conducting business, before laughing at the ridiculousness of this entire situation.
~~~~~~~~
The day of the Christmas Ball, you were making sure that the outfit you chose for the night was okay. It was a rather formal event, as a lot of other schools were going to be attending as well. You had to RSVP ahead of time with the name of your partner, and you got your tickets last night.
Grim was going to stay home, stating that there was no need for him to go, and you were probably going to be all over your crush anyway. When he said that, you felt your face growing warm once again as you threw the nearest thing (a pillow) at the cat.
Anyway, you made your way to the Main Street, and you found that a few students were lingering around your dormitory. You did turn down a few requests, but they were not too happy about it. Sure, you felt bad, but they didn’t have to be annoying about it.
You were looking around, but you couldn’t find Silver anywhere. The thing is, you were not allowed entrance until your partner was there. You texted him, and you did not receive a reply, so you just sat down on a bench to wait. You were lucky that you brought a jacket, as it was incredibly cold.
~~~~~~~~
At Diasomnia, a 700-year-old bat fae was helping his son tie his tie. The young man was nervous about the Christmas Ball, afraid that he may screw up with his crush.
“You won’t mess up!” He was assured, but he was not all that convinced.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, figuring it was you, and he grabbed his jacket coat on the way out of the door. Malleus was also on his way out, dressed in a suit as well. He and Lilia were technically partners, but Sebek wanted to stay behind because he had work he needed to do. It was surprising, actually, because usually he would be adamant about being where Malleus was.
The group of three made their way to the cafeteria, and that’s when the 17-year-old knight checked his phone. You told him to meet him on the main street by Ramshackle, and that you were sitting on a bench.
~~~~~~~~
You were beginning to think that your knight was never going to come, and you were about to go back to Ramshackle before you felt an arm hold you back. You were about to slap it away until you noticed that it was Silver.
“Sorry I’m late,” He said.
“It’s alright. Now we can go inside!” You said with a smile. He extended his arm out to you, and you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow as he led you to the door.
Inside, it was warm and there was a DJ. A Christmas tree was elaborately decorated in the corner of the room, and there was an entire banquet table. You recognized a few students from both RSA and Noble Bell, and you said hello to a few of them.
“All partners, make your way to the dance floor. The waltz will begin soon!” The DJ announced over the microphone. Silver turned to you, a smile on his face.
“Would you like to dance with me?” He asked. You found yourself nodding, joining your left hand with his right, placing your right hand on his shoulder. He placed his left hand on your waist, leading you in the first step.
As you both danced the night away, you couldn’t help but notice a certain emotion in his eyes. You felt it too. It was love.
After a few hours, you got a bit hungry, and decided to get a drink and some food. Your knight in shining armor accompanied you, and you decided to strike up a conversation.
“So… what happened to watching over Malleus?” You said, a smirk on your face.
He froze up, before relaxing a bit. “It is against a knight’s code to lie, so I will be honest. Prince Malleus is only half the reason why I’m here. I wanted to go with you because I want to court you. I thought this would be the perfect night to ask you.”
Now it was his turn to smirk and yours to freeze. You dropped the fork you were using to put the food on your plate.
“W-What?”
“I would like to begin courting you. You have never judged me for my condition, and you have even looked out for Sebek, someone who I view as a sibling.”
You both went to a table to further talk about it, and he carried your plate for you because your hands were shaking. He even pulled out your seat for you, making you further flustered.
“If you want to reject me or turn me down, I completely understand. I won’t be angry, and we can pretend like this never happened,” He said with a reassuring smile. However, you quickly reached your hands to hold his, surprising him.
“I don’t want to pretend this never happened… Because this is something I have been wishing for,” You started, voice a little shaky. “I would love to enter a courtship with you.”
“CONGRATULATIONS YOU TWO!!!” Lilia shouted as he walked over to your table. The sudden outburst was definitely something that spooked you, but you should have expected something like this.
“Lilia, I’m pretty sure they want to be alone with one another at the moment. I apologize for him, Silver and Child of Man,” Malleus said, walking up and ordering the former General to go away.
If Lilia was going to be your future father-in-law, you should start getting used to it.
#twst x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst wonderland#silver#silver x reader#silver vanrouge#silver vanrouge x reader#twst silver#twst silver x reader#twst silver vanrouge x reader#twst silver vanrouge
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