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themidnightcrimson · 11 months

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little pill (part 2) ࿏ wm

summary: in which you get revenge on wanda for putting libido pills in your drink.

words: 4.8K

warnings: top!wanda, drugging, dubcon/noncon, face riding, bondage/restraints, strap-on, size kink, vibrator, overstimulation, forced orgasm, wanda being so chaotically feral

this post is for 18+ only. minors: dni.

masterlist. | part 1.

Your revenge on Wanda had to be carefully planned and meticulously executed.

Dating a woman who can read minds and has an extraordinary sense of intuition made these little feats harder than usual. It shamed you how easily she’d slipped that pill to you, how easily she’d wound you up and had you foaming at the mouth for her like some sort of feral animal. Of course, Wanda reveled in it and never failed to bring it up every other day since it happened. You knew you couldn’t act too brash—if you’d tried to mimic her prank too soon, it would still be too fresh in her mind and limit your chances of getting by with it without her knowing. So, you waited.

As the months passed and Wanda seemed to forget about the little incursion, you planned your revenge. You’d managed to find the same libido pill that Wanda had used on you in her little witchy trickery. You went to the nearest store that sold it after a day of work, kept it hidden in a secret pocket of your purse when you got home and Wanda greeted you with a kiss, trying your absolute hardest to not think of the sex pills burning in your purse pocket in fear that Wanda would hear your thoughts. Out of respect, she didn’t invade your mental privacy at will, but if she got the sense of something being off, she would do what she could to figure you out.

Relief and adrenaline passed over you when Wanda let you go without questioning, and you stored the pills away in a place in the house where Wanda would not find them.

Figuring out when and how to slip Wanda the pills was the hard part. Would you crush it up and put it in her drink, the classic way? How would you do this without her noticing? Surely, she would sense your anxiety and thrill and understand what was happening, and you had a vague idea of what the punishment would be if she did.

With a lack of creativity, you decided to just go the traditional route and crush up the pills one night that you and Wanda were having wine after dinner.

“Red, please,” Wanda said from the couch, her eyes glued on the television screen. She was watching one of her favorite new shows, and you were grateful that would capture all her attention.

As you pulled two wine glasses down from the cabinets in the kitchen, you peered around to lay your eyes on Wanda in the living room. She was paying not a single ounce of attention to you. You popped a new bottle of wine and poured equal amounts into both glasses, and then decided to use the glass on your right as Wanda’s so that would be the one you hand to her first. Taking one last measured look at Wanda who was still staring at the TV, you reached into your pocket and took the little bag of crushed pills and swiftly emptied it into her glass, swirling it around with your finger and hoping that the wine didn’t look muddied. You were glad she chose red wine.

You nearly sucked your wine-stained finger clean until you realized it had been swirling around the powder, opting to wipe it off on the handtowel instead. Carefully taking Wanda’s glass in your right hand and yours in the other, you made your way into the living room trying to wrangle your pounding heart and cool your skin that burned in excitement. Wanda didn’t even look at you as you appeared in front of her and handed her the glass in your right hand.

“Thank you, baby,” she murmured as she took the glass, leaning her head around you so she could see the TV. You mumbled a welcoming reply as you sat back down beside her, your hands nearly shaking as you brought your glass to your lips. It made you feel embarrassed to know how easily and smoothly Wanda had done it to you, but here you were trying to restrain yourself from just blurting out what you had done. You wiped your face discreetly, feeling the skin hot under your touch.

Glancing at Wanda from the corner of your eyes, you watched as she brought the wine glass to her lips and took a tiny sip, licking the red liquid from her lips and sucking her cheeks inward as she moved her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Did she taste something off? Were the pills not crushed up enough?

When she only laughed at something on TV, you silently exhaled in relief and turned away, lest she catch you staring at her and wonder what’s up. You tried to quiet your thoughts and focus on the TV show as you both sipped your wine slowly.

By the time Wanda’s glass was empty and discarded on the side table, nothing had happened yet. She hadn’t even spoken to you except for a few comments on the show. You wondered if you didn’t use enough or if she had undermined your plan, and you felt stupid for thinking Wanda would be so easily fooled.

But after a few minutes of silence, Wanda started fidgeting where she sat beside you on the couch. She moved around a bit, her eyebrows creasing together in a sign of discomfort. You watched discreetly, sipping on the last half of your wine. She was acting like she couldn’t sit comfortably, until finally she decided on sitting halfway on her side, leaning towards you. You were leaning the other way, your feet propped up beside you on the couch. Her eyes flickered down to your legs, your ankle exposed by your short-cut sweatpants. She placed her palm over your ankle and rubbed it a little before leaving it there, turning her eyes back to the TV.

It wasn’t unusual for Wanda to grace little touches on you like that at random moments, but she was chewing her lip and the number 11 was forming between her brows. Her hand felt warm and clammy on your cool ankle, her thumb grazing over the bulbous bone every once in a while.

By the time you’d finished your wine and set it to the side, Wanda huffed and turned away from the TV to look at you. Acting confused, you turned to meet her gaze. She was smiling a little, pink lips curled on the ends, but there was a shimmery glaze over her softened eyes.

“What?” you asked with a nervous laugh, and now that she was staring right at you with her full attention, you began to grow paranoid that she’d figured out what you’d done. If she allowed even one peek into your nervous thoughts in that moment, she would know.

But she didn’t. She just hummed and crawled towards you on the couch, settling herself between your body and the back cushion. It was a tight hold, both of your bodies squished on the couch, and you were worried you would slip off the cushions with how close you were to the edge, but Wanda nestled her arm around your middle and pulled you back into her so tight you could hardly breathe. She loosened, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek before she returned to looking at the TV.

Your tongue anxiously explored the back of your teeth as you tried hard to breathe normally, to think normally, to not give her any indication that you were guilty. Wanda seemed placated for a moment, before she unlatched her arm around you so that she could run her hand down your hips and thigh.

“You look so pretty,” she murmured, and you felt her nose into your hair and inhale your scent. It tickled, so you giggled and squirmed, but her arm latched back around you and pulled you tight against her so that you’d be still.

Wanda pulled your hair away from your neck with her other hand and leaned forward so that she could press her lips there. It was just a kiss, a normal kiss at first, but a gasp left your throat when she suddenly sunk her teeth into your skin.

“Wanda,” you breathed, giving a nervous chuckle as she started to bite and kiss all up the side of your neck, her hand grabbing your hips and pulling you backwards into her. The TV show was long gone from her mind now.

“Baby,” she groaned, urging her hips into your ass as her grip on your hip grew tighter. “Let’s go to bed.”

It would be too easy if you gave her what she wanted right away. “Don’t you wanna finish the new episode?”

She looked back up at the TV with hesitation before she shook her head, leaning back down to attach her lips to the underside of your jaw. “Nuh uh.” Her other arm slipped under your arm, her hand coming up to latch softly around your throat, her thumb pushing your chin upwards and to the side so she could kiss your neck more freely. “Let’s go.”

“Well,” you began, feeling your body grow warm against her body that felt a thousand degrees hotter than normal. “I wanna finish the episode.”

Groaning, Wanda dug her hand into your side and bit your neck again, harder this time. You didn’t have time to whimper before she dove her hand up your shirt, reaching around and under to grab roughly at your breasts. “Please,” she whispered against your ear before kissing it. “I want you.”

Breathing shakily, you felt her grope at your breasts and pinch your nipples which had already hardened for her. Her touch was eager and impatient, and within a few moments she slipped her hand back down the expanse of your tummy and pushed it down your pants, roughly parting your thighs so she could grope at your core.

“Wanda,” you breathed, overwhelmed with the suddenness of her actions. She was usually slow to startle, always taking ample time to wind you up before she ever did something so direct. You started to realize that the pills were working.

“I want your pussy,” she whispered in a half-grunt and half-whimper, licking a hot line up your neck with her tongue as her hand massaged your clit from over your panties. You tried your hardest to just stare at the TV, to deny her the way she denied you, but it was difficult with her hand rubbing you between your legs, with her body pressed flush against yours, with her mouth trying to leave no inch of your neck unstained by her lips.

“Wanda, just wait,” you said as firmly as you could, though you felt yourself throbbing from her touch and growing wetter by the second. You tried to pull her hand out of your pants, but the muscles in her arm felt like iron and wouldn’t budge. She’d never felt that strong and unyielding before. You started to squirm to get away, but realized she’d effectively trapped you with one arm crossing over your body to reach between your legs, and the other arm wrapped under you and holding you by the throat.

“Detka,” she whispered, starting to shamelessly hump your ass that was pressed to her crotch. With the hand on your throat, she jerked your face to turn towards her, diving forwards to catch your lips with hers in a deep, hot kiss. She moaned against your lips as she dove her tongue into your mouth and fiercely explored it, her hand between your legs rubbing your clit harder. It was all too much, the way she was moaning, touching you, and humping you with utter, desperate need that had sprung out of nowhere. Her body felt like it was made of burning coal, making you grow uncomfortably hot trapped against it. You could even feel her nipples bursting through her braless shirt and rubbing against your upper back.

Losing oxygen, you twisted your face away from her kiss and sharply inhaled, but she only kept her lips at the corner of your mouth, kissing sloppily. “Wanda, please, slow down.”

Suddenly, her hand between your legs stilled, her hips stopped gyrating against you, and her mouth froze against your face. She pulled her face away, jerking yours back to face her with her hand on your throat.

You stared up at her; her wide, frenzied pupils; her puffy, reddened lips that were parted from the heavy breaths she breathed through them; her face that was flushed a deep shade of pink. Her darkened eyes started searching all over your face, and you tried to turn your head away from her stare, but her hand kept your jaw locked forward. Nervousness sprung in the pit of your belly, and as hard as you tried, you couldn’t reel in your thoughts.

“What have you done?” Wanda panted in a serious tone, and you noticed a gleam of sweat at the top of her forehead. She looked like she had just got done running a mile. You’d never seen her so worked up before.

“Nothing,” you tried to say as coolly innocent as possible, but your voice came out in a shriveled squeak.

Her eyes squinted a little as they ran all over your face, before finally they focused on your eyes, staring right into yours. Fear filled you as the familiar feeling of your thoughts being read seeped into the confines of your mind, that subtle glow of red that hovered around your vision, evidence of her touch. You watched the number 11 between her eyebrows slowly fade, her face changing in realization—and then it deepened into a darker shade of red.

“Wanda—” you began, wanting to explain yourself and tell her it was just a joke, just the same prank she had done to you. But she wasn’t having it.

She climbed out of the spot where she had nestled between you and the cushions, hauling a leg over you and then the other so she was standing on the floor, leaving you devoid and cold of her touch. When she stepped away, you felt all the heat fade away from your body, and when she reached down to grab you, you felt it again, like it was just radiating off her body. She grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you up to your feet. You stumbled against her and tried to jerk your wrists out of her hands as she started leading you away.

“Hey, hey, Wanda, wait,” you said, digging your heels into the carpet to try and slow her down. With a locked jaw and hard eyes, she let go of your wrists but instead bent over and wrapped her arms around your torso, hoisting you off the floor. Your balance lost you, but then you realized Wanda had thrown you over her shoulder and was now carrying you up the stairs.

“Wanda, calm down,” you pleaded as you stared at the back of her legs, your hair falling down around your face from the upheaval of gravity.

From what you could see of the floor, Wanda was leading you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with her foot before walking to the bed and heaving you down on it. The mattress sprung under your weight and popped you back upwards, but Wanda was already on top of you, forcing you back down onto the mattress.

“Do you think you can just get away with something like that?” she growled, her voice quivering with something that was not fear. She pulled your body up on the bed so your head was on the pillows. “Think you can drug me and manipulate me?”

Your face heated as she finally spoke your trespass out loud. “You did it to me first…” you weakly argued, but she was already pulling your shirt over your head and stripping your pants off your body, along with your undergarments. You tried to ignore the heat that flooded you when you heard the fabric of your panties rip as Wanda pulled them off.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me,” Wanda spat, placing a hand on your bare chest to keep you pressed into the bed as she got up and reached into the nightstand. Your stomach sunk when she took out a pair of velvet handcuffs and roughly cuffed your wrists to the headboard, rendering you trapped on the bed. Next she took a vibrator and a silk rope, moving so fast you couldn’t prepare yourself enough for when she clicked the vibe on and placed it right onto your clit, tying the rope around your thighs until they were tied shut, trapping the vibe that was already making your insides tingle.

“Wanda,” you groaned, trying to break your thighs loose, but the rope kept them tied completely shut. You even tried to yank your wrists out of the cuffs, but it was no use. Even in her haze of desire, Wanda had trapped you efficiently.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” Wanda asked as she started quickly undressing herself, her pants falling from her ankles as she climbed back onto the bed. She hoisted herself over your face, and you saw her bare pussy, the way it was already glistening with wetness and puffy from lust. “When you put the pills in my wine, did you expect to get face-fucked, slut?” Her voice was edged and sharp as she grabbed a fistful of your hair and hovered over your mouth. “Open,” she snapped.

Trembling, you slowly opened your mouth and she lowered herself onto it, the taste and smell of her arousal filling your tongue and nostrils as she started grinding on your tongue. Eyes staring up at her, you watched her instantly moan from an open mouth, throwing her head back as her hardened nipples perked from her breasts.

The vibrator between your legs was driving you crazy, the constant friction on your clit to which you couldn’t relieve because your thighs were tied shut. You could already feel wetness pooling there, dripping down your skin and onto the bed.

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned, holding tighter onto your hair as she gyrated her hips over your open mouth, her liquids smearing over your chin and dripping to the back of your throat. You could even feel her clit throbbing on your tongue, hot and swollen.

You started to feel almost bad, seeing how worked up and needy she was, but she was rectifying you with how harshly she began to ride your face, jerking herself against your tongue and placing a hand on the wall to steady herself. The handcuffs on your wrists jingled with the force that she fucked your face, her red hair growing wily and wavy from the humidity incited by her ravenous desire.

Wanda’s teeth showed as she squeezed her eyes shut, her breasts bouncing as she moaned loudly. You echoed her moan against her pussy, your hips involuntarily bucking against the vibrator. Pressure was coiling in your stomach, from the way you were trapped under her, from the taste of her, from the merciless pleasure being forced on your clit. Before you could stop it, an orgasm washed over you, and the moans and whimpers that escaped your throat and landed on Wanda’s core pushed her to an orgasm directly after you, fucking herself on your mouth so hard that you could feel your lower lip smash against your teeth and start to sting.

You were losing breath, heart racing, the vibrator still trapped to you even after you had cum, the sensitive feeling driving you mad as you violently bucked your legs to try and free yourself. Wanda took her time in riding her climax out before she finally moved off you, looking down at you and grinning at the sight. “Mommy made a mess of you,” she whispered, her eyes, still crazed, looking at the shimmer of her cum all over the lower portion of your face, your lip which had burst and now drew bubbles of blood from under the surface, your face contorted in both pleasure and pain, legs kicking desperately to get the vibrator off you.

“Mommy, t-take it off, please,” you begged, feeling more pressure quickly chase you.

Wanda only sneered and lowered, taking you by the face and pressing her mouth to yours, tasting her own cum and the blood of your lip as she kissed you deeply and hungrily. The cruel sensations coupled with Wanda’s eager kiss pushed you over the edge again, your back arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed upon you. Wanda suffocated you with her kiss, and she smiled when you moaned open-mouthed against her lips.

Tears were pooling in your eyes when the vibrations did not stop, already starting to reel you back up when your second orgasm faded halfway away. “Mommy!” you shrieked, jerking your head away from her.

Finally, Wanda reached down and untied the ropes, taking the vibrator away from you and turning it off. A groan of relief passed through you, your legs instantly parting wide to keep away any sort of friction possible.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Wanda said, and you noticed that she had reached into the nightstand again and was pulling something up her hips. “Already opening your legs for me. Such a good whore.”

Turning your head, you saw that she’d pulled a strap-on to her hips, a large red dildo staring right at you from between her fist that clutched its length. You looked up at her pleadingly. “No, Mommy, that’s enough.”

Wanda stroked her cock as she neared you, and you could tell by the look in her eyes, which somehow was made even more feral after cumming, that she was not anywhere near done with you.

“This isn’t what you wanted, mutt? To be fucked mindless and dwindled down into my pathetic personal sex doll?” Her words were so dirty that you couldn’t even look at her. “Stop talking dumb like that and get my cock ready for you.”

Grabbing you by the hair, she turned your face towards her and teased the tip of her strap against your closed lips. “Open,” she warned, her voice swinging deep and low as she pushed the tip against your lips. You parted them, allowing her to slide herself inside. You weren’t sure if your vision was just hazy or if you were already dumbed down, but you hadn’t noticed how large the strap was until it was nestled down your throat, urging you to quietly gag. You could barely fit your mouth around it, struggling to swirl your tongue all the way around its girth. Wanda, standing by the bed and holding your hair, took liberty in thrusting her hips a little bit to lodge it further down your throat, grinning when you gagged audibly.

“Good girl,” Wanda cooed once she was satisfied with how wet you’d made her strap, pulling it out and climbing over you on the bed, settling herself between your open legs. You didn’t even make an effort to close them, knowing that you were far past denying her now.

Curling her arms under your knees, she bent them and pushed your thighs to your stomach. You started to whine when she teased her strap against your entrance, and she shot a dark glare your way.

“What are you whining about, slut? All you have to do is lie there and take my cock like a good girl. Is that so fucking hard?” Her hunger was turning into anger, and that turned into her forcing herself into you all at once, squeezing her way through your walls that were far too tight for her cock. Crying out in pain, you threw your head back and tried to kick at her, but she held your thighs still and bottomed out inside you, the tip of her cock pressing deep in your lower tummy.

“M-Mommy,” you cried, tears flooding down your cheeks. There was pain from her size and pain from the overstimulation of having already orgasmed twice, but there was also the sickly pleasure you took in seeing her so needy and crazed, so forceful and demanding with you.

“Don’t cry. It will just make me fuck you harder.” She pulled nearly all the way out of you before snapping her hips again, and she fucked you with a harsh pace, the headboard slamming against the wall each time she slammed into you. She pulled your legs up over her shoulders, placing her hands on your tits for leverage as she stuffed herself inside of you over and over again, the friction it stirred against her own clit driving her to grunt and screw her eyes shut.

“Mommy, slower,” you begged, trying to reach out and touch her, but you were reminded that your hands were cuffed.

“Shut up,” Wanda snapped, slapping a hand over your mouth to silence you. “If you’d stop fucking talking, I’d tell you you’re doing so good for Mommy.” She looked down between your legs, her mouth falling open at the sight of your hole stretched tight around her strap that repeatedly disappeared inside you. The sound of skin slapping and wet squelching filled the air, and you grew dizzy as pressure soared inside you again. “Taking all of me like…” Wanda trailed, her eyes closing again as she grabbed your breast forcefully with one hand, her other bruising your punctured lip as it silenced you. “Fuck… Oh, fuck…”

You realized Wanda was just as wound up as you were when her thrusts grew sloppy from her impending orgasm, and the sight of her cumming as she was eight inches deep inside you propelled you into another climax that left you screaming under her hand and arching high off the bed. Wanda leaned down and buried her face into your neck, biting at your skin and grunting loudly into your ear as she trembled with her orgasm.

Your senses left you a little. You could feel her weight crushing you, hoping she was satiated. Through swirling vision and echoed hearing, you sensed her pull out of you and uncuff the handcuffs on your wrists. When her hands came to you again and started moving you onto your stomach, you were too blinded and dazed to understand what was happening until Wanda’s body weight pressed against your back, and you felt the sobering pain of her entering your stretched pussy again, starting to fuck you from behind.

Shrieking, you buried your face into the mattress and clawed at the sheets. You were so sensitive that every thrust and movement made you want to crawl out of your skin, but Wanda was grunting and moaning behind you as if she hadn’t already cum twice.

“Fuck, I love being this deep inside you,” Wanda said against the back of your neck as she grazed her nose across your skin, coming to bite into the back of your shoulder as she sloppily thrusted into you. Both of your juices had combined into a sticky puddle on the sheets below, dripping onto each other’s skin and mixing into a mess of wet at the point where you were connected.

When you’d put the pill in Wanda’s drink, you’d expected her to be needy, of course. You did not expect for it to all come back on you, for her to both punish you for your actions and also quell the desire you’d forced into her in the same swift blow.

When you’d both cum again, your legs were shaking beyond control, and Wanda finally fell limp against your back, crushing you into the mattress. She panted heavily, still lodged inside you, running her hands up the smooth skin of your waist as she gently kissed the deep red bite mark she’d left on your shoulder.

Her breathing started to slow, her hands comforting you with their gentle touch, her lips kissing your skin so soft it felt like feathers.

“Has your pussy had enough, detka?” Wanda whispered, reaching down to the kiss the side of your face that wasn’t pressed against the sheets, wiping away some of the still fresh tears from your cheek.

You nodded desperately, wincing when you wiggled too hard and felt her still inside you. Hissing, you felt her slowly pull out of you, sighing in relief.

“Well, then,” she whispered, right when you thought that the punishments were over and the lust had been fucked out of her system. “I’ll just have to take your ass.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff smut

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Two

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,7k

Warnings | +18, explicit language, kidnapping, yandere, mentions of prostitution, Jimin is really a bastard, harassments, threats with a gun, forced vaginal inspection, humiliation and teasing, light blood consumption, virgin girls are sold, forced separation

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! The second chapter of Dark Moon has arrived, thank you for all the compliments and support ❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

When Y/N regained consciousness she felt her head spin and something go up her stomach, she was nauseous as well as very cold, even her leg did not seem to be in optimal condition. A white light filtered past her eyelashes, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut before groaning, trying, in vain, to move. She turned wearily on her side, realizing only then that she was lying on an icy floor. "The mare has awakened," said a voice with a deep cadence. The girl tried wearily to at least get on her knees, but failed to do so; her head was assailed by memories of a few hours ago, they were confused, but one thing she distinctly remembered. A face. A male face full of piercings, of cruel extraordinary beauty. "You better not move a step, you have a gun pointed at your head, baby doll," said another voice, higher and smoother. As her eyes adjusted to the light she focused on the gun in question, clutched in the gloved hand of the same man she remembered. His face was as beautiful as a god's, he had piercings on his lower lip, as well as on his eyebrow and all along the side line of his neck, stretching all the way under his leather coat. His dark hair, on the other hand, was combed so that his forehead was left uncovered, his amphibians also stood tall and menacing, just like the rest of him.

He held that gun with monstrous ease, his stoic expression telling her that he would not think twice about shooting her if he had to. She licked her lips, finding them dry and cracked, before she began to speak. "What do you want from me? I have nothing to interest you," she said in a scratchy voice, hugging her legs in a vain attempt to shield herself from his eyes. "You are quite wrong, dear," the other stepped forward, he was taller than the man with the piercings and his hair was silver, yet the hardness of his eyes was the same, "You have made a request and we are here to fulfill it." The young woman frowned, before the realization finally came. "Now you remember, right? You asked to work for us, in fact ... you both asked." The young woman widened her eyes and immediately remembered her younger sister, looked around in panic noticing the smaller body far away from her. She tried to get up to reach her, but the sound of a trigger froze her. "I told you not to take a step, I might blow your leg off, but that would not please my boss, so let's avoid giving each other trouble," huffed the dark-haired man, he was ruthless. She began to tremble, realizing the trouble she and her sister had gotten themselves into.

They had applied to work everywhere from small bars to supermarkets, not leaving out discos and more domestic jobs. But there was no work, or the pay was starvation. Finally she had made the leap, finding herself applying for jobs in a variety of red-light clubs, and before she could say or do anything, her sister had also followed suit, but she didn't think it would end like that for them. "We never received any recruitment letters or emails, so what are you talking about?" she hissed through clenched teeth. The taller one looked at her sideways, "The Dark Moon is not used to hiring the way you imagine, sweetheart...to fit into its standards you have to possess certain qualities and you two have all of them." If possible that answer left her even more confused, the dark-haired man with the piercings huffed, "Boobs and three holes to fill are not enough, once you enter the Dark Moon you never leave, those who "win" our attention do so because they live far away from their family and with a low lifestyle," he explained vulgarly, heedless of the increasingly evident pallor on the young woman's face. Everything was clear now, one of the brothels to which she had sent her application was much more than that, there was a highly illegal prostitution ring behind it, involving the total disappearance of girls from the rest of the world. The menacing appearance of the two men spoke volumes.

What had they gotten themselves into? "Wait a minute, ours was a request made without thinking" she tried to negotiate, but the grin on the pierced boy's face grew. Jimin was amused, did the poor deluded woman really believe that there was any way back? He shook his head, "Without thinking? You ran away from home because of an abusive family, dropping out of school and cleaning here and there to earn enough to afford a low Motel in the lowest neighborhood in town...it doesn't seem to me that you applied without thinking, in fact, it was desperation that convinced you and you even got bingo," he chuckled nastily. The girl cashed the blow, bending over herself; there was no remedy. She had been kidnapped and a madman was pointing a gun at her with impressive ease, the other man would probably hurt her sister if she decided to challenge them. She felt like crying, but she pushed back her tears; she would not let them see her whimpering like a child. After a few seconds a choked sigh was heard, Y/N opened her eyes again with fear. She turned toward her sister, who terrified looked at her with a lost and confused look. "What...? Y/N, what's going on?" she asked with some difficulty due to the drug used on her.

"Blair, stay there!" she exclaimed, but her sister tried to get up anyway, and the taller guy had to intervene, pushing the younger one against the concrete wall without any kindness, pulled the gun out of his jacket, and Y/N felt herself dying, yelled at him to leave her alone, pushing herself toward them, but a heavy kick to the leg stopped her actions. She groaned in pain, staring at the piercing guy's boot pressing right against her thigh, there where a purplish bruise had already taken shape from the violent sting. "Ha-ha! You're such a naughty little girl, you know? Lucky for you that wasn't a step, because otherwise I would have had to use this," he said in a childish tone, teasing her by moving the barrel of his gun left and right. Y/N swallowed hard, chewing between her teeth the pain she so badly wanted to vent, that boy was scary to her, there was a veil of madness behind his dark eyes. She did not want to find out how far she could push him, that madness. Namjoon, on the other hand, went no further with her sister, just put her back in her place. She resumed breathing as the man moved away from her, but a knock on the door made her stomach flip over. The two men exchanged a brief glance; it was Jimin who opened it without lowering his gun.

Y/N saw three other men enter the building, one of whom towered prominently over the others. He wore a gorgeous fur coat over his smoking, and his incredibly handsome face was obscured by an apathetic expression. The other two, on the other hand, were dressed quite similarly to those who had taken her hostage; they, too, were beautiful and surreally dangerous. "Are there only two of them?" the man in the fur coat asked, pointing at her and her sister. "They are the only ones who passed all the requirements, they are also quite pretty, Jin," shrugged the man the girl had labeled "The Tall One." The Jin in question squared them carefully, Y/N felt naked under his gaze and wished she could hug her sister to protect her from them, but she could not. She would be of no use to her dead. "What are their names?" "Byeon Y/N and Byeon Blair, they are sisters, they used this surname in the application, definitely not the right one...as you can see, they are not Korean." "Good job, Namjoon... As for their status?"

The girl didn't know how they could know all that, because it was true, they had changed their last name so that they didn't have to be related to their father and his family, but what made her cringe was the word "status," underlined in a strange way. The one she seemed to understand was called Namjoon remained silent a few seconds, then shook his head, "We haven't checked." "No problem, we'll do it now," he moved a finger toward the other two, "Taehyung, Hoseok," he said, but the pierced boy got in the way. "Leave this one to me," he said, intriguing Seokjin. "Why, Jimin? You usually avoid by saying it's too hard to handle them." Now she knew the name of that devil, but still not understanding what they intended to check, something told her she would not like to find out, she exchanged a glance with her sister. She saw her as frightened as she had ever been in her life, and it certainly should not have helped to see her, her older sister, in the same condition, so she tried to calm her expression, though with little result. "I have a score to settle with her," she said earnestly, it was then that Y/N remembered the kick thrown at the man's face in her fury to escape him, but she couldn't see any bruises so it must not have hurt him that much, right? The other nodded, "All right."

Next she saw the man named Hoseok heading toward her sister, who pushed herself against the wall trying to escape, but she was surrounded by men with guns and could do nothing. Y/N sprinted toward her, but Jimin was quick to grab her by the collar of her shirt. "Be still and quiet, behave yourself and it will only last a few seconds." But she did not understand, what would last only a few seconds? She blanched at the younger one's shocked screams, turned quickly toward her, and what she saw left her bewildered. The red-haired man, Hoseok, was holding Blair's body crushed to the ground while he did something with his hand under the fabric of her shorts, the insight made her shudder and she threw herself at her once more, heedless of Jimin's firm grip, who gritted his teeth at such stupidity. "What the fuck are you doing to her, you bastard! Let her go immediately, before I kill you!" she snarled bright-eyed, aware that as her sister kicked trying to get the man off her, she could only watch with no chance to react. A laugh behind her back made her skin crawl. "He's doing just that to her," she heard him say, before she was pinned to the wall hard, missing her breath for a few moments, time for Jimin to imprison her wrists in one of his hands, reaching with the other to the fabric of her underpants, which he went over, ending right under her panties.

In horror the girl felt the fingers still wrapped in the leather glove tracing her folds and without any care penetrating her tight slit, she cried out in pain and shock, the fingers went all the way, finding nothing to stop them, but Jimin wanted to provoke her a little. "You're so dry that if I continued you would bleed, wouldn't you? Like a virgin, too bad you're not," he whispered in her ear. The young woman, red with shame, overcame her shock and tried to kick him in the groin where an obvious bulge was taking shape, but Jimin ducked in time, stared at her with icy eyes before stepping firmly out of her intimacy, causing her another painful twinge. He let her fall back to the ground observing his fingers, only a few drops glistened on their surface, nothing striking. "She's tight as hell, but she's not a virgin," he communicated to the others in an impassive voice. Hoseok turned away from the youngest, who cowered in shock. "With this one I stopped pretty much right away, she's a virgin," he showed everyone a few drops of blood present on his fingers before licking them.

No one commented on that gesture, as if it was normal for them, Y/N just felt like throwing up, she clenched her legs trying to calm the burning that the bastard had intentionally caused her, god... if they were on equal terms she would have destroyed him. Seokjin nodded, "We'll make a lot of money with that one, I already have an interested customer." Y/N widened her eyes, rising up sharply. "At least let my sister go! She is young and unfit for such a life!" she exclaimed, staring into the eyes of what appeared to be the boss. Taehyung laughed, "Then why did she apply for such a job? Besides, what would she be different from you, is she a princess or something? Come on, we are fair and consistent people we, it wouldn't be fair to you," he teased her, ignoring Blair's sobs, still hunched over herself because of the pain she was feeling. Hoseok did not seem to have gone easy on her, as he had said. "Miss Byeon, the Dark Moon is a place that lives in anonymity, our clients are important people who want to spend moments of pleasure in complete relaxation, I can't afford outside witnesses other than my men, that's exactly why we only pick up girls like you," he began to explain calmly, "Beautiful, but desperate, I offer them protection and comfort, as long as they abide by my rules." Simply put, 'You know too much, and since you've been brought in, you will do as I say'.

Y/N felt lost, there was no turning back, she would be a whore without freedom until the end of her days, and her sister would follow her freewheeling. At that point, with another needle stuck in her flesh, tears flowed copiously without her being able to do anything to stop them.

Y/N regained consciousness in what was no longer a dingy warehouse, but lying on a soft bed with silk and velvet blankets. Smelling of essential oils and wearing a satin blouse, she widened her eyes, turning around. Next to her a girl was arranging some things in the sliding door closet. She was not paying attention to her. "I-where am I?" she asked in a low voice, the girl blocked her actions, then turned to her, glowering at her. "You should know, shouldn't you? You asked to work here yourself," she arrowed, Y/N looked at her shocked. Why had the woman answered her in that rude way? "I don't think I did anything to you to deserve such an attitude," she said in fact, the other rolled her eyes. "You newcomers are all like that, all naive holier-than-thou. You're at the Dark Moon, girl! Place of pleasure and sin, where you will open your legs without a single complaint and I recommend it for your own good," she blurted out, made to leave without adding more, but Y/N stopped her. "My sister! Have you seen my sister?" she ignored the scurvy attitude of that girl as beautiful as she was rude to ask about the younger one, the other looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, yes...when you arrived they just asked me to get you ready for the room, but I heard about the other one.... She was a virgin, virgins are always sold and never stay at the Dark Moon.... so it was your sister, huh? I'm sorry," she sneered, before leaving the room. The world came crashing down on her, her sister was not there with her, she had been sold without ifs and buts, they had not even given her a chance to see her one last time. She clutched her chest, trapped in a painful grip, and let herself fall on the bed without energy, she merely sobbed for what seemed like hours. She had definitely lost her entire family and there was absolutely nothing she could do to change that. She was gone, Blair was no longer with her, and she would spend the rest of her life spreading her legs for any man with a sizeable bank account. With tears still clinging between her eyelashes she saw the door open once more, revealing the slender figure of another girl, wrapped in a pattern similar to her blouse, but much darker. "Hey. You're the newcomer, aren't you? Nice to meet you, my name is Hanon," she said jovially, waving her hand, Y/N remained impassive, too exhausted and bitter to be in the same mood as her.

"Y/N..." she mumbled back, shutting herself up. The woman was not impressed by that closed attitude; on the contrary, she found herself smiling more. That girl reminded her of herself at first. Almost no one wanted to end up trapped at the Dark Moon, but getting used to it wasn't so bad. They had food and beautiful clothes, as well as a roof over their heads. "Well, hello Y/N! Welcome to the Dark Moon, I was asked to show you around a bit," Hanon said cheerfully, Y/N instantly glowered at her. She didn't want to take the prostitute prison tour, she wanted to go back to the horrid old Motel with her sister, better poor than divided and slutty. "I don't care for that, thank you," she replied through gritted teeth. If possible Hanon's smile grew bigger, a strange light shone in her eyes. "Oh, believe me ... it's in your best interests to listen to me, Seokjin here is the boss and his word is law, if you don't do as he says you'll end up bathing in the icy waters of the Han River, with no chance of rising" from the satisfied voice Y/N guessed that it had already happened and that Hanon was probably someone quite important among the girls, he believed she had power over all of them, that's why she smiled like that. Without uttering another word, Y/N got out of bed, found some bedroom shoes placed neatly on the polished wooden floor, and putting them on followed the other woman.

Hanon showed her several rooms, numbered and with a key inside each shiny, well-oiled lock; almost all the rooms were the same, except for a few cases of far more luxurious suites suitable for clients quite important to the boss of the "shack." Hanon explained to her that the one where she was a few moments earlier was her personal room, no one had the right to enter there, and that every client had one of those other rooms rented for a set amount of time that varied from the fee paid for each type of service requested. Y/N felt disgust and nausea with each piece of information she learned, the customer paid and they automatically had to obey him. Hanon finally showed her their relaxation room; it was a large greenhouse where one could play freely and grow flowers and plants of all kinds. That was perhaps the only area Y/N would appreciate, she told herself. "From this corridor instead you get to the kitchens and the dining room, instead to ask for any kind of information you can ask me, if I will not be available go ahead to Namjoon's office, I will show you where it is" at that name the young woman felt sick. She remembered the silver-haired man, she had no idea he personally worked at the Dark Moon. "Namjoon?" she swallowed, Hanon stared at her for a moment confused by her sudden pallor, then understood. "So this time it was his turn, I guess it went well for you then, he is very kind to girls and-"

"Namjoon kidnapped my sister," she said harshly, "He was not kind to do such a thing, much less his friend with piercings all over his face, who was simply an animal with me," she growled. Hanon winced, he could tell she was talking about Jimin from the description-he was the only one of the men in Seokjin who had piercings all over his face, not to mention his neck. Those seven were divided into distinct and separate personalities, and Hanon knew for sure that the worst were Jimin and Hoseok themselves. "All right, for any doubts ask me, then," then she remembered something important, "Oh, I almost forgot the most essential thing! In case you need help during a session with your client, on the bedside table next to the bed there is a white phone, it has a unique number and communicates with the bodyguards, if you will be in trouble don't hesitate for a moment to call" she explained seriously. A shiver ran down the young woman's spine, she had not yet thought of such a possibility, she believed that with clients of a certain caliber something dangerous could not happen, evidently she was mistaken. When she was escorted back to her room, Y/N stopped Hanon. "Um... Hanon?" "Yes?"

"Before you came, there was a girl in the room with me, she was very rude and I would like to know why, I'm new and didn't give any trouble...I wish I could at least live peacefully here, though I doubt it." Hanon weighed the words well, but decided to be honest. "I told you we have personal rooms, but not as much as they are..." Y/N widened her eyes, "Your room belonged to Ester, the girl you met." "What... Why did you give me her room?" she asked wordlessly, Hanon shrugged her shoulders. "Well, only five other girls have the room like yours, these girls are selected by Seokjin's most trusted men because they are their favorites, and you are now one of them, indeed, of us." If possible, Y/N found herself more confused than before-what was Hanon getting at? The latter sighed, "Ester was Jimin's favorite, but I don't know how...now you're the one who will share a bed with him if he decides to stay here from time to time, when he arrived he didn't think twice about sending her away to give way to you, I think you intrigued him and quite a bit too." Y/N found herself staggering back, everything simply had to be an absurd and horrible joke, should she have shared a bed with such a beast? The disgust did not leave her for a moment longer.

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nexility-sims · 3 months

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟐 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | NAKAWE, EARLY MARCH 1991

❧ 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ News about the royal family filled broadcasts throughout the day as cheerful early birds, irreverent talk show hosts, and straight journalists alike seized on recent developments. Nothing was too trivial or unremarkable. With the quiet of death and mourning over, the messy aftermath presented opportunity—for ratings, among other things.

❧ ahhh !!! ngl, i'm very proud of this, and i think that it's an improvement on the last television montage. happy to report that there will be more :^) big grateful shoutout to @madebysimblr for the two hosts i lightly edited and renamed ! also shoutout to tom noguchi’s book for the direct inspiration djdhjf

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

morning news

[J] That bird risked everything to put out the fire! Inspiring.

[E] It’s the Morning in Nakawe promise—wholesome coverage to start your day, every day.

[E] Now, as you know, it’s been several weeks since Princess Safya’s tragic death. It looks like her family is finally getting back to normal. We got a glimpse of some beach outings this week.

[E] Safe to say Abelina has quickly stolen hearts nationwide.

[J] Everything we’ve seen suggests she’s a sweetheart.

[E] And there she is enjoying some fun in the sun with her father. I think we’re all excited to see more of this little family—especially with two new members on the way.

[J] First Reyes twins in recent memory!

[J] Princess Leonor also took to the beach in Nakawe, although she spent her time reading instead of swimming. I bet booksellers are going to see that one flying off the shelves this week.

[E] I’ll admit that I already bought my copy! That’s Ogechi Suzu’s 1987 magical realism bestseller Learning to Fly. No spoilers, but it’s about a woman who can suddenly transform into a parrot.

[J] That’s a classic story, isn’t it? What’s Suzu’s take?

[E] A Nakawe city girl has to crisscross all of Uspana to find herself. There’s love and computers. It’s a modern update.

daytime talk

[F] Okay, we’re back! We couldn’t get a Reyes on our little broadcast, so Mencia Cipac’s here to discuss where we are post-Princess Safya. Mencia was a palace correspondent for years, and she published a fabulous book on royal childhood last fall. Today’s person of interest is a big girl now, but—well, is she really?

[F] Safya’s baby. That’s how we know her. Who is she now?

[M] That’s the question. In my book, I thought I had an answer. We’re going to watch a young person invent herself in real time—all while dealing with such extraordinary events. The premature death of a parent. Losing a role that was, by all accounts, her nascent identity.

[F] In public! Publicly.

[M] That’s right. The scrutiny and attention ... We know how hard it is. Going from a little girl to a young woman is always hard. In the public eye, even under normal circumstances, it’s absurd. In our modern history, this turn of events is unprecedented.

[F] To think, we really haven’t even known who she is.

[M] We never really know, but we make great educated guesses. We’ve see her through the prism of her role, particularly this past year. That isn’t unusual for royalty, here or elsewhere. A hard worker. Our queen’s “little shadow.” That just won’t be true anymore. I mean, we know—we’ve guessed—how Queen Beatriz is.

{Audience murmurs}

[M] So, where does that leave her? It is hard to predict. I wonder if she’ll continue to work in a similar fashion—become a loyal worker for the institution like Martin, perhaps.

[F] Oh, I hope not! Can you imagine? How dull! A beautiful girl. She’s so young. She should do something interesting—for me, because I want to see it. Someone get her on the line!

{Audience laughs}

[M] The recent surveys suggest that’s how many Uspanians feel. They sympathize, but they crave newness and excitement. Our public figures let us live vicariously, don’t they? Leonor’s generation is lagging—all children, of course, all off-limits. That means she’s the lighting rod for that collective anticipation.

[F] She was at the beach here in Nakawe the other day. The gossip is some surfers out there were chatting her up. You’ve seen those boys! She deserves the attention but, oh, so do I—!

{Crowd cheers}

[M] The talk has shifted immensely, hasn’t it? We thought there would be a wedding in a year or two, and now it’s all up in the air.

[F] Who cares about that nobody, really? The whole thing was so sweet it made my teeth hurt. Give us someone new. Someones, even.

[M] To people in my profession, the coming weeks are going to be significant. Whether she’s working as we expect or occupied some other way, her public life will be different. Romance is part of that, sure.

[F] A young girl needs it. Us old ones, too. Maybe a self esteem boost will help her out of this funk. It’s depressing, frankly, how bad she looks in those photos we’ve seen lately.

{Audience murmurs}

[F] Hey! She looks great, though! The baby fat is melting away. That mourning diet did wonders, wow. She always looked like her mother—the body, too, you know. Blessing and a curse.

[M] There’s some resemblance to her father, too.

{Audience grumbles}

[F] Jail! Legal won’t let me talk, but: right, ladies?

{Audience murmuring, interspersed clapping}

[F] Anyway, she has his coloring, yes. The darker skin—which, you know, is a shame since her mother had a very pretty complexion. Brighteners? Sunscreen? Maybe we could have a segment on good products. Bring in a dermatologist or two?

{Audience applauds}

evening news

[B] Alright, last update before the hour ends.

[R] That’s right. The Office of the Crown has given a timeline and some details on the transition. First, Princess Safya’s three children will be retaining their titles—that’s “princes” and “princess.”

[B] Courtesy, most likely.

[R] There was no explanation, but our colleagues over at Palace Affairs seem to believe so. Arnaut, meanwhile, is officially the Crown Prince of Uspana, per the same memorandum released today.

[B] That’s a big deal. I mean, we are looking at the future head of state. People my age associate him with, well, velvet and gambling. He’ll lead the nation in time. In your lifetime, if not mine.

[R] Well, Bernardo, the reality is that does concern some.

[B] It remains to be seen whether that’s fair. The coming months are going to be quite the test for him.

[R] You’ll recall better than me that he was tested in the 1970s and still hasn’t recovered—according to this month’s polls, anyway.

[B] Uspanians may not want to give him a chance, but he’ll be addressing the Assembly to formally accept the role all the same.

[R] And we’ll be reporting as it happens later this week. For now, that’s it for us. UBC Nightly News with Inti Rivera starts now.

nightly news

[R] Yesterday afternoon, Crown aides joined the chief medical examiner involved in the investigation of Princess Safya’s death for a press conference. Some reporters’ questions revealed the influence of rumor on what Uspana’s public now wants to know.

[R1] My understanding is that the Crown has not accepted the investigation’s conclusions. Can you confirm?

[A1] Incorrect. The Crown is uninvolved. Dr. Siodina issued a ruling, and the family asked questions strictly as surviving loved ones.

[R2] Did intoxication play a role in what happened?

[S] It isn’t my opinion that it led to her being in the water. It did contribute to the drowning itself.

[R3] Why did she leave the yacht?

[S] That’s a question with a psychological answer rather than a forensic one, I think.

{Reporters murmur}

[R4] Did an altercation with her husband, Lord Rodrigo, occur that night that would have caused her to leave?

[S] Um .... A moment, please.

{Reporters resume murmuring}

[A2] {whispering} Officially, yes, they argued.

[S] There was a disagreement, yes.

[A2] {whispering} No violence.

[S] It was, however, entirely civil.

{Reporters, clamoring}

[R] Following what some are now calling a, quote, “unmitigated disaster,” the Crown announced that it plans to conduct its own formal but unofficial inquiry into the accident as well as the investigation itself. In a twist, sources suggest this plan could have been in the works prior to the conference. This is a developing story.

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e03

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pazzesco · 7 months

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~ Helen Keller ~

Helen Keller (colorized)

Miss Helen Keller - Portrait US Library of Congress

Helen Keller was an author, lecturer, suffragists and crusader for the handicapped. Born in Tuscumbia, Alabama, She lost her sight and hearing at the age of nineteen months to an illness now believed to have been scarlet fever. Five years later, on the advice of Alexander Graham Bell, her parents applied to the Perkins Institute for the Blind in Boston for a teacher, and from that school hired Anne Mansfield Sullivan.

Keller (left) with Anne Sullivan vacationing on Cape Cod in July 1888

Through Sullivan’s extraordinary instruction, the little girl learned to understand and communicate with the world around her. She went on to acquire an excellent education and to become an important influence on the treatment of the blind and deaf.

Helen Keller in 1899 with lifelong companion and teacher Anne Sullivan. Photo taken by Alexander Graham Bell at his School of Vocal Physiology and Mechanics of Speech.

Her unprecedented accomplishments in overcoming her disabilities made her a celebrity at an early age; at twelve she published an autobiographical sketch in the Youth’s Companion, and during her junior year at Radcliffe, she produced her first book, The Story of My Life, still in print in over fifty languages.

Helen Keller — Groundbreaking Girls

Painting of Keller's colorized portrait by Wayne Pascall

Her friendship with Mark Twain

"Helen Keller, Miss Sullivan, Mark Twain and Laurence Hutton."

“From that day until his death we were friends,” Keller recalled later. She was already a fan of his work and thrilled to his deep voice and his many hand gestures, which she followed with her own fingertips. She wrote of him:

"He entered into my limited world with enthusiasm just as he might have explored Mars. Blindness was an adventure that kindled his curiosity. He treated me not as a freak, but as a handicapped woman seeking a way to circumvent extraordinary difficulties. There was something of divine apprehension in this rare naturalness towards those who differ from others in external circumstances."

Helen Keller with Mark Twain - Twain came to Keller’s defense, after reading in her book about a plagiarism scandal that occurred in 1892 when, at only twelve years old, she was accused of lifting her short story “The Frost King” from Margaret Canby’s “Frost Fairies.” Though a tribunal acquitted Keller of the charges, the incident still pissed off Twain. The letter is attached to the photo above

Letters between Mark Twain and Helen Keller.

Though Helen hailed from a respectable Southern family, 19th-century America was flummoxed by the prospect of teaching a deaf-blind girl to talk, read, and learn. Helen’s tutor and governess, Annie Sullivan, fought for her admission to various schools that offered special education. But the cost of educating someone like Helen was high. Clemens wrote to a rich friend on her behalf:

"It won’t do for America to allow this marvelous child to retire from her studies because of poverty. If she can go on with them she will make a fame that will endure in history for centuries. Along her special illness she is the most extraordinary product of all the ages…lay siege to your husband & get him to interest himself and Messrs. John D. & William Rockefeller & the other Standard Oil chiefs in Helen’s case; get them to subscribe an annual aggregate of six or seven hundred or a thousand dollars- & agree to continue this for three or four years, until she has completed her college course…."

Thanks to his intervention, the support of his friend Henry Rogers and Standard Oil, Helen was able to complete her education and graduate cum laude from Harvard’s Radcliffe College. Clemens and Keller remained friends for the rest of his life. They shared an interest in radical politics and a love for life despite their different temperaments. Helen, an avowed optimist, often made fun of Clemens for his avowed pessimism, telling him she didn’t believe a word of his sardonic jokes. As for Clemens, Chambliss writes that he felt she was one of the most important historical figures of all time, “the most wondrous person of her sex that has existed on this earth since Joan of Arc.”

Keller, Sullivan, Twain, & Sullivan’s husband John Macy above at Twain’s home

We also have Twain—not playwright William Gibson—to thank for the “miracle worker” title given to Keller’s teacher, Anne Sullivan. As a tribute to Sullivan for her tireless work with Keller, he presented her with a postcard that read, “To Mrs. John Sullivan Macy with warm regard & with limitless admiration of the wonders she has performed as a ‘miracle-worker.’” In his 1903 letter to Keller, he called Sullivan “your other half… for it took the pair of you to make complete and perfect whole.”

Twain was especially impressed by Keller’s autobiography, writing to her, “I am charmed with your book—enchanted.” (See his endorsement in a 1903 advertisement, above.)

Keller & Clemens also shared a love of dogs

Helen Keller with her dog Sir Thomas.

Helen Keller seated on a window bench with an arm around her dog Sieglinde.

Helen Keller seated on a bench indoors, possibly in the photographer's studio wth a dog seated on the ground beside her.

Helen Keller seated on a slatted bench in front of a Farm House in 1935 with her dogs Dileas, on her lap, Maida beside her & Golden.

Helen Keller teaching a girl sign language.

Widely honored throughout the world and invited to the White House by every U.S. president from Grover Cleveland to Lyndon B. Johnson, Keller altered the world’s perception of the capacities of the handicapped. More than any act in her long life, her courage, intelligence, and dedication combined to make her a symbol of the triumph of the human spirit over adversity.

Helen Keller - 1880-1968

Helen Keller Archive

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gellavonhamster · 1 month

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assigning each straw hat pirate a knight of the round table

because I am currently obsessed both with One Piece and Arthuriana; not any kind of serious AU material, just silliness; I Wrote This for Me but You Can Read If You Like

Luffy: Arthur, not due to any similarities in characterization but purely on the functional level - the boy king, the inspirational leader and, as Sun God Nika, a mythical figure believed to return when people need him the most

Zoro: Lancelot, the perfect warrior who embodies that post that's like "it's not my fault that my love language is acts of service and all I know how to do is kill". There is no Queen Guinevere here, so all the undying devotion is aimed at the king instead. Canonically has massive tits. Mihawk is thus implied to be the Lady of the Lake, and I think that's hilarious

Nami: hear me out: Kay. Sharp-tongued, rather cynical, but loyal to a fault to his king/adopted little brother. Nami as part of the Coward Trio vs. Kay being unlucky on quests and generally the butt of the joke. Isn't known to be a great warrior but occupies an important position (navigator vs. seneschal) that keeps the ship/court going. Besides, looking from the opposite direction, I just think Kay deserves to be the hot girl

Usopp: Usopp, sweetie, I'm so sorry, but I gotta say Tristan. Because Tristan is constantly lying about his identity in the most ridiculous manner possible and it somehow works. That part in Le Morte d'Arthur when he's asked what his name is and goes "Tramtrist" and no one suspects a thing even though "Tramtrist" is just "Tristram" with syllables switched around has big Sniper King energy. Also, can't forget the beautiful blonde healer girlfriend

Sanji: oh, that's the easiest one. Gawain. The Maidens' Knight, the ladies' man, a great warrior and one of the king's closest and most trusted men. If you put together Gawain's characterizations from different texts, from SGATGK to Le Morte to the Vulgate & Post-Vulgate to Chrétien de Troyes to everything, you end up with a contradictory character who is simultaneously the best and the worst guy you'll ever meet, which is how I often feel about Sanji, tbh. Would totally fight at a tournament on behalf of a little girl. Has some kind of an epic gay thing with Lancelot

Chopper: Yvain. Son of a sorceress - ah, pardon, a woman of science; associated with animals; known to be nice and kind (the Vulgate Cycle describes him as the one "whose heart will be filled with every kindness"). Occasionally goes insane in the woods (Monster Point), but, like, who doesn't

Robin: try as I might, I can't pull any direct parallels out of my ass, but I do think that narratively she can be seen as kind of a quasi-Mordred. Since her very childhood she was proclaimed to be bad news and expected to eventually cause a catastrophe, but where Mordred, whom no one tries to persuade the prophecy doesn't define him, ends up becoming exactly what he's expected to become, Robin has people who support her and trust her even after witnessing her be the bad guy in the past, so she never becomes the evil others expect her to turn into

Franky: Sagramore the Desirous (or the Unruly, depending on the text/translation) is a big, strong, good-natured knight who probably has low blood sugar needs to have a snack after fighting because otherwise he'll pass out, much like a certain cyborg needs his cola. In the Post-Vulgate, he and Mordred were raised together, which can be linked to Frobin's fates being intertwined since childhood, because I've Connected the Dots (you didn't connect shit)

Brook: I wanted to pick a character of the older generation who nevertheless isn't a mentor figure to Arthur, and I struggle to think of a better option than Pellinore - not the predatory piece of shit in the medieval texts, but the eccentric but loveable old man in Camelot (1967). Brook is also on a quest focused on an extraordinary beast! Only he's not hunting it, he's trying to get back to it because that beast is his friend 🥺

Jinbei: I honestly don't remember if he counts as the Knight of the Round Table, but I am hereby appointing him Ector - Arthur's adoptive father and one of the nicest parental figures in Arthuriana (and probably one of the nicest people in Arthuriana, period). I've also considered Galehaut for the "(partially) non-human ruler who allies himself with Arthur" angle, but that would imply Jinbei/Zoro and I'm not ready to deal with that.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #god usopp #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #cyborg franky #soul king brook #jinbei #gella talks one piece #talk talk talk #initially this included a line about sagramore being a himbo & franky being a genius engineer easily mistaken for a himbo #but i ctrl+f'd through a couple of volumes of the vulgate & i can't find what prompted me to think of sagramore as a himbo. besides Vibes #wouldn't wanna throw unwarranted accusations around

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strawberrypinky · 9 months

Text

all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 2 - a. sharp x reader

for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him.

or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of – part two baby!

A/N: Part Two of what was supposed to be a single, short and smutty one shot of my recent fictional obsession: Professor Sharp. Part two is where the breeding kink 'finally' hits – apologies in advance. I haven't written smut in quite a while and I shockingly have never published any before. The depravity was strong with this one and I sincerely hope my mother never finds this. I may be in my twenties but she'd still ship me off to a convent if she did.

Please remember that this takes place during Victorian Times – Women were not nearly as educated as we are today on Sex and Pleasure. MC is a virgin – so she might come off as slightly naive/dumb at times. It's all consensual tho, don't worry.

Thank you again to @legacygirlingreen for enabling me & being my number one supporter on the road to hell. I couldn't have done this without you (seriously, you were a saint) 🤪💚 This one is for you 💚

To everyone reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻 This was a first. Part Two is the 'final' (as if this wasn't supposed to be a one shot either way lol) - however if someone enables me enough, part three is always a possibility. That said; please don't enable me 💀

Onwards now; I have promised @fizzlewick a Regency/Pride and Prejudice AU! with our favourite Potions Professor as Mr. Darcy.

FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour

CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Victorian attitudes towards Sex, Smut (18+, MDNI - lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Cockwarming, Accidental Virginity Kink

Word Count (Part 2): 15.5k (again - this escalated)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/123361243

Part One: Click here

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible even for someone like him.

She loved him.

She. Loved. HIM.

It was a mantra that he found himself repeating over and over again, never quite believing that this wasn't some sick and twisted dream he would wake up from. But it wasn't a dream, and the extraordinary woman he had fallen in love with, had fallen for him too. He fell asleep with her in his arms every night since that night, his room practically vacant, only for him to return to in the early morning to get dressed and prepare himself for the day ahead, and each morning he fell in love all over again – her face aglow in the morning light. It was bliss. Pure and delicious bliss.

They had kept their newfound romance largely private, restricted to lingering touches when nobody could see and the small reprieve her hut could offer, though Aesop suspected that their colleagues knew. At the very least, they presumed their dynamic had shifted, even if they did not know to which extent. His love hadn't even told Eleazar, which surprised Aesop, given that the man truly was like a father to her (and a much better one at that, too), but it made their love all the more sacred. If ever Aesop paid Dinah any attention over dinner, he could spot her knowing smirk, carefully hidden behind her goblet, but it was there even if she never outright said anything.

His mood had much improved, no longer weighed down by the constant nagging feeling of unrequited love and the lingering 'What if?' – her smile and scent no longer torturous but a source of comfort and longing. He still wondered what she saw in him, but the devotion she looked at him with let him believe that this could be forever. Selfishly he let himself dream of days in the English countryside, hidden away in cottages from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, but if selfishness was what this yearning was, Aesop would let himself be a greedy glutton, for he never wished to miss her presence in his life again.

"You think too much," she mumbled, curled into his chest as the sun was slowly starting to rise on the horizon, filling her hut with a glowing orange light.

"I think too much?" he smiled down at her, her eyes still closed in bliss, his masculine scent of firewhiskey and sandalwood enveloping her senses. He had heard that one before.

"Mhm," she hummed, opening her tired eyes to look up at his, his hair still dishevelled and unkempt. "I can almost hear your brooding."

"Apologies, my lady," he jested. "I will be careful to not disturb your beauty sleep any further."

"I will hold you to it", she sighed, falling into his warm embrace, wholly content. "A gentleman should stay true to his word."

"I'm hardly a gentleman," Aesop chuckled lowly. "For if I was, I would not be in your bed without a ring on your finger and a shared last name."

He could see a blush spreading on her cheeks, a timid look of amusement gracing her gentle features. "Perhaps not," she expressed, "but I recall you calling yourself my husband a while ago."

"To defend your honour," the potions master retorted lowly, still enraged whenever someone brought up her unfortunate family. Her father was as equally exasperating as Phineas Black – a herculean task in Aesop's mind, and he had only met the guy for but a single moment.

"How gallant of you," (Y/N) snickered, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "I have been irredeemable in his eyes the very second I boarded the carriage to Hogwarts."

"Hm..." Aesop mumbled, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, feeling the soft lock between his calloused fingers. "Forgive my sharp tongue, but I do not believe I give a single fuck as to what that poor excuse of a man thinks. And neither should you, my love."

"Aesop Cyril Sharp!" his beloved gasped, accompanied by a light slap on his chest. "What a poor choice of words in front of a lady."

Aesop's chest rumbled with laughter, his arms tightening around (Y/N) as she grinned up at him, his heart jumping with glee. They held each other, content as the world around them slowly awoke from its slumber – a new day signalling its commencement. It was a moment of serenity, a place nobody but them existed before they would soon go about their days again, following their routines as they needed to, sharing the glances of secret lovers before their rather clandestine encounters at night would reunite them once more – and Aesop was already counting down the hours, waiting until his love was in his arms again.

"You'll have to sneak back to the castle soon," the young woman in his arms sighed, a dejected pout on her lips.

"I feel like a whippersnapper," Aesop groaned. "Surreptitiously wandering about the grounds."

She giggled gleefully again, pressing herself into his chest. "You are my whippersnapper then."

Aesop's heart jumped again, overfilling with love and boastful pride at the determinative she had used— My whippersnapper.

"Indeed I am," he sighed contently, pressing a kiss atop her head, inhaling her saccharine scent as her hair tickled his nose.

Wistfully Aesop rose from his comforting and warm position on the bed, hissing as his leg protested the movement. Some days it hurt worse than others – today looked to be a rather grim day, even if the days had become warmer again. She was at his side in a second, her arms wrapped around his middle in comfort.

"Do you need me to get you your potion? Or anything else?"

"No," Aesop pressed out, clenching his teeth for a second before he released a shuddering breath, massaging his leg with disdain. He felt as if a perfectly fine morning had been ruined – another reminder that he was wholly inadequate when the woman behind him was not. She only hummed, letting her nimble small hands trace his arms in a soothing motion before pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck. He stood up with careful steps after a while, avoiding too much pressure on his blasted leg.

As he swiftly exchanged his nightshirt for the suit he had worn yesterday, he could hear (Y/N) bustling in the main room of her hut, likely preparing a cup of tea for him as she usually did before he left. The fragrant aroma of Earl Grey fills his nose; the cup appearing in front of him with a tiredly smiling (Y/N) as he gratefully took the cup from her, perfectly warm and not too hot. She traced patterns on his arm as he greedily drank from the cup, the warmth filling his body and providing a strange relief to his leg, reducing the pain to a bearable thrumming.

"Did you put something in here?" Aesop asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Perhaps," she tilted her head with a sly grin. "Did it help?"

"It...did," He avowed, placing the cup on the nightstand before pulling her into his arms.

"Whenever I had a second to spare, I tried to brew on my own," her fingertips still danced over his arms. "You do not have to do this alone anymore, Aesop."

"I do not need your pity," he frowned, though he kept his arms around her waist in a protective embrace. Humiliation coursed through him at her admittance – he was incomplete, crippled. Whatever did she want with him? Surely someone more capable would be able to give her much more, even if the mere thought of her in the arms of someone else asphyxiated him like –

"I know you do not," she smiled, interrupting his train of thought. "Would you let me suffer if I were in pain from a curse?"

"Of course not," Aesop brisked, incensed at the mere thought. "I would not want you suffering needlessly."

"Then do not expect me to sit by idly for you," she whispered, pulling him down by the lapel of his coat. "My foolish whippersnapper."

His lips met hers with a pleased hum, his beard scratching her soft skin, undoubtedly leaving a slight burn.

Perhaps Aesop could truly be selfish – because if the gods above blessed him with the celestial woman in his arms, nothing but believing that reprieve was possible for someone like him was imaginable.

When the weather got even warmer, and June approached them, final exams were soon to be held – as they were every year. Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves busier than ever; their time spent together dwindled to a minimum, which left Aesop rather frustrated most days. More often than not, Aesop had to spend his nights preparing odd brews his students would need to identify, never mind the endless amounts of Invigoration and Calming Draughts Madam Blainey requested at an alarming rate. In any case, Aesop felt like he was drowning in work – a common occurrence towards the end of the school – so it was a welcome distraction when he was forced to leave the dungeons for just a day, even if the trip he needed to take was all but a requirement for him to continue his brewing in the first place.

Aesop's potion supplies were dwindling at a quick pace, and neither his love nor Mirabel were able to keep up with the demand; thus, he found himself forced to take a trip to Feldcroft. Bernard Ndiaye was able to provide Aesop with a few of the missing ingredients, so on a sunny Saturday afternoon, his love and he took the short trip to Feldcroft, a village she had unfortunately only gotten to know under less than cheerful circumstances. Ever since she had successfully fought Ranrok and his rebellion, the hamlet, which had nearly been in ruins once, had been rebuilt and was now a flourishing and quaint place filled with life and many small families.

"I used to think this place was right out of a storybook," she chirped next to him, their arms intertwined as they walked through the Scottish Highlands, approaching Feldcroft with idle steps. The warm weather and the potion (Y/N) had brewed provided enough alleviation for Aesop to promenade for a short while – it was not a cure, nor a long-term solution to his predicament, but like their newfound romance, it was a new dawn.

"Is that so?" Aesop asked, looking down at her. "Well, they certainly owe you for their...liberation."

"I can hardly take all the credit," she waved him off, rosy blush on her cheeks. "They have done exceptionally well ever since Ranrok's loyalists have all but fled."

"Yes, well, and who is to credit for that? Remind me?"

"I do not know what you are talking about?" she grinned at him now, aware of how much her stories from her fifth year rattled him. Or, in Aesop's words, how much they would 'turn him grey before his time'.

"I believe the Order of Merlin that has been bestowed upon your name would beg to differ," he grunted.

"And it is rotting away in Eleazar's home – I have washed my hands of it a long time ago."

"Proudly displayed, no doubt."

"On the mantle of the fireplace," she affirmed with a desolate groan. "I have tried to convince him to burn it – his efforts have been largely in vain."

"He is exceptionally proud of you," Aesop explained with newfound kindness. "After Miriam died, he was... in a rather dark place. The rest of us staff were worried, which is why Matilda persuaded Black to send Eleazar your way when the Book spat out your name."

"Oh," she mumbled. "I never knew."

"You do know they never had children. To him, you are like his own."

"As he is like my father," she nodded absentmindedly. "I owe everything to him."

"A notion I'm confident he shares. So let him display that blasted Order – you are his greatest joy."

She did not argue with him; a slight nod was her only agreement. Aesop once again noticed how much smaller than him she was; the top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. In his mind, she fit into his side like a perfect puzzle piece.

Ndiaye now had a small shop instead the cart (Y/N) remembered from years ago, the place flourishing with the various plants and beast products that littered the business. Ndiaye, much like everyone else, recognised (Y/N) immediately, and Aesop was yet another step closer to grey hair upon hearing the story of how she recklessly risked her life – all for two crates of Chomping Cabbages. Mirabel would have been proud; Aesop was convinced of it.

When they exited his shop, by-products in hand and arms intertwined again, they were intercepted by none other than Sebastian Sallow himself.

"(Y/N)? Professor Sharp?!" the former Slytherin resident troublemaker exclaimed, bewildered, jogging up to the trio with large steps. His eyes did not leave their joined arms – looking at the couple like they had grown an extra head. He had grown up, no longer a chubby-faced teenager but a man with a sharp jawline, a full beard and broad shoulders; the only boyish thing remaining his flocculant and unkempt hair. Aesop still towered over him, unsurprisingly. He was exceptionally tall, after all.

"Sebastian!" his love exclaimed, freeing herself from Aesop's side to happily hug her closest friend – even if she seemed slightly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had moved to the Cotswolds?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sebastian teased with a sly grin, his eyes going back and forth between Aesop and her. "But truthfully, we're here because Anne wanted to meet Estelle."

'We're'? 'Estelle'? Aesop thought, befuddled – a sentiment his paramour did not share.

"Oh, I am so sorry I haven't come to visit!" she apologised profusely. "But Exams have been utterly crazy – we've hardly had any time to do much aside from grading and preparing."

Sebastian only waved her off with a content smile. "Don't fret – we used the time to acclimate to our lives now."

"I can only imagine," she chuckled. "Who would have thought? You, Mr Capital R Rake, Sebastian Sallow, would be the first of our group of misfits to marry and father a child?"

Ah, so this was what their conversation had been about. Of course – Aesop remembered now. (Y/N) had been quite affronted, if not downright disappointed, when Sebastian had kept his marriage and impending fatherhood a secret for months. When he timely announced the birth of his daughter, a child they had named Estelle, his love was over the moon for him and his wife and wouldn't stop talking about visiting the two.

Sebastian chuckled, his smile proud as he puffed out his chest. "Not me, that I'm sure of. Would you like to meet her? I'm confident Megan wouldn't mind."

"I would love to," she agreed, turning around to face Aesop. "Would you mind?"

"No, of course not," Aesop shook his head. "Shall I head back to the castle then?"

"Such a silly man," she giggled, grabbing his hand and masterfully ignoring the comically wide-eyed stare of Sebastian. "You must beat Ominis at his game of being the favourite uncle."

"When did this happen?!" he finally asked, looking as if he were ready to burst.

"February," (Y/N) admitted bashfully, wrapping her arm around Aesop's with a rosy smile. "We've been keeping it under our hats mostly."

"And you were mad I kept my marriage a secret?!" Sebastian sounded affronted, evidently not believing what he was witnessing.

"That's different. We're courting. Unlike someone here, I would not keep my marriage or motherhood a secret."

"That's not – Merlin, he's our old potions professor."

"I may be handicapped, Mr Sallow, but I can assure you, I can hear quite well," Aesop interjected, though he could not deny the happiness that surged in his heart upon his sweetheart admitting that they were courting to one of her dearest friends. She wasn't ashamed of him.

"We are colleagues, Sebastian. Equals," (Y/N) added, her tone leaving no room for any argument to be made. "In any case, you should be showing me, my niece, right now."

"This isn't over," Sebastian mumbled as he led them towards his aged childhood home, which his twin had settled in with her own partner, a travelling merchant from a nearby hamlet.

Aesop hadn't seen Anne Sallow for years, not since she had been cursed. He remembered her to be the ringleader of trouble before she left Hogwarts due to her unfortunate ailment, and while she had never found a cure for it, (Y/N) ending the reign of terror and life of Victor Rookwood – the man who had cursed her – enabled her to live a without day to day debilitating pain.

She was just as stunned as Sebastian had been upon hearing of their relationship, but she still chatted with her former professor, even if the conversation was entirely awkward. Aesop endured for her sake mostly, and it was worth it – nothing would ever make him forget the sheer and utter joy on his love's face when she held her tiny 'niece' in her arms.

Aesop was astonished at how such a wee little thing was able to tear such a starstruck and enchanted smile from a person – he was sure (Y/N) had never smiled as big. He watched as she cooed over little Estelle, her smile blinding as she cradled the tiny thing in her arms, carefully supporting her back and neck. She looked like she had done this a million times, positively natural, and Aesop didn't know whether it was her or him, but his mind was suddenly filled with pictures of her doing precisely this with their kids. When he was younger, he hadn't ever thought of kids, perhaps only as a natural consequence of marriage and marital relations and after his accident, he had written the prospect off entirely. No woman wanted a cripple, much less one as a father to possible children. Now, though, he had a woman who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and she was young and had even admitted to wanting children. Perhaps they were a possibility after all?

"Aesop?" his beloved turned her attention towards him. "Isn't she just precious?"

"Certainly," Aesop agreed though he did not mean the baby – which was bound to be precious nonetheless. He could not help the smirk that graced his face upon catching Sebastian Sallow's indignant expression.

"You should hold her too," Megan, Sebastian's wife, suddenly suggested, a curious glance on her face.

"I really think I shouldn't," he chuckled upon seeing Sebastian Sallow's face contort strangely. Poor lad would likely never get used to it.

"No, please do," Megan, the wife of Sallow, smiled at him. "Ignore my husband - he's a little thickheaded."

"A little?!" Anne and (Y/N) giggled in unison, promptly ignoring the sound of indignance Sebastian let out.

"Excuse me for being confused over this...," he waved around wildly with his hands, "situation."

"Oh, please. Get over it," Megan rolled her eyes, a teasing grin on her face. "Besides, if our daughter is anything like us, having teachers in her corner will be a godsend when she inevitably gets into trouble at Hogwarts."

"Oh, so this is where it's coming from," Aesop shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't play favourites."

"You will," Megan winked conspiratorially, beckoning him to introduce little Estelle. With her delicate arms and gentle touch, (Y/N) placed the little girl in his arms, smiling at him as he held her; though he was not quite as natural as she was, the tiny thing held awkwardly in his arms. The baby was asleep, so he couldn't view her eyes, but if he had to, Aesop reckoned Estelle resembled her father far more than she did her mother. It made him stop and think about what his children would look like, and instantly, he wished, prayed, they would look like her.

"Not so bad after all, am I right, Bash?" Megan playfully jested, watching the disdain on her husband's face. "Even if our daughter looks positively tiny in those arms."

"She is tiny," Sebastian remarked. "And in any case, this is weird. (Y/N) you do know I thought him to be a git?"

"Sebastian!" Megan and (Y/N) gasped simultaneously, though Aesop could only snort in amusement.

"I wholeheartedly believed you to be one of my more promising students, Mister Sallow," Aesop admitted, his eyebrow raised as Sebastian looked at him with surprise. "If you had applied yourself a little more instead of recklessly breaking the rules and surging into things without even considering any consequence, I might have been less...stern with you."

"I do not surge into things without considering the consequences," Sebastian retorted with affronted indignance – the woman in the room now chortling with mirth.

"Oh no," Megan giggled. "That is precisely why you were cursed in that blasted tomb of the two lovers and thus experienced...ehem... heightened...carnal pleasure."

If Aesop had been a man to blush, he likely would have. Sebastian Sallow undoubtedly was. His love was, too, averting her gaze from anyone and anything – a ferocious blush on her cheeks.

"That was one time," he yapped, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Of course," Megan rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the woman beside her. "He was ready to deflower me in that very same tomb. We undoubtedly have to devise a sweeter story about our first meeting if Estelle ever asks."

"Agreed," Sebastian cleared his throat.

"That's really Sebastian, though," his love chuckled, blush still on her cheeks as she focused on the little babe in Aesop's arms, gently stroking her head in a motherly fashion. "I, for one, can recall a very similar event involving a goblin mine."

Aesop was certain his old heart would give out soon, for this was bound to be yet another tale of her recklessly, foolishly risking her life. She had an affinity for it, no doubt. The words 'goblin mine' were enough to fill him with terror and astonishment – He did not understand how she had survived this long.

"Do I want to know?" Aesop asked with a groan, eliciting a giggle from her.

"No," she shook her head with a wink. "No, you really don't."

"I, for one, agree," Sebastian shuddered. "I am not keen on getting slaughtered by an ex-auror today."

"Oh, Aesop is not that sinister," his love giggled.

"Oh no, I am," Aesop interjected with a threatening smile. "I may have been out of the field for over a decade, but best believe I can still make it look like an accident. I promised your...father," the word spat from his tongue, "as much."

"Your father?" Sebastian asked, his tone worried and, dare Aesop say, alarmed? "What..."

"I don't wish to talk about it," (Y/N) waved him off hurriedly. "Aesop dealt with him more than I did."

"Did he now?" Sebastian mused, a thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly he regarded Aesop with a little less disdain and horror.

Aesop did not count the minutes or hours they stayed at the former Sallow residence. It had been a pleasant change from the frenzied and fully engulfing pre-examination environment at the castle, the atmosphere joyful with little Estelle, even when she had briefly awoken and promptly shown off her impressively large lung. When he and his love were finally leaving, the sun was setting on the horizon, casting a beautifully orange glow over the Scottish Highlands, a warm summer breeze carrying the slightly salty air from the sea.

"Sharp?" Sebastian Sallow lowly called out to him as Megan and (Y/N) said their goodbyes, the latter cooing at the tiny baby in Megan's arms, seemingly not wishing to part from her at all.

"Yes?" Aesop sighed, his leg starting to ache and his mood souring as he remembered how much he would have to brew throughout the night.

"Did you truly meet her father?"

Aesop was surprised, though he tried not to let it show. Sebastian had been her friend for many years; perhaps he knew more than Aesop did, the issue of her father still one she avoided most days – not even considering the simple fact that she saw Eleazar as hers in any case.

"We did," he affirmed with a curt nod. "Dratted meater if you'd ask me."

"I can't say I ever had the displeasure of meeting the man," Sebastian scoffed. "But if you truly took care of him in her place, then...I suppose I should thank you.

Aesop only raised his eyebrow.

"She is akin to family for me and wholly responsible for me standing here at all. For being able to have a family – my daughter. What I am trying to convey, I suppose, is please take care of her."

"You have my word."

A week passed and then another, both in a similar manner as the others before had; their time largely spent apart during the days as they prepared their students for their final exams and OWLs and NEWTS. Yet when the sun had gone down, and the stars were glittering like a million diamonds over the castle, Aesop found himself precisely where he longed to be: in her home, her in his arms or next to him on the comfortable armchairs, the world around them away far enough for just a while. When in her hut, surrounded by warmth and the feeling of 'home', his thoughts cleared miraculously, no longer filled with exams and potions and students that likely would never achieve anything beyond a 'poor'.

Megan Sallow had, as Aesop continued to realise, been right: Little Estelle Sallow would enable him to play favourites – if he was still a Professor by then, of course. More notably, though, seeing his love hold the small child and holding her himself filled him with more and more dreams and desires for his own children, the dreams of days hidden in the English countryside now vividly brighter as tiny feet ran around his mind endlessly echoing as if he were stuck in an everlasting pensive memory. It was ludicrous, foolish even – just a mere year ago, Aesop had believed himself to be resigned to forever Bachelorhood, his fate of living alone and forlorn for the rest of his days not likely to ever change. But it had – for fate had steered a most exquisite and extraordinary woman on his path, and perhaps, just perhaps, she would be inclined to share more than just a life with him.

The very picture of her holding little Estelle was etched into his mind, creating a desire he hadn't thought possible. Aesop did not understand how something so small could hold such power over him. But it did. He wondered if –

"Sickle for your thoughts?" his lover's sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts as she placed her lesson plans for the following week on the small coffee table before she stood up and walked to her small stove.

"I was just reminiscing," he answered truthfully.

"Oh?" She looked at him with her soft gaze, her head titled in genuine interest. "What of?"

"Estelle," Aesop sighed. "I fear her mother may be right, and I will be playing favourites in a few years. Do not let Sallow know I said that, though."

"We both will," she chuckled, preparing another kettle to make more tea, the warm light of the fireplace painting her in an ethereal glow. Though the summer was comfortably mild, the evenings and nights still got cold; thus, Aesop was thankful she continued to light the fireplace. "She was just a darling little thing."

"Not as adorable as ours would be," Aesop let slip out, his tone even as he was only half joking as the thought continued manifesting in his mind. Their children would be more adorable - Aesop was sure of it. Especially because they would be hers – tiny, perfect replicas of her, with her wonderfully bright and loving eyes, her warm persona and exceptional talent.

"I am not certain where this is coming from all of a sudden, but," she shook her head. "You are not half as shocking as you think you are," giggling quietly as she helped herself to another cup of tea, the fragrant, flowery aroma of rooibos filling the space.

"Oh?" Aesop couldn't help but raise his eyebrow as he watched her. Her beautiful hair was shimmering in the low light of her cabin, her (Y/H/C) waves cascading down her shoulders just like Aesop adored, a shift from the elaborate updos and styles she commonly wore – her hair soft and full, likely smelling of citrus and hyacinth, her skin tingling with spring. In short: She was utterly irresistible.

He could almost feel his manhood straining against his breeches, observing her hum lowly as her hips swayed in an unfamiliar rhythm, her face content, complete with a dainty smile. The atmosphere felt domestic, and Aesop found himself pulled into visions of the English countryside again, the images becoming more vivid with each second that time passed them by. He wanted, needed, more.

"Your bark is far worse than your bite," she continued, her tone teasing as she shot him a grin before returning her attention to the stove.

Is that what she truly believed? That his bark was worse than his bite? Had she forgotten that he had been an Auror? That, realistically, he could crush her tiny body between two fingers?

Before Aesop could stop himself, he had risen from his position in front of the fireplace, stalking toward her like a predator seeking its prey – a fitting description in Aesop's mind. She did not notice him, and it was far too easy for him to slowly wrap his arms around her tiny waist and pull himself against her. He could feel her warm body tense below his fingers, her breath hitching as he towered over her. His hair fanned out against her cheeks when he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against her ear. Goosebumps were rising on her body, and he could make out the slightest shiver the closer he leaned into her.

He revelled in the way her body responded to his. So pliant. So... submissive.

"I can assure you, my love," he breathed out against her ear, "that my bite is just as bad."

An audible gasp escaped her as she fidgetted in his arms and turned around, though he kept his arms tightly locked around her waist – trapping her between the stove and himself. She stared up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes wide as they met his blown-out pupils that bore into hers.

"A-Aesop," she stuttered out. He watched as her cheeks turned rosy, her mouth slightly open. Though their touches had lingered over the past weeks, and their nights had been spent in the embrace of one another, Aesop hadn't been particularly bold or forthcoming beyond precisely that – their romance sweet and innocent and virtuous. He knew of her inexperience, but ever so carefully, he moved his hand upwards, his touch a mere ghost against her body before reaching her face and cupping her chin below his finger. His thumb moved against her lips. They were plump and soft - as was the rest of her.

His self-control was slipping, his manhood straining, and he felt like a juvenile delinquent. Aesop didn't want or ask for many things in life, but at this moment, he desired her.

"Tell me, Y/N," he breathed out, "Do you truly believe that yourself?"

"I-"

His hands moved back to her hips, his hold somewhere between a tight grip and a gentle caress. He wanted to caress her, hold her, love her. And he was unable to suppress his desires any longer. He pressed his front against hers, letting her feel what she did to him, her audible gasp and rosy cheeks sending another jolt down his spine. Her cheeks were burning deliciously, and she simply stared at him.

"Aesop," she whimpered helplessly. He was all-consuming. His deliciously musky scent of sandalwood and firewhiskey enveloped her until all her senses were inhabited by him and only him. His body surrounded her, and the warmth he emitted was nearly suffocating, but it was Aesop, after all.

Aesop.

The same man she had grown to love as much as she had. A man she would entrust her entire life with, knowing that he would do the same. A man who loved her wholeheartedly by his own admittance, who had defended her honour against a man he had never known when she had not even been his. His beard was rough against her cheeks, his head slowly moving down as he pressed feather-light kisses on her jaw and neck. He deeply inhaled her scent, never getting enough, relishing in the slight tremors that shook his love and the whimpers that fell from her lips.

"My love," he mumbled as he continued to kiss her neck, bent down awkwardly to her much smaller height and frame, caressing her sides as he held her close. "You would be the most stunning mother." His hands found her hips, one of them reaching to carefully touch her lower stomach, the very place that would swell with their children, where she would safely carry them until they were ready to come earthside. His voice was gentle, scarcely above a whisper, yet its rough rumbling sound resonated within the air.

"Is that something you could wish for?" he mumbled, looking at her before he placed his lips upon hers, savouring her saccharine taste as they moved in sync; him much more dominating. "For me to make you a mother?"

Her eyes bulged, looking at him, shell-shocked with her mouth still open. "Ae-Aesop," she stuttered lowly, "where is this coming from?"

He smirked at her, his caramel eyes meeting hers with a piercing gaze – a heated shiver tumbling down her spine. "I have not stopped thinking about it ever since you have held Estelle. You were captivating."

His lips met hers again, a blazing fire of desire and want behind the kiss that swallowed her whole.

"Aesop we," she gasped. "We can't. We're not even wedded."

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth. If this was her only problem, it could easily be rectified. More so, Aesop wanted to rectify it. "You think I would want to fuck my children into some random woman?" His voice was several tones deeper, still pressed into her as she took in his unusually forthright and vulgar words with wide eyes. "If it were up to me, my love, we could be married on the morrow and expedite our wedding night."

"Y-you – you want to marry me?"

"Let me reiterate," Aesop whispered against her lips. "I will not fuck my children into anyone but my wife. Anything you yearn for, it's yours."

He observed her face carefully – meticulously. His love wore her heart on her sleeve, conflicting emotions clouding her features. This was her decision and hers alone; she would carry and birth their children, after all. Just before he could pull away and express to her that she had all the time in the world that she needed, her quiet, breathless voice reached his.

"Will it...hurt?" she asked with uncertainty, biting her lip as she stared up into Aesop's eyes. She knew very little of marital relations, her mother telling her just enough to understand what needed to happen for her to conceive. Beasts were luckily quite the same, but in any case, the act did not sound or seem pleasant – but for Aesop and a chance at a family with him, she could endure.

"For a second," he spoke truthfully. "Just a second."

"Okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, letting him place his lips against hers. His mouth felt dominating, his beard coarse against her soft skin, lightly distracting her from his manhood pressing into her lower stomach. Arousal, excitement, anxiousness... they coursed through her as she let herself be enveloped and cared for by him.

Aesop slowly guided her towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers, leaving him in a rather awkward position bent down to her height with his leg thrumming away lowly, but the sheer yearning was enough to make him forget the lingering pain, his sense zeroing in on her and the way her body felt beneath his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kept pressing himself into her, his manhood finding purchase and a torturous relief; before, reluctantly, he moved his lips from hers, both of them breathing deeply.

Ever so carefully, with Aesop's eyes never leaving hers, his fingers moved to her front, carefully unbuttoning her bodice, her chest rapidly moving up and down.

"You do not have to lay with me if you don't wish to," Aesop mumbled, his hands ceasing their careful administrations though he held them at her chest.

"I want to," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."

Aesop nodded with a smile, leaning in to kiss her again as his hands removed her bodice, his hands moving around her waist again to carefully unwrap her overskirt; before long, the delicate fabric joined her bodice on the floor, leaving her in her corset and bloomers. Their lips moved in unison, passionately filling his and her soul before they became one, and Aesop could feel her delicate, diminutive hands working to liberate him of his vest. He smiled contently into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest at her rather ungainly movements of opening the buttons but allowing her to feel him just as he felt her. Aesop's hand trailed a line against the bone of her hip, his other hand holding her waist steady as the warmth of her body slowly seeped through the thick material of the corset. Pulling away, Aesop could see the peak of her breasts pressing against the corset, barely spilling over – teasing him deliciously.

Her delicate hands tugged at his vest before Aesop let it fall to the ground alongside her garb, leaving him in his breeches and a cotton blouse, some chest hair peeking through at the top. She smiled at him – shyly, nervously, but Aesop could not glimpse a flicker of uncertainty. Carefully, he reached around her, ably loosening the laces of her corset, before the torturous thing joined the rest of her garments and his vest on the floor. She gasped, a sudden sensation of vulnerability as Aesop saw her chest in all its glory, her peaks hardening against the sudden air that kissed them in a welcoming embrace. Before she could cover herself, Aesop tenderly grabbed her wrists, holding them in his much larger hands, his eyes never leaving hers – warm and comforting.

"You are exquisite," he whispered, pulling her close. His larger body enveloped hers, her peaks chafing against the cotton with delicious friction before he kissed her fervently again, his hands roaming across her body as hers found his waist.

Though his body had significantly changed ever since he had left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aesop remained lean and well-muscled, his shoulders still broad and strong – the assertive air around him never leaving. She could feel it between her fingertips, his shirt leaving little to the imagination as it clung to his body like a second skin.

She gasped into him when his hands suddenly touched her breasts, his hands fondling, fondling them gently, effortlessly cupping them in his large hands. Two fingers slowly swirled around her hardened peaks, teasing her with a gentle, loving caress, swallowing her soft moans as he put forth all his longing and desire into the kiss. Against his mouth, Aesop could feel her soft whining; his manhood twitching as desire unlike he's ever felt before rushing through him.

"Get on the bed," Aesop growled lowly, eyes half-lidded in eros. She pulled away shakily, her eyes trained on him as he guided her towards the bed, letting herself lower down on the mattress when the back of her knees met the edge. Aesop stepped closer, looking down at her with an untamed gaze that sent shivers of craving and a newfound feeling she couldn't describe through her body. His fingers trailed below her chin, tilting it up slightly as he took her in. He felt like a young gentleman again, brimming with ferocious, carnal appetite when he had scarcely even touched her yet. Merlin knew he needed to be gentle – her inexperience and what Aesop suspected was a grand dearth of knowledge were bound to make this…interesting enough.

"And you are entirely certain you want this?" his voice unrecognisable.

"Yes," she whimpered, her nerves alight. For so long, it had been ingrained into her that she was not to lay with a man unless he was her husband, her very existence at Hogwarts having brought shame upon her family. And yet, as Aesop's presence enveloped her, she could not deny herself the sheer wanting and craving with the lasciviousness the moment brought.

He moved to his knees, his leg thrumming as he unhurriedly removed her bloomers, the tips of his fingers grazing her sides before she was as naked as the day she was born. The blaze of arousal that ran through him was as intense as the sun, and he has to remind himself like a chant that this is a first for her. He has to be gentle.

"Lay back," Aesop rasped out, rising to his feet again to remove his boots before he joined her on the bed, leaning over her with one arm supporting his upper body.

His eyes bore into hers as he slowly let his hand trail a sweet caress down her body. His touch was feather-light, the tips of his fingers scantily making contact with her heated skin, but it was enough to perceive the goosebumps that littered it. Her mouth was slightly open, though her eyes were wide - filled with anticipation, wonder and the lingering fear of the unknown.

His hand travelled lower, perhaps slightly clumsily, until it finally reached her hip and then the apex of her thighs. Her breath sped up slightly, but her eyes held onto his and Aesop revelled in the trust she was giving him. She had offered herself on a silver plate, and he would not stop until he had devoured her whole.

Ever so slowly, he manoeuvred her legs open, settling himself between them before his hand travelled lower and finally reached the place he wanted to absolutely wreck.

Aesop felt the small wet tuft, his touch teasing as he carefully slid his finger up and down her slit.

"Oh," she gasped, surprised, her breath speeding up as her thighs clenched around him.

"So responsive," Aesop chuckled lowly, "and I have barely even touched you."

She only whined when his touch became bolder, his middle finger pressing down on her womanhood as his thumb searched for her clit. If he wanted to fuck her - if she wanted him to take her, he would need to prepare her in every way conceivable.

"Is this good?" he breathed out, his eyes still not leaving hers as he leant down, peppering her face in soft and gentle kisses. His fingers, at last, found her little nub – small and hard, peeking out like a treasured secret, his thumb simply pressing down on, whilst his middle finger caressed up and down, and she gasped out, her back rising from the bed.

"Yes," she finally found her words and nodded meekly. "I - Ah!"

Aesop chuckled as he pressed down harder, slowly drawing precise circles on her clit as her womanhood gradually became more and more damp beneath his ministrations. He littered small kisses along her cheeks and jaw – barely tangible – as she whined and squirmed underneath him, her breath reduced to erratic pants that only fuelled his own arousal. His breeches were confining, but witnessing her descent into bliss was nothing if not a blessing. This was his personal Eden - Aesop was sure of it.

He could feel her hole, tight and searing and oh so enticing, as his index finger joined his middle finger and touched her with newfound vigour. His thumb increased the pressure on her clit, and she keened.

"Aesop!"

"Yes?" he mumbled, his mouth on her throat, suckling tiny precious bruises all over. He could feel her heartbeat when his lips trailed her jugular vein, and it beat in the rhythm of his own. Her whining and squirming made him growl, but he would have been lying if it didn't excite him all the same.

"I- Ah!"

"Use your words, my sweet girl," Aesop drew back, his eyes finding her face again – her eyes shut in unadulterated bliss.

"Look at me," he bade her, "I want you to look at me when I make you come. When you unravel on my fingers."

Obediently she obliged, her frantic eyes finding his as she let out desperate pants and arched up into him.

"Please," she begged him.

"Please, what?" He teased her with a wolfish grin.

"More."

She felt so utterly overwhelmed and treasured as he made her feel things she had never felt before. Aesop was all-consuming, and she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her. Pleasure she had never thought would even exist.

Between her legs, Aesop let his middle finger wander closer to her heat, pressing deeper as he went, feeling her wetness seeping out of her. Ever so carefully, almost curiously, he inserted his finger, coaxing a kittenish trill from her.

"Oh, oh," she squirmed under him, the sensation foreign and not entirely pleasant. His finger was easily the size of two of hers, a burning feeling accompanying its breaching entrance.

"Shh," he shushed her, littering kisses over her face once more. "I have to, my love. I have to. Just... let me feel you."

A soothing exhale let her refocus on the circles he drew on her clit and the pleasure shooting through her. His movements were meticulous, calculated and more pleasing than anything she had ever tried on herself.

Against his own thighs, Aesop could feel hers tensing and flexing, and he gave her a moment's reprieve before he could sense her settling, and he steadily began moving his finger in and out. She was tight, expectedly so, which only meant he would have to put in a substantial amount of work if she were to take him. To divert her attention further, he descended his head until his mouth found her erect nipples, enveloping one as she flexed into him.

"Aesop," she moaned lowly. He hummed in response – the vibrations a delightful sensation.

Though her hut had been comfortably warm before, it felt like it was positively ablaze now, the heat flickering away at her exposed skin, arousal running through her like a Graphorn untamed. The hand that had previously held him up now moved downwards, cupping her other breast, caressing it with teasing strokes that drove her mad.

"So tight," Aesop mumbled against her breast, his finger still dragging through her heat gently and slowly. "My perfect girl. So tight and warm..."

Her breathing quickened – chest rising against Aesop's face, his beard prickly against her delicate skin. Moans escaped her mouth; his thumb steadily increased its pressure on her as he worked her open. Delicately, he slipped in a second finger, pausing as she tensed up and before her tight and warm body opened up to him, welcoming his fingers as she groaned in rhapsody.

"Aesop..."

She trembled, overwhelmed by the very emotion and intimacy of the moment, a warm heat gathering in her lower abdomen as his motions slowly sped up, the delicious pressure of his fingers on her nub bringing her closer to the edge of delirium.

"That's it," Aesop mumbled against her, slowly rising up to look at her face. "That's it, my love."

Fervently, Aesop placed his lips upon hers again, consuming her cries of bliss as her body arched into his, her nipples brushing against the cotton of his blouse. One of her hands travelled from her sides to his waist whilst the other found his hair tangling itself in it as his movements quickened. Expertly, Aesop curled his two fingers inside her, uncovering the bundle of pleasure that made her keen under him. She broke the kiss, turning her head to the side as she moaned vociferously – panting as she got closer and closer to ecstasy.

"Aesop, I –" she gasped, looking right into her lover's eyes, her pupils blown and cheeks rosy the closer he brought her to completion.

"I've got you," he promised lowly, speeding up his movements as he felt her womanhood tighten up around his fingers. "Let go, my love. I've got you."

She felt like she was burning. From the way his fingers felt on her – in her – making her sweat and drip on the sheets as she writhed beneath him, the heat burning from between her legs before it spread in every little part of her body – an all-consuming inferno.

"I – Ah!"

"That's it, my love," Aesop cooed, curling his fingers against her spot, watching as she unravelled beneath him. Her eyes clenched, her hips wriggled underneath him, canting upwards – as she chased the foreign sensation that built up inside of her. Aesop fondled her clit a little faster, flicking it with animalistic precision as his fingers mercilessly assailed that tenderly sweet spot inside of her; before long, her womanhood clenched violently, and her first orgasm swept over her. Aesop watched, enthralled and utterly bewitched, as she cried out in pleasure, her thighs clenching around his hips and her tiny hands tightening, finding his shoulders and digging into them.

"Oh! Aesop!"

He could only groan, his manhood twitching at the thought of finally settling himself inside her tight, dripping warmth. Aesop continued to move his fingers – in, out – the movement lazy, helping her ride out the crashing waves of her orgasm before her tremble ceased and her moans shifted into paltry whines. He retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he sucked on them like a man starved, tasting her ambrosial wetness. She tasted like she smelled – saccharinely sweet like honey, entirely addicting. When he opened his eyes once more, he found his love staring at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her hair spread around her head like a glowing halo. She was sweaty, her chest still heaving against the swelting heat of the hut – Aesop could feel his eyes darken in desire.

His lips met hers with another bruising kiss, his prickly beard scratching against her delicate skin. She could taste the remnants of herself on him – an odd taste if one were to ask her – but she was left utterly breathless from the sheer overwhelming intensity of emotions surging through her, her very soul intertwining with his. To love someone as deeply as she loved Aesop had been one thing, but to feel the love reciprocated and returned tenfold was another dizzying reality entirely.

"I love you," Aesop breathed out. "Fuck – I love you."

"Aesop," her eyes widened, though her heart overfilled with love at his proclamation, and her eyes filled with tears. "I love you too."

He smiled at her – how could he not? Whenever did he get this lucky?! Perhaps he had saved a nation once – there was no perspicuous reason for this love otherwise.

His hands found her sides again, feeling her curves with a reverent worshipping touch, relishing the soft skin of her much smaller body beneath the callouses of his fingers. She shivered lightly, keeping her eyes trained on his. No matter the trepidation coursing through her veins, she was safe and cared for in Aesop's arms and beneath his much larger body – enveloping her as the world around blurred outside her focus. With quivering hands, she reached out to his waist, pulling at his shirt with a subtle whine.

Aesop chuckled lowly, pulling his shirt from his breeches before he allowed her to help him pull his blouse over his head as it promptly joined the rest of their garments on the floor. His love glanced at him, a demure gaze as she followed the lines of his scars littering his torso, though most of them were hidden by the ample amount of hair that covered it.

"And you say I'm exquisite," she whispered bashfully.

Carefully, she reached out to the largest one by his ribs, following the line with the ghost of a touch into the thick fur in the middle of his chest. Her fingertips danced over his pectorals, causing Aesop to release a shuddering breath before he leaned down again to find her lips. Her hands pawed at him hungrily, almost boldly, as he devoured her lips in a searingly hot kiss.

"May I try something?" he asked breathlessly.

"I trust you."

A wolfish grin spread across his face, sending a jolt of desire down her spine, unsure of what to expect. For one last second, he drank in her gaze upon his body, watching as she took in his broad shoulders and tapered waist before he bent down again, pressing kisses along her neck and collarbones, his hot breath fanning against her bosom.

"It'll be good, I promise," he mumbled, grin still on his face as he attended to her erect nipples with two kittenish licks before he went lower. His beard scratched against her belly, the delicious friction sure to leave a slight burn on her the following day, but her eyes widened again when he went even lower.

"Stop thinking," Aesop muttered, feeling her tensing lightly beneath him as he kissed down her torso. "Just let yourself feel."

He ceased again for just a second when his lips reached her lower stomach – a moment to relish her sweet scent with blissfully closed eyes. Lovingly, tenderly, he pressed a kiss down right where her womb would be – a silent prayer, a wish, sent up to whichever God had sent her his way to ensure this would be fruitful. He knew his love was utterly magical, but this secret place of hers was capable of creating wonders he yearned for – possessively, wholly and greedy in ways he hadn't known.

"A-Aesop, what are you –?" she asked with a stutter when he went even lower, spreading her legs further, placing himself between them as he held them in his arms.

"Push me away if you wish for me to stop, my love," a grin still on his face as he lowered his body to level with her womanhood. He gazed at her – right at the place he was hoping to ravage – whimpering with desire. He wasn't sure if he had ever expected anything, but if he did, it exceeded his expectations, for she looked oh so beautiful and alluring. Unable to stop himself, he bent down, brushing his nose up and down her mound, his beard leaving a deliciously sweet burn against the skin of her thighs as she started to shake and gasp in his hold. She smelled even better than he had dreamed, and without forewarning, his lips closed around her nub and sucked.

Aesop was silently thankful her hut was nearly off grounds; the absolute wail of pleasure she let out would've been heard by the entire castle otherwise. Her hips canted upwards, her legs sealing around him, and her arms flailing around until they found Aesop's hair. She didn't push him away, but her grasp was tight, holding onto him like he was her lifeline.

"Aesop!"

He hummed lowly in response, his eyes closed at the delectable taste, pulling and suckling at her most sensitive part.

"Aesop it – Ah! 's too much I – "

Her hips moved desperately beneath him – up, down; left, right – wriggling; trying to elude his succour and moving closer simultaneously. Determined to make her stay, Aesop wrapped one of his arms around her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as the other held open her legs. There was not a single thing on earth that could have impeded Aesop's ministrations, her yelps and incoherent pleas falling on deaf ears as his tongue swirled around her clit, pressing circles into her. He desperately osculated her ambrosial wetness – wanting, craving, needing her to come undone once more, his grip on her tightening.

"'sop – Please, I – Ah!"

His name fell from her lips like a reverent prayer, her upper body thrashing around and her breath uneven as she gulped in the air between her cries of pleasure. Her quim was positively dripping – her fluids spreading against her thighs and onto the sheets of her bed. Aesop's own groans of desire sunk into her, breathing in heavy pants as he devoured her whole. His fingers found her hole again, this time easily inserting two as her womanhood clenched periodically around them. The bed jerked with her movements, the wooden frame clattering against the stone walls as the room continued to heat up.

"I – Oh, Merlin – I... Ahhh!"

Aesop chuckled, his fingers curling and hitting the same precious spot over and over again. She tasted so sweet; her womanhood frail and warm against his tongue as he lapped at her rapaciously.

"Good girl," he rasped out somewhere in between. "Doing so well for me."

Her spluttering cries filled him with wicked pride as her head thrashed against the pillows – him holding down the rest of her, leaving her entirely at his mercy – unable to do anything but take what he gave her. It was riveting to know he would be the first man to bed her, that he was the first to introduce her to the endless fields of pleasure, as much as it thrilled Aesop to know he would also be her last. His fingers dallied their movements, his tongue ceasing its assault in place of kittenish licks, wishing to draw out her ecstasy before he decided to enter a third finger. Her eyes scrunched up with the discomfort she was suddenly feeling, his tongue scarcely enough to make it decently pleasing.

"Aesop," she groaned lowly, pushing her hip into her mattress in a futile attempt to escape him – his iron grip did not relent. "It's too much."

"Shh..." he soothed her, his fingers moving in and out, curling inside her, opening her and making her all the more pliant for him. "Shh... there you go, my love. You can take it."

His arm held her hips pertinaciously as his fingers worked deeper inside with each thrust – a little further each time they moved. She yelped, pleasure and pain intermingling when his tongue curled around her bundle of nerves, holding the highly sensitised part of her on the unforgiving, warm cushion of his own flesh before he sucked, the violent waves of ecstasy creeping up on her once more. Her wetness seeped out of her, dripping down the knuckles of his fingers, dirtying her thighs and the sheets below. The sounds he drew from her were utterly obscene, filling the air, which likely reeked of their activities, and he wasn't even close to being done with her. Her thighs trembled under his hold, her upper body thrashing around.

She wished for it to stop, yet she prayed this would never end.

"Aesop...Aesop... Merlin, I – Oh, OH."

"It's alright," Aesop mumbled. "You're doing so good for me. My perfect girl."

Her second orgasm collided with her very soul – violently, fiercely, drowning her in the waves of ecstasy as the world around her shifted into a blinding white, turning her blissfully boneless. Her cries echoed in her hut, bouncing off the walls like sweet singing. Aesop groaned, his being awash with desire as his stiff manhood strained against his breeches – so much that it almost hurt. His fingers moved lazily, a few languid strokes helping her through the aftershocks of her peak, heat consuming her as she lay sapless beneath him. Aesop hastily unbuckled his breeches, pushing them down along with his underpants, letting his sizable erection spring free though his gaze did not wander from her.

His love looked downright sinful.

She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, her chest heaving as the electrifying feeling of her ecstasy continued to tingle through her, the world still spinning – she hardly even realised that Aesop was now naked too. Some hair clung to the nape of her neck, the rest fanned out around her as beads of sweat covered her lithe little body. It was as if she glowed from within – Aesop was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful.

He slowly made his way back up to her, his arms on either side of her body, holding him up and relieving most of the pressure from his leg, though it barely hurt as it stood. His eyes didn't leave hers, though they were still hazy in the afterglow. Aesop's hand lovingly caressed her face, pushing back a stray hair or two, waiting until her eyes found his again. His shaft twitched anxiously, resting between her body and his – warm and soft and waiting.

When she glimpsed at him – her eyes truly finding his – her eyes widened at the sight of him. Aesop hair was dishevelled, the hairline littered with beads of sweat as his dark eyes feasted upon her state. He was the very picture of depravity – his face drenched in her release from his nose to his lips, clinging to his stubble. She blushed fiercely at the view above her, almost averting her gaze had his fingers not caressed her cheeks. For the first time, she could feel the weight of his manhood against her stomach, the naked skin of his large body enveloping hers, but she didn't dare look down. It felt massive, though a large man like Aesop would likely be rather well...endowed. Dread filled her at the thought of him actually entering her, her breath picking up again – unable to hide the nature of her feelings.

Aesop's sweet and gentle caress steered her focus back to him, his smile just as soft.

"I will be as gentle as I can," he promised, his voice low and placating. "It will hurt for a second, and if you need me to stop, you can tell me."

He was so honest, so loving – so gentle and kind; her Aesop – that she could only nod, allowing his lips to fall upon hers as he shifted between her legs. She tried to remember what her mother had told her about the marital act – that she would simply need to endure – but it did little to subdue the tension she felt when she could feel him pressing against her folds. A pitiful whine escaped her lips, and she desperately tried to focus on anything else.

"I've got you," Aesop gentled her, his eyes now looking down between their bodies. He was unable to see much, but his heart thumped erratically at the sight of his manhood, hard and pulsating with need, right at her entrance. It had been a while for him, too; most carnal encounters after Scarborough were merely transactional (if at all), and Aesop wasn't sure if he had ever felt desire and need as intensely as he had at this moment.

"I've got you," he reiterated quietly, frowning a little as he eased the tip of him inside. She gasped for a second before holding her breath altogether, clenching her eyes shut upon feeling pure pressure.

"There you go, my love," he whispered against her ear, curling his large body over hers, trying to hold himself back as he felt the tip of his manhood enveloped by the tight heat of her – entering her with a torturously slow pace.

"I love you. You're doing so well, my love… So well. My good girl."

Light kisses and a gentle caress kept her with her, her contorted face strained as Aesop gently and slowly worked himself into her – he hated that this even needed to be unpleasant in the first place. Another gasp escaped her abruptly, deep and greedy breaths filling her lungs with the parching air surrounding them. Her sweaty chest stuck to his, her erect buds teased by the hair on his chest. The symphony of sensations was wholly overwhelming as she struggled to contain both him and herself.

Pressure. Agony. Desire. Want. Aesop – inside her.

Aesop let himself rest, her womanhood pulsating around him as it struggled to contain what little of his length he had inserted. Her small, near inaudible whimpers tore at his heartstrings – enough to distract his mind off the perfectly mindblowing sensation of feeling enveloped by her, his entire being aching with need as she leaked around him and he around her – easing the tight passage with their bodies aflame and hearts beating as one.

"Breathe, my love," Aesop cooed, his hand caressing the sides of her body in gentle strokes as he tried to ease more of himself inside of her, unable to stop a slight moan from escaping his lips.

"Aaaahh – " she grit out between her teeth, feeling overwhelmingly full. It was too big – feeling like it was tearing her apart at the seams, and she felt utterly pathetic beneath him. However, was she meant to fit that?

"Aesop!"

"Look at me," Aesop whispered, his breath mere inches away from her face. "Come, my love. Look at me. I've got you, okay?"

Whimpering, she opened her eyes, the caramel warmth of Aesop's finding hers as he was brimming with overwhelming love and adoration – enough to bring down an entire army. He gently placed a kiss upon her forehead as his hand moved lower again, resolved to make this pleasurable for her. If it had simply been about his own pleasure, he would have come undone within but a second.

"Try to relax, my love," he gentled, his hand finding her hardened nub again, smirking when she moaned in bliss as he gently put pressure on it, drawing light circles and cajoling more wetness from the depths of her core. She was feverishly warm, enveloping him with a vice grip – soft, warm, dripping the further he went. The arm holding him above her was tense, straining with the effort to keep him upright when she felt so good around him as he moaned himself with the warmth surrounding him. Slowly, gently, he eased more of himself inside, pressing his hips forward as his manhood fought against the tight clenches of her channel. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears – but they did not leave his.

"Ahh – Aesop!"

"That's it, my love. My beautiful girl...I love you," he gentled. "You are doing so well. So very well for me."

"I…I…"

"What is it, my love?" he asked, his hip pressing forward another excruciating inch, their bodies aching for the other as he leaked around her the way she did around him – easing the passage and helping her stretch against him. Her breathing was erratic, her cheeks glaringly red as pleasure and pain intermingled once more. "What do you feel?"

"It..mhm..." A tender moan spilt from her, her womanhood slowly loosening around him. "–sop."

"Yes, my love?" He whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth as he felt her shivering beneath him. He rubbed her clitoris with messy and soft strokes, relishing her low moans as her eyes fluttered shut – this time in pleasure. Aesop could not help the small smile that placed itself upon his lips, for she was breathtaking. Another inch pressed into her, the discomfort returning and a choked little sob spilling from her plush lips – a stray tear spilling from her eye.

"Do you wish for me to stop?" Aesop asked her gently, halting all his movements as he awaited her answer. She did not answer him, though she shook her head furiously from side to side.

"Look at me," he bade her again, his hand cupping her face as he gentled her with a soothing touch. "You do not have to endure if you cannot."

Her teary eyes met his as she gulped before another sharp intake of breath filled her lungs. "I don't want you to stop," she whimpered miserably. "Please just..." she bit her lip, her gaze averting in shame.

"Please, what, my love?" he asked. "You can tell me anything. You need to tell me if you want this."

"What you've been doing with your fingers..." she gulped. "I want…I need…"

"Do you need me to…" he slowly pressed his fingers on her clitoris again – a little more pressure than before – his voice fading as she gasped and arched into him.

"Yes…" she sighed contently, the furrow of her brow decreasing, and her eyes closed again. "A–Ae–Aesop," she shakily moaned, her hips canting upwards to meet his.

His self-control was admirable, the strain on his own body and mind evident by the strain in his arm and his own panting breaths. Her womanhood parted for him, the tight muscle easing as she relaxed into his touch – clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth. His shaft was leaking a trail inside her with each small push forward – she did not believe he could go any further, for it already felt like he was beyond anywhere he should be. Before long, Aesop pushed forward one more time – burying himself with one long and stubborn thrust, reaching all the way inside her.

She wailed and burst into tears at the sensation, Aesop's own head dropping between the valley of her breasts as he groaned deeply at the sheer feeling.

"Aesop!"

"Fuck," he groaned lowly, the hand next to her head gripping the sheets – his hand surely turning white with force. He had stilled inside her, allowing both him and her to adjust to the foreign feeling. Her chest was rising violently, pushing against his as he fully enveloped her beneath him.

"A-Aesop," she whimpered, a twinging pain still lingering in her lower body, her legs sapless on either side of him. "It - ah…hurts."

"I know, my love," Aesop breathed out, his eyes clenched in focus. "You're so – ah...tight."

His hands found her sides again, tracing delicate patterns across her heated skin – all whilst he lingered inside her; unmoving. Slowly, but surely, he felt her settle, her breath evening out and her core loosening. The pain that had pierced her and lingered in her womanhood slowly dwindled away, leaving nothing but a sensation of overwhelming fullness in its wake. His weight upon hers felt strangely comforting, a familiar feeling among the symphony of vast and earth-shattering novelties. Aesop was scalding against her, his broad and heavy and burly body encasing her protectively – shielding her from the world around her, though if she had to describe her world now, there would only be Aesop anyway. She said nothing – much like he did – allowing his panting breath to fan over her bosom as her tears dried. Her fingers, as she now began to realise, had pressed into his sides, leaving red marks on his tough skin.

"Oh," she whispered as she loosened her tight grip.

"Hm?" Aesop mumbled, the vibrations hitting her bosom. "What is it, my love?"

Her voice was trembling and quiet when she answered him – plagued by the shame of what she had done. "I fear I might have hurt you..."

She could feel Aesop's chest rumbling with a low chuckle, the action sparking…something unknown between the folds of her quim before he rose to meet her eyes again, a lopsided smirk on his flushed face.

"My love," he mumbled, a stray hair pushed from her tear-streaked face. "My beautiful, beautiful love...You have cried, certainly not from ecstasy this time, and you worry about me?" Another low chuckle vibrated through them. "Fear not – you haven't hurt me. I have endured far worse."

He watched as she bit her lip, evading his piercing gaze in shame, more tears gathering in her eyes.

"None of that," Aesop chided lovingly, pushing her face to meet his, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "You're doing so well for me," he whispered, eyes closed in bliss as he felt her walls pulsate around him. He embraced her lips in a loving kiss once more, their tongues mingling as he continued to lead her. "How do you feel?"

"Full," she whimpered lowly. "So… ah – full, Aesop."

A deep groan left his lips upon her admission. Call it male pride or call it unnaturally developed self-conceit, but Aesop could not help the blaze of arousal that burst through him at her admittance. He knew he was charitably blessed, more so than most men – not that she had any way of knowing – but his love took him perfectly, doing so well for him – only him.

"Fuck," he rasped out, straining above her as her warm heat continued to envelop him in a vice grip.

She looked entrancing beneath him, eyes shut, with bitten lips – her chest rising against his, body flushed beautifully as it lay against the pillows. And she was all his. Eternally and entirely his.

"You are doing so well," he praised her in a low tone once more, his hands tracing placating patterns on her skin as they descended towards her hips. He could feel her tension under his fingers, her body shivering – so far removed from the ecstatic state she had been in before.

"Do you trust me?" Aesop whispered, almost inaudible.

"Yes." Her voice was squeaky, and she did not open her eyes, but the word spilt from her lips with no hesitation – and that was enough for Aesop.

He firmly took hold of her hips, angling himself above her – rubbing comforting circles into her hips. Gently, he eased a few inches out, her quim clinging to him before he eased himself back inside with the same familiar gentleness. A breathless gasp escaped her, her eyes opening to meet his as he meticulously took in her body's every response, his eyes hazy with desire and wanting – it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a peculiar feeling, entirely recondite but not unpleasant altogether. Each slow thrust which met her allowed his pubic bone to grace her clit with delicious friction, his manhood gradually opening her up with every thrust – battering away any clenching as her womanhood took him. Her arms were wrapped around his torso; fingers pressed into the blades of his shoulders as Aesop rhythmically moved, a little more each and every time.

She watched as his head dropped between his shoulders, a deep groan escaping him as her warmth circled him. Merlin, Aesop could truly not recall ever feeling even close to this – She was so tight for him, so warm, and so delicate beneath him that it took every atom of his being not to rush himself into climax; he felt like a dratted schoolboy again. Thank Merlin, he was adept at concocting Bruisewort Balm as he knew with absolute certainty that his grip on her hips would leave bruises.

His grinding movements gradually turned pleasant – no longer pressurising.

"Aesop," she groaned, her tone entreating. "I – ah…"

"You feel so perfect, my love," he groaned, allowing his face to move downwards so his mouth could envelop one of her hardened peaks once more, his tongue swirling around despairingly, his hair tickling against her heated skin. "– Doing so well for me. Taking me so perfectly."

He could feel her womanhood dampening around him, easing his motions further – a dark chuckle escaped him.

"You like that, my love? Being told that you're my good – ah," Aesop grunted as he ground his pelvis deeper, her lower body pushed into the mattress. "– my good, good, girl? All for me?"

"Yes," she sighed contently, her eyes closing in bliss.

He cooed against her breasts, deep, breathless, his grinding slowly turning into gentle thrusts – still careful not to hurt her. The hands he held on her hips relaxed, one moving lower to angle her hips differently as he moved his own. Each thrust inwards left her closer to being utterly sapless, unable to do anything but take what he gave, his generous length and girth aiming to brush against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to wail out in pleasure.

Aesop's head shot up in astonishment when her womanhood tightened around him violently, her rear and head rising from where she lay as she wailed.

"Aesop! Oh…Oh!"

His length brushed against her spot mercilessly, teasing her deliciously when she was very much sated from the two peaks of ecstasy before – the sensation both aching and sending her closer to delirium.

"There you go," Aesop rasped, his shallow thrusts gaining momentum. "Is that good?" he asked, groaning, teasingly pushing his length to deliberately beat away at that tender spot.

"Yes!" his love cried out beneath him, scarcely believing the sheer pleasure she was suddenly feeling – never having felt such an intense cacophony of feelings aimed at her before. With a growl through clenched teeth, Aesop moved his hands to her breasts, fondling them tenderly as he rose up to look down upon the ethereal form of his beloved. The guttural moan he released when he took in the very picture of sin beneath him shook him to his core, the familiar sensation of his impending peak quelling in his lower region. He had to slow down, fearing he would finish before she did, though he could feel her peak approaching.

She looked like a sacred piece of art – sweaty, moaning, and blissfully boneless, her hair spread out like a halo, cheeks flushed, and eyes closed – his own groans of pleasure hastening her voracity.

"You're doing so well for me," Aesop groaned. "So fucking well. All for me. My beautiful girl."

"Yes!" she chanted affirmatively. "All for you."

His thrusts were slow, tempered - reaching parts of her she never thought anyone would reach. His hips canted against her, pushing her further into the mattress, pressing deep, so very deep, into her, the tip of his manhood pressing against her cervix with the sheer force of his thrusts, her womanhood stretched open. She was utterly vulnerable – her legs shook with the intensity of emotions coursing through her, shaking her to her very soul.

"Fuck," Aesop hissed hotly. "I love you. I love you so much. My good – ah, girl. Doing so well for me. My lovely woman… So warm, so… ah....good."

"Aesop!" she cried out, her grip on his shoulders tightening as the familiar coil of eros bubbled beneath her skin again, the flames of desire licking their way up from her womanhood and spreading through her body mercilessly. "I – oh god. I –"

"I've got you," Aesop rasped reassuringly, his touch a temperate anchor in the endless sea of ardour she was drowning in. She cried out once more, a stray tear spilling from the corner of her eye, which Aesop gently wiped from her cheek before he reached down and pressed a soft kiss into the crown of her hair.

"I've got you," he promised once more with a sweet sigh, "You're ah – doing so well for me. I love you so much. Ah – taking me so well. Fuck – I'm so...so proud of you… It's alright... let go for me."

She felt his soft, groping hand, helplessly desirous touching along her body and face, caressing her softly - oh so softly – with infinite soothing and assurance. It was so much and never enough, the staccato building and building confronting her with the innermost parts of herself. Never had she felt so acutely the agony of her own forlornness, yet embraced in Aesop's arms, she knew she would never feel forlorn again. She was his, and he was hers. She had reached the peak twice before that night, but this was so greatly different that she wondered if she had truly reached it after all. He was turgid and quivering inside her, the strange thrills rippling through her like burning embers – dashing to points of brilliant exquisiteness. She lay near unconscious of the frenzied cries she emitted, unaware of his gaze upon her trembling body as she was consumed entirely. She clung to him in her burning passion, his rhythms flushing up into her, filling her entire, cleaving consciousness until she was nothing but a burning flame.

Aesop nearly came apart at the sight and feeling of her, the sight celestial, but he craved, needed, more.

"Fuck," he groaned. Though his movements slowed, they did not cease altogether, his eyes closing in bliss as his thick manhood scraped against her tender, clenching walls. His thrusts were gentle as he helped her through the throes of her peak, lidded eyes, observing her every tremble. When his love came to, noting his continued movements, her eyes shot open, their hazy gaze blurry.

Stuttering, his name left her lips, the burning molten between her legs never ceasing. "A-A-Aesop."

He continued to rock inside; out. It was a moment of pure peace for Aesop, the entry into the body of her so very pleasurable – his hips meeting hers. Her legs tensed, and her womb clenched, unsure if it was pleasure or pain this time around. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the hut, the room hot and humid amidst their moans and groans and her cries.

"Aesop 's too much," her speech slurred, struggling to keep her eyes on his.

"You are doing so well," he grunted, adjusting the grip he held on her, snapping his hips up violently, his antecedent restraint and control dwindling. His arms circled her, Aesop's body on hers, his wet body touching hers, so close. "You can give me one more."

His thrusts pushed the literal air from her lungs, gasps and moans spilling from her bitten lips – his name sometimes in between like a prayer. Aesop's hands caressed down her sides until he bent forward, lifting her kneed to wrap her leg around his waist, holding it there – the new angle leaving her vulnerably open. Their eyes met one another – hazy with lust and wanting and need and earth-shattering love and devotion simmering below the surface.

"I love you," the young woman sobbed out, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of her, the tip of it pressing against the entry to her womb. Her back arched into him, his scalding chest resting over hers, rough hairs chafing against her tight and tender nipples. She loved him beyond anything - adored him till her knees were weak as she walked and her heart could no longer survive without him. He was her air, her warmth, her very reason for being.

Something gave way, and the potions master above her precipitously, violently, thrust his hips into hers, held up only by his bruising grip as the remains of her lay sapless beneath him. Aesop slid his hands down her body, his callouses leaving goosebumps in their wake as he caressed her soft stomach before his fingers found her erect clit above her entrance. Her wails were the sweetest song Aesop had ever heard, the vicious grip on his shoulders sure to leave imprints for days to come.

"I love you too – fuck," Aesop hissed, allowing himself to close his eyes as he battered away, his movements forceful and erratic. His mind filled with the reason they were engaging in the first place – a vivid image conjured in his mind of her swollen and rounded body.

"You will look so beautiful," he murmured breathlessly. "So stunningly beautiful. Whole with my children – ah, fuck."

Her womanhood clenched, flowing and alive and vulnerable as the image filled her too – helpless with adoration of him and what she wanted him to do – before it opened, ready to be filled with new life all for him – with him.

Both her and his yearning adoration for one another was fearful, leaving them helpless in each other's embrace and so different from what had been their relationship – a new dawn blooming. It was sinking into them as his manhood sunk into her, deep into their being to the centre of all creation. Aesop had not known yearning like this – possibly even feared it his entire life, lest if he adored too much, he would be vulnerable; a slave to his emotions which he certainly had never wished to be. Yet as he moved into her, enveloped tightly and loved, he would no longer fight it. It was so fathomless, so soft, so deep and so unknown – yet he surrendered, just as she had.

"Aesop!" she cried out.

"Your womb will be full with me," Aesop groaned nonsensically. "So filled with life that everyone shall see."

Her hips canted upwards to meet his thrusts, his finger pressing wildly into her bud as ecstasy drew near – for both of them. Her wails of pleasure filled the room around them, his lowly groans swirling between. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, holding him close in her vices, and her womanhood felt perfectly satisfied – the female inside her never more loved and cared for than it had been in this very moment. His phallus was forcing her to take every sensation, and she no longer felt ashamed to want it all.

"Take it," Aesop growled. "Take my seed, and I shall ensure you will be a mother."

"Yes, yes, please, I – " she begged through pleasured sobs, wishing he would finally fill her. The yearning with which she realised the difference between wanting a child and wanting his was discordant, even if it seemed ordinary enough. But to be filled with Aesop's child, and his alone, made her feel like a woman reborn.

One final, forceful thrust before Aesop's lips fell upon hers, his ecstasy intermingling with hers, their souls intertwining as Aesop swelled and swelled, pushing his seed inside her – pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling through them until they were one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, his life springing into her.

They gasped into each other as the waves of pleasure ebbed through them, laying utterly still as they knew nothing but each other and warmth. Carefully, Aesop wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and turned them onto their sides, limbs entangled and his manhood still resting deep inside her, not allowing a single drop of his seed to spill. Their eyes were closed blissfully, her head nestled into his chest with his arms encasing her protectively. It was done – she had chosen him, and he had chosen her, his duty now forever protecting and shielding the woman in his arms, a duty he would fill with all his honour. A duty, which, in due time, would be extended to life growing inside her – a life Aesop was looking forward to protecting with all he had.

"I love you," Aesop mumbled into the crown of her hair. "I love you most ardently. You are an incomparable gift, my love."

He felt her tears before he saw them, undue panic rising in his chest as he bade her to look at him. He held her cheek against his hand, warm and flushed after their proclivities.

"What is it, my love?" he asked in hushed tones. "Have I hurt you?"

"No," she shook her head. "No, you have not I –"

"Then please tell me what –"

"Nothing," she sobbed, a shy smile on her face as she burrowed herself into his hand. "I could have never thought these relations to be so... liberating."

"…liberating?" Aesop asked after a breath of silence. He did not understand.

"Yes," she nodded into his hand, before she smiled up at him. "My mother had told me that...when it happens, I should lie back and think of England. That I would have to endure until my husband had his heir. She did not mention that it could be… that it would be a mere hitch of pain before an endless field of pleasure."

His heart both shattered and thumped upon hearing her admission, his strokes against her back so soft and gentle, barely discernable if her wet and battered body was not as sensitive as it had been.

"You let me bed you thinking it would be something to endure?" he inquired, praying that he had heard – understood – wrong.

"Yes," she replied with no hesitation in her voice. "If it meant that you would father my children – our children – I would have endured a thousand times over. But…this?" Her cheeks glowed in the aftermath, unable to speak of their activities even after what had transpired. "This was nothing to endure."

"And you never have to endure it," Aesop resolutely told her, pressing a chaste kiss upon her lips. "I will not stand for it. This was your choice and yours alone. And should you ever –"

"Shhh," she gently interrupted him with a smile upon her lips. "I do not know what it felt like to you but to me? I do not believe a woman could ever be…happier. Or more loved."

Aesop returned her smile tiredly – relieved and triumphantly proud. "I do not believe a man could ever find more happiness either."

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as his beloved lay in his arms, falling asleep, burrowed safely in his chest away from the world, having chosen him as he had chosen her, he truly could allow himself to dream of forever.

Aesop Sharp now knew that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him, the living proof of it in his strong arms.

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queen-of-the-avengers · 4 months

Text

Iron Man 2: Part One

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Nick Fury sits across from you in the dimly lit room. On the desk in front of you is a file he's been working on since you and Carol parted ways in 1995. He's been waiting patiently for the past ten minutes while you read through it all.

"This is what you were working on after Carol left?" you ask and scan the pages in your hand once more.

"I didn't realize exactly what's out there until you and Carol. I have no idea what we might face, and I think it's about time to bring together exceptional people with extraordinary powers such as yourself," Fury explains.

"What are you trying to put together? Some kind of superhero team?" you chuckle.

"It's good to know what's out there. It's better to be prepared for it."

"You think I'm worthy enough to be in this group?"

"Have you met you? The woman I knew in 1995 would jump at the chance to be on this team."

"I have to admit, you've got some good stuff in here," you sigh and set the file on the table.

"But...?"

"I've seen this kind of thing before. Someone puts together a team of exceptionally gifted people who can do incredible things, but conflict arises and it never works out. Your heart is in the right place, but I don't think your head is. Have you thought this through?"

"More than you think I have. I think with the right motivation, this team can be the greatest thing this world has ever seen."

"I don't know," you bite your lower lip in worry.

"Who survived the Kree not once but twice? Who fought Hydra in World War II? Who helped defeat Stane? Who helped Bruce?"

"Okay, first, Stane was a douchebag in a machine he didn't know how to control. Anyone could have beaten him," you roll your eyes. "Second, Bruce came to me thinking I was a scientist. He heard about me back in 1945, found out how to contact me, and I was there for him. I didn't know what I was signing up for when he went all Hulk on me."

"Think about it, Y/N. This is something that can be truly remarkable with the right people. I already have two agents on board."

"Who?"

"Black Widow and Hawkeye."

You don't know who Hawkeye is but you've heard plenty about the deadly assassin. She's popped up over the years but you've always stayed out of her way in fear she'll start hunting you. Never did you think you'd get to be able to work with her. You take the file from the table and look at Black Widow's section.

Damn, she's gorgeous.

"Is she seeing anyone?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, is she in a relationship?"

"I'm not doing this. Ask her yourself. Take some time and think about it."

He gets up and is about to leave the room when you swivel around to face him.

"How's your eye doing?"

"Don't start," he shakes his head and leaves the room.

Not only do you have this to think about, Tony's speech has been on replay over and over in your mind. You told the world that you were the Avatar while Tony confessed to being Iron Man. The weeks following the press conference have been nothing but chaos as the public made you and Tony celebrities. While you did confess to being able to control the elements, you're not going to tell the world the planet you're truly from. You're not sure they're ready to hear they're not alone in the universe.

Dr. Erskine, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark took it well because they were already working in that area, so it didn't come as a shock to them. Despite being inventors, doctors, and secret government agents, they were scientists. They knew there were other lifeforms out there.

They may have been ready to learn about you, but the rest of the world isn't.

You and Tony have been put in the spotlight, making you two out to be idols. People love the Avatar and Iron Man and often want you two to be out together in public. With his newfound sense of fame, he decided to reopen the Stark Exposition where he showcases all the things he's invented while encouraging people to show off their inventions.

If you know Tony, and you do, he's gonna want to make a grand entrance into his Stark Exposition. He's going to use the suit to fly into the arena with you by his side. To do that, you have to get high, which is why you two are on a small plane to take you to that height.

"I never got the chance to tell you how risky of a move it was to reveal yourself like that," you say to him while you're waiting.

"It's bound to come out sooner or later," Tony shrugs.

"They're going to start asking questions."

"They were already doing it before."

"Life is going to be different for us."

"Eh, what else is new?" he chuckles.

The plane flies higher, and you and Tony get ready to jump out of it.

"So, how are you and Pepper doing? Have you kissed her yet?"

"Don't start."

"What? Come on, you two almost kissed. There's some sort of feelings there, no?"

"I don't know," Tony sighs. "Do I really want to involve her in my life?"

"You need someone like her to keep you grounded. She's been with you for ten years and has done more than what you've asked her to do. She likes you, Tony and I know you like her, too. Tell me, imagine if she wasn't in your life. How would that make you feel?" Tony can't answer because he knows the answer. He knows he'd be devastated. "Exactly my point."

"Two hundred and seventy at thirty knots. Holding steady at fifteen thousand feet. You are clear for exfiltration over the drop zone," the pilot informs.

"Time for show business."

The launch door on the bottom of the airplane opens, and Tony doesn't hesitate to jump out of it. You jump off the landing strip and follow him as he zips through the air at a fast pace. The wind whips through your hair, the breeze is nice against your skin, and you're having fun just flying wherever you please to go.

Tony takes the lead to the Stark Expo, and he lands on the stage with a loud thump. You're more delicate with your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself next to Tony until your feet are planted on the ground.

Tony has to make this event as grand as it can be which means there are fireworks, a very bright light show, dancing girls dressed like Iron Man, and a raging crowd to greet him. Sure, you told everyone you're the Avatar, but they're more interested in the billionaire. Not that you're complaining, you're content with being in the background.

You take a few steps back to let the machines underneath the stage remove Tony's suit for him. The platform he's on is slowly spinning as robotic arms are dismantling his suit. The showgirls continue to dance in the background until the song that's playing is over. They do some big dance number that you couldn't possibly follow, and they leave once their parts are over with.

The lights dim to focus on you and Tony.

"Tony! Tony! Tony! Tony!" the majority of the crowd yells.

Your name is being scattered throughout the crowd, but it's mostly for Tony.

"It's good to be back. You missed me?" he chuckles.

"Blow something up!" a man in the crowd screams.

"Blow something up? I already did that," he dismisses him until the crowd dies down. "I'm not saying that the world is enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years because of us. I'm not saying that from the ashes of captivity, never has a greater phoenix metaphor been personified in human history. I'm not saying that Uncle Sam can kick back on a lawn chair, sipping on an iced tea because I haven't come across anyone who's man enough to go toe-to-toe with us on our best day!"

"It's actually not about us," you chime in. "It's not about you. It's about legacy. It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations. That's why, for the next year, and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women of nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources and share their collective vision to leave behind a brighter future."

"She's absolutely right. Therefore, what we're saying, if we're saying anything, is welcome back to the Stark Expo," Tony smiles and the crowd goes wild. "Now, making a special guest appearance from the great beyond to tell you what it's all about, please welcome my father, Howard."

You and Tony leave the stage as the video of Howard starts to play.

"He looks so young there," you comment after your microphones have been turned off.

"What, you didn't know him like this?"

"I knew him when he was in his twenties. He was bright for his age. He loved inventing."

"Yeah, even more than his own son," Tony scoffs.

"He loved you so much, Tony. Even before you were even an idea. He talked about having children with so much love and admiration. He was a good man. He helped me and Steve become who we are."

"It's nice to know you have fond memories of him," he nods passive-aggressively.

It's clear he doesn't like to talk about his dad a lot, and you don't really understand why. While you were off-planet, he was here building his family. You weren't fortunate in seeing Howard as a parent since you met Tony only a couple of years before his parents died. Tony never liked how Howard parented, but you have a feeling he refuses to see why Howard did what he did.

"I'm sure if he were here, he'd be so proud of you."

Tony doesn't respond to that. He turns away from the screen and pulls out a device that measures his blood toxicity levels. The palladium in the arc reactor is slowly killing him, so he has to check how toxic his blood is every hour. You're working on a cure, but there isn't an acceptable replacement for palladium. The continued use of the Iron Man suit is killing him, and it's very hard to make him see the seriousness of the situation.

Only you know about this because he refuses to tell anyone what's actually happening. He doesn't want anyone to worry about what's going on with him even though they deserve to know. Pepper deserves to know. Even with your vast knowledge of powers and serums, you don't know how you'll be able to fix this one.

If Tony is good at anything, then it's how he throws after-parties once the main one dies down. As soon as the Expo is over, everyone huddles around the front of the building to meet you and Tony. Happy stands in front of you two to carve a path back to the car. Tony stops to sign autographs and take pictures with devoted fans while you keep your head down. You hated your picture being taken in the 1940s and you hate it being taken now.

Pictures are proof you were here.

Happy escorts you to Tony's brand new convertible car while the building's security prevents people from crowding you at the car.

"Very mellow," Tony comments.

"I thought it was going to be worse."

A slim, young woman walks to the car with two men behind her just as you get in the backseat of the car.

"Hi, and you are?" Tony asks as he slides into the front seat.

"Marshal. Pleased to meet you Tony and Y/N."

"I'm sorry, what are you doing here?" you ask.

"Looking for you two," she grins, "and serving subpoenas."

She hands him a piece of paper and he visibly gulps. He hates being handed things, which you never understood.

"Yikes," he mutters.

"He doesn't like to be handed things. I'll take it," you smile and take the letter she offers.

"Yeah, I have a peeve," Tony nods.

"I got it. You two are hereby ordered to appear before the Senate Armed Services Committee tomorrow morning at nine a.m."

"Can I see a badge?"

"You wanna see the badge?" she grins.

"We'll be there," you interrupt her meaningless flirting. "How far are we from D.C.?"

"Two hundred and fifty miles," Happy answers.

"We'll be there. Thank you."

Tony turns the car on and takes off toward the highway. It's night right now, but it will be morning by the time you get to D.C.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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onegianthotmess · 2 months

Text

Okay, I’ve seen posts of the reader getting jealous of the suitors’ wives if they came back, but now I’m just imagining it happening to Jane.

Like, she and Theo got engaged a little while ago and then BAM!; Theo’s wife when he was human, Johanna van Gogh-Bonger, has been resurrected as a vampire and is staying with Comte for a little while and ends up inevitably crossing paths with her former husband. And Jane is both fascinated and confused at this situation.

She didn’t know anything about Theo’s life when he was human apart from what he’d told her, and Vincent never said anything because they weren’t his stories to tell Jane. But, seeing Theo and Johanna interact after so long, very easily picking up conversations and such, Jane had to go to Sebastian to ask what history said about Theo’s relationship with Johanna.

And was Jane in for it then.

Sebastian told her that Theo was practically enamored with Johanna, wanting to marry her very soon after they met and trying to propose even after being rejected a few times. They even had a son that Theo named after his beloved brother who was only a year old when he’d died. In short, Theo very quickly fell in love with Johanna and got married to her after a few years and a few rejections, even having a son a year before he died.

And Jane felt an old feeling of paranoia and insecurity make its way back into her. When she was human, Jane had felt this way during her time with Henry due to him having a reputation for having a wandering eye. She didn’t want this feeling to come back with Theo just talking to his previous wife.

She just decided to let Theo be with Johanna and focus on other things, to the point of near avoiding him, if unintentionally. In the two weeks she’d managed to avoid Theo, Jane had reorganized the library five times, knitted three scarves, learned how to make a new dessert, walked King by herself, read four books, and planted six new types of flowers in the garden with help from Sebastian.

Theo’s been trying to talk to her, but some polite excuse and a sweet smile make it impossible for him to get more than two and a half sentences in with his fiancée. And Jane finds it harder and harder to not cry every time she sees Theo or Johanna or even when she hears their names. She just can’t help but think that Johanna coming back is a sign that she shouldn’t marry Theo and just let him be with the woman he loved first. They even had a son together, for god’s sake! It wouldn’t be right if she went up and married Theo after he and Johanna finally saw each other again and got the chance to tie up loose ends.

One night, Jane finds herself looking at the engagement ring in her finger that Theo had given her and she contemplates returning it to him so he can be with Johanna again. He was enamored with her almost instantly while human, there was no doubt he was going to become enamored with her once more now that both he and her were resurrected. It would make the most sense to return the ring so Theo could trade it for a different one for Johanna if he wanted to.

It wouldn’t be that hard, anyway. Jane knew she wasn’t very special in any way, shape, or form. She’d only been recognized in her human life for her ability to give her former husband a male heir and because she was decently attractive. She didn’t have any special skills, she even had to relearn her mother tongue and learn a new language just to live comfortably in her new life as a vampire. No, Jane was just a woman that came a dime a dozen and many women had her qualities and even more added to that.

And Jane was just Jane. There was nothing extraordinary about her, nothing too special or memorable. Why would Theo even want to marry her in the first place when she was so plain?

She starts thinking it was a good thing Johanna came back to life and reunited with Theo. It helped Jane to become disillusioned that she was good enough for a man who’d done many great things and had great skills in his field of work.

Jane began to question why Comte had even resurrected her. She wasn’t special in any way, the only reason for her being a historical figure was that she was the third wife of Henry VIII and was the one who gave him his male heir. Why would she belong in a house full of great figures who have done great things to influence history? All she did was get married, get pregnant, give birth, and die.

All of these thoughts take up space in her mind and she ends up isolating herself from everyone for another two weeks, only taking small servings of Blanc and Rouge for her meals and staying in her room, doing things like sewing and reading while also taking care of her beloved bird, Enid.

Eventually, Vincent decides to pay her a visit because he’s been worried about her for the past month she’s been isolating herself. When Jane opens the door, Vincent gets even more worried. She looks tired and her eyes are a tiny bit red, her voice is a tiny bit hoarse when she smiles and softly tells Vincent to come in and apologizes for the mess in her room.

And things lead to Vincent asking Jane how she is when he finally notices her engagement ring is off.

And Jane merely gives a shaky smile and hands Vincent something she’d had clasped in her hands in her lap. It was her engagement ring. Jane says that Theo could have the ring back and give it to Johanna or do whatever he wished with it.

And it takes Vincent asking why Jane gave him the ring for Jane to break down and start bawling her eyes out. Vincent immediately pulls Jane in for an embrace and just lets her cry into him. It takes five minutes of Jane crying for her to calm down and be able to form proper sentences and coherent thoughts in her mind.

And then she tells Vincent everything.

She tells him about not wanting to be controlling over Theo, about how she feels like it’s better that Johanna came back so that she and Theo could tie up loose ends and possibly resume what they had before Theo died, about how she doesn’t feel like she’s anything to look at or be concerned about considering she can’t really do anything special or extraordinary, about how she shouldn’t marry Theo because he’s finally reunited with Johanna, and about how she shouldn’t even be in the mansion anyway because she can’t do anything or bring anything valuable to the household. And this confession breaks Vincent’s pure little heart.

Because he loves that Jane was able to make his brother happy again and that she was going to marry him. Jane was going to make Theo incredibly happy and be his little sister. Vincent was so happy for his brother and now he doesn’t know what to do.

Jane didn’t feel adequate enough to even be in the same room as Theo now and Vincent didn’t know how to make her feel any better. She even gave him her engagement ring to return to Theo!

But, Vincent knew that he couldn’t get through to Jane. Her being isolated left her alone with those awful thoughts in her head that convinced her of what she was doing right now. So, Vincent said he’d talk to Theo for Jane and he pat her on the head as he got up to try and help ease her. And as Vincent smiled at Jane, she couldn’t help but feel at ease, so much so that she was able to fall asleep for the first time in days.

And as Jane fell asleep with all of her awful thoughts, Vincent left down the hall to Theo, Jane’s engagement ring in hand, and to explain to his brother what was going on and hopefully help Jane out of the horrible mental mess she was in.

#why do these angst rants turn into almost full on fics???#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp jane

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aperrywilliams · 2 years

Text

Lost and Gain... and Lost Again? (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Reader and Spencer’s bond strengthens after the team receives devastating news. But what happens when that bond becomes an agreement that ends up confusing them more?

Word Count: 10k (Ouch!)

Warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW. 18+ ONLY. Reference to a character’s death; crying, feelings of regret; mention of nightmares and ideas about drug use (doesn’t happen); mention of wounds and blood (superficial); strong language; penetrative and unprotected sex; oral sex (f and m receiving); fingering; rough sex with chocking; crying after sex; oral and penetrative sex in a public place; voyeurism (from a third person); size kink; gagging. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I wrote this one for Smurph’s Birthday Challenge. Happy birthday, my friend!!!! (a bit late, I’m sorry). If you haven’t read a @smurphyse fic yet, I recommend you do! You’ll find a great writer (Room 405 has the top 1 of my heart). On top of that, one of the best human beings I have had the honor to know. For the challenge, I used the prompt “Get on your knees and show me.” (Category 2); and Choking, Deepthroating, Public sex; Voyeurism; Size Kink (Category 3). Thanks for reading, and keep sending me requests!

Do you want to be added to the taglist? Go HERE

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Reader’s POV.

Emily Prentiss is an extraordinary woman. Smart, determined, brave, tough, compassionate, and the best friend you could ask for. But when she faked her death and disappeared for seven months, it started a series of events that hit my life forever.

‘Devastation’ falls short of describing our emotions after getting the news. The team crumbled. Nobody could believe what had happened. Not to our Emily.

I remember being in my apartment crying for days. I barely made it to Emily’s funeral. I was a complete mess.

Hotch granted us time to process, but we didn’t think it would be enough to overcome our loss.

I knew the other team members were grieving Emily’s death too, but I felt it harder. Maybe it was because I had known Emily for eight years back then. We worked together before she joined the BAU.

Two years after she settled there, a suggestion from her to Hotch gave me the chance to join the team. Once me there, we got inseparable.

So you can guess how hard it was to assimilate that you would never see your friend again.

Morgan and Spencer weren’t okay either. Derek leaned on Garcia for support, showing his anger whenever he could. Spencer leaned on JJ in a more reserved way, although he thought JJ couldn’t fully comprehend his pain.

He told me about this feeling when he knocked on my door one night.

“Spencer?” I looked at him, puzzled. It was near midnight.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I came here like this all of a sudden. I - I thought that -” he trailed off. His hands were shaking, eyes glassed, dark circles under them, and he looked pale. I knew that face. I saw this in myself plenty of times in the last weeks. Nightmares.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Come in.” I pulled him inside the apartment and led him to sit on my couch.

That night we talked until the sun rose. We talked about everything and nothing. He told me about the nightmares, the headaches, and the cravings. I knew about what happened after Hankel. But never did someone tell me the details, and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.

We never were that close before, but I guess circumstances did the job. Grieving the loss of our friend, we realized that we were struggling in a similar way. So why not lean on each other?

That way, nights like that kept happening in the following weeks. Some days at my place, others in his.

Sometimes we just sat to talk. Other times we watched a movie to turn off our thoughts. We could even sit on the couch without talking and staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence.

Gradually the pain gave us a truce, and the company became nice by itself.

I never thought of Spencer as a close friend, at least not in a sense Emily was, but the time we spent together gave us a chance to get to know each other better. I was pleasantly surprised that we had more in common than I had imagined.

We hung out a lot, and we liked it. But there was something more there that I couldn’t explain. Yeah, we could talk, cry, and laugh, but why did it feel like something was missing?

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was until one particular night.

After a messy unsub takedown, Spencer got some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t let the paramedics check on him.

On the flight home, I saw Spencer hiss every time he brushed some spot on his left side.

Spencer-fucking-stubborn-Reid.

When we landed in Virginia, I persuaded him to have dinner and a movie at my place. Secretly I was worried that he would go home without anyone checking on his injuries.

As we put a foot in my apartment, I required him to sit on my couch while I went to get my first aid kit.

“Okay, now let me see those cuts,” I said, inspecting his face as my hand clutched a gauze dipped in alcohol.

“You are being dramatic,” he pointed.

“Oh yeah? Well, prove me wrong then,” I challenged, cleaning one of the cuts on his forehead with the gauze. Spencer hissed at the contact.

“Who’s the dramatic here,” I teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes, knowing I could be as stubborn as he.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Once I finished wiping his face, I took another piece of gauze.

“Okay, now let me see your left side.”

“What? Why?”

“I saw how you sizzled whenever you rubbed your left side, Reid. Don’t argue with me.” I instructed. I could see his cheeks turning pink.

With hesitation, Spencer unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it from his shoulders.

My eyes immediately focused on the scratches on his torso and the dark bruise on his ribs.

“Holy shit Reid. That must hurt,” I said, using the gauze to give attention to his skin.

Then is when I felt it.

A change in the air. It became thick and difficult to ignore. I met Spencer’s eyes, and there was an intensity in them I didn’t see before.

Honestly, I never noticed how beautiful Spencer’s eyes were and how desirable he looked, licking his lips as he watched me methodically sweep the dried blood off his wounds.

Feeling the nearness between us ignited in me a spark I didn’t know was there. When did Spencer’s lips start to look so kissable?

I tried to put that thought in the back of my brain, but touching his skin - even indirectly through a gauze - made it almost impossible.

Chastising myself, I did my best to concentrate on whatever could move me away from my salacious thoughts about my coworker and friend.

‘A Friend. A Friend. A Friend.’ I repeatedly told myself as I finished bandaging the cuts I had just cleaned up.

Little did it help that he was looking at me with those doe eyes.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

I wanted to fuck him so bad.

I could feel the warmth in a specific spot on my body. My cheeks tinted in dark crimson when I realized what was happening to me.

“Are you o-?” Spencer tried to ask, but before he could finish the question, I silenced him with my lips on his.

I felt Spencer frozen in his spot as I kissed him. Surely he wasn’t expecting that. Neither do I, but I couldn’t help it.

When the senses returned to me, I pulled away.

Shit, I had fucked it up.

Stuttering, I tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry. This was so inappropriate. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I mumbled, scooting back on the couch and entirely baffled.

Spencer seemed surprised. But something in his eyes told me that he wasn’t upset, quite the opposite. The confirmation came from the very Spencer. Not saying a word, he cupped my cheeks and leaned to kiss me this time.

It didn’t take me long until I let loose and kissed him back.

Quickly our lips started to move frenziedly—all tongues and teeth. The kiss turned heated fast, and our hands began to wander. Just running my fingertips on his bare chest sent shivers down my spine.

Without a second thought, clothes flew from our bodies to land somewhere on my living room floor. I was on Spencer’s lap only minutes later, grinding over his massive erection.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands gripped my hips as he bucked up his to increase the friction between us.

Desperately I grabbed his dick to pump it a few times before aligning it to my entrance.

I looked at him, and his full-dilated pupils told me everything I needed to know. He wanted this as much as I did.

Feeling him stretching me was like heaven.

He was big, and his girth perfect enough to have me trembling around him in no time.

That night we fucked on my couch once and two more times in my bed.

I didn’t know if my lack of sexual activity at that time had to do with it, but those were the best orgasms I had had in a long time.

Panting and looking at the ceiling, we agreed not to do it again. It would be weird, and we didn’t want to feel that way at work.

But it happened again. And again. And again.

Some people say that when you get the ‘taste,’ there is no return. If I stick to that, Spencer Reid turned out to be my favorite drug those days.

And I had the feeling I had become the same thing to him.

We settled a new agreement: the typical friends with benefits. How cliche is that? It didn’t really matter to me at the time; we needed the release, the sex, and neither he nor I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. Let alone when it all started as animalistic sex.

Fantastic, marvelous, extraordinary, necessary animalistic sex.

Thanks to Spencer Reid, I got laid considerably more times in three months than in the past years.

Not that I would complain about it, quite the opposite.

The rules - because, of course, we settled rules - were not to tell anyone, keep it as only sex, not stay the night, and not jeopardize our friendship. If any of us suspected this arrangement could put our friendship in danger, we would call it to quit with no resentment.

It seemed pretty easy.

Having clear rules, we used every chance we got to fuck. His place, my place, sneaking to our hotel rooms during cases. Even at work, we had our favorite abandoned office in the basement.

I found out a lot of things during these months. For example, I didn’t know I could be that horny all the time. Okay, thinking better of it, scratch that.

I did know I could be that horny, but kind of I forgot how it felt until then.

What I truthfully didn’t know was that Spencer could be that horny and touch-starved all the time.

You would say the boy genius that doesn’t shake hands avoids any kind of touch. Wrong. He loves it. Spencer adores cuddling after sex. He likes me playing with his hair and drawing soft patterns on his skin with my fingertips.

Could you believe that Spencer Reid is a boob man? I do now. Sometimes, he lays his head on my chest and hums comfortably between my breasts. I’m pretty sure he would do it if he could always use my boobs as pillows.

But all those displays of affection - or lust, if you want to call it - were only reserved for the bedroom. As soon as we left bed, we returned to our traditional roles as friends and coworkers.

It was working for us. And nobody had to know.

After Emily ‘died.’ Hotch thought we could be fine without another agent, but Strauss had another opinion. That’s why Alice Brown joined the BAU. Strauss herself brought her directly to the team.

As you can guess, we weren’t very enthusiastic about the decision, but the poor girl hadn’t any fault. Young and inexperienced, Alice came to a team with a fractured heart.

The first one who showed friendly with Alice was JJ, who took her under her wing.

Brown did her best to fit into the team. Not much time passed until Morgan and Penelope warmed up with her. Rossi acted like her loving father and Hotch like an understanding boss.

Spencer, the gentleman he is, was way far nice to her. He usually talked to her about books and facts about our cases and the BAU history.

That’s how Alice seemed welcomed after a couple of weeks.

But with me, things didn’t come easy. I knew the poor girl wasn’t trying to replace Emily. I truly understood that, but for me, something about her didn’t fit. I never was deliberately harsh or not polite to her, but we didn’t get that groove she had with the rest of the team.

I thought it was a matter of time.

But maybe I was wrong.

With Hotch away for months, JJ moving to another division, and Rossi barely present, the job weight laid on the remained team members: Morgan, Garcia, Reid, Brown, and I.

Only four agents in the field made things a little bit rough. Rough enough for me to be irritable very often. The bad thing was that my sour mood tended to land on Alice most of the time.

“Why do you go so hard on her?” Morgan chastised me once Alice ran from the conference room crying after I said something a bit sharp.

“I don’t go hard on her. It’s just she should be in tune by now,” I explained.

“Pretty girl, you already forgot when you joined the team?”

“No, Morgan. Don’t play the sentimental card with me. It’s not going to work,” I warned him. Morgan only shook his head.

“I’m just saying you should be more understanding. That’s all.”

Yeah. Maybe Derek was right.

That’s why I gathered the courage to talk to her and apologize. But when I reached Hotch’s office, where I knew she was, I saw Spencer hugging Alice.

The girl was fully crying with her head buried in Spencer’s chest.

I halted in my tracks. Spencer noticed my presence and gave me a disapproving look.

What? Now everyone blames me?

Huffing, I left the room without saying a word.

I didn’t know what was more upsetting: that people accused me of being a bitch with Alice or that she played the victim role. Because that’s what she was doing. She was in Spencer’s arms, looking for comfort, and the bastard provided it with no question.

How does SHE dare? How does HE dare?

That last thought made my heart stop for a second.

Why was I so apprehensive? Was it because of her nearest to Spencer? No. It couldn’t be.

Spencer was only my friend and my fuck-buddy.

And maybe that was the problem. I didn’t want Alice to steal my friend AND my benefits.

“It’s not - fuck!- it’s not I dislike her,” I managed to say to the man with his head between my legs.

“Yu-shul-be-nice-tho,” Spencer mumbled from his spot as he lapped my clit with his glorious tongue and used his slender fingers to pump them in and out of my pussy.

“I am - Oh my God! - I’m nice to her, really - Spencer! Please! Right there!” I whined.

“No. Yu-not,” Spencer rebutted, muffling his words in my core. Feeling my heavy breathing, he sped his fingers’ movement and sucked on my clit hard. Fuck, I was so close.

“Okay! I’m not, but- would you - fuck! - can we stop talking about our coworker? I’m trying to have an orgasm here!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her...”

Hotch’s words reverberated in my head as we were in the conference room discussing what to do about Declan’s kidnapping.

‘Stabilize her’? I was still trying to make sense of those words when I saw a ghost at the entrance.

Emily-fucking-Prentiss was alive.

It wasn’t my imagination. I pinched myself to be sure. I locked eyes with Spencer and Morgan, looking for confirmation.

Of the three of us, I was the nearest to faint.

The lack of oxygen made me feel dizzy.

Why didn’t JJ seem surprised? Why Rossi hadn’t the same shocked expression we had?

A lot of those questions were kept on standby as we focused on getting back Declan.

Emily was cautious and didn’t approach anyone just yet.

I worked on autopilot most of the time. I barely spoke a thing in the twenty-four hours the case was open.

After finishing Doyle’s ordeal that night, we returned to the BAU. Emily tried to talk to me, but I ditched her attempt by sneaking into the kitchenette.

I was pouring coffee on my mug for the umpteenth time that day and so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Spencer standing on the threshold.

He cleared his throat but kept silent as he decided what to say.

I spared him the trouble.

“You don’t need to say anything, you know. There are no words to make sense of this.”

Spencer sighed.

“Eventually, we should,” he pointed.

I met his eyes so that he could see the bitterness in my gaze.

“Should we? I was prepared to miss her forever,” I confessed, sensing tears pricking my eyes.

“I guess I was prepared to do that too.”

Spencer didn’t look better than me. His eyes were as glassy as mine. His lips were tightly pressed like he was holding back.

Truth be told, both were holding back emotions.

That’s why when I asked him to help me to unravel, he was quickly in the same boat as me.

That night we fucked harder than we had been doing in the past five months.

We were angry; we felt betrayed, and this was the way we thought could help us to navigate those emotions.

I needed to lose control. I needed to stop thinking, so I gave him the reign of my body and, maybe, something else.

Spencer understood what I was looking for and didn’t waste time. He gave me what I craved.

Dark hickies and bite marks on my skin would prove that the next morning.

“Please, harder!” I begged, clasping his wrist as he put more pressure on my throat. Spencer’s kept his rough thrusts, grunting each time his hips snapped to mine.

“You want me to let you dumb, uh? So fucking needy,” he panted, his pace not faltering.

“Yes! Make me dumb! Use me!” I cried out, feeling the air leaving my lungs. The dizziness was welcoming as I allowed the tears to run free—a mix between the pleasure and the past hours’ pent-up emotions.

I didn’t need any other stimulation to trip over the edge for the third time that night. After a wild scream, I let myself go, clenching my walls and sending Spencer to his own end.

Collapsing on top of me, Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck as we tried to catch our breath.

But my body started to shake, and sobs left my lips. That alerted Spencer, who immediately pulled out and leaned back to inspect my face.

His concerned hazel eyes met mine. I could see the panic in him.

“Did I hurt you? Was it too rough? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he trailed off. I shook my head, resting my palm on his cheek.

“No. No, Spencer. You did nothing wrong. It was amazing, actually. It’s me. It’s just- I don’t know what-” I couldn’t end the sentence because of the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” he mumbled, engulfing me in a tight embrace. It didn’t matter we both were naked and spent; I needed his solace, and he didn’t hesitate to supply it.

Kissing the top of my head and tracing delicate patterns on my back, he took his time to whisper sweet nothings until I calmed down.

It’s weird, but this was the first time I showed myself so vulnerable to him, and it scared the shit out of me.

We leaned on each other when Emily died, but this was different.

Our relationship was different now; even if I didn’t want to admit it, Spencer became an essential part of my life. As a friend. As a confidant. As the man who has seen beyond my defenses and knows me in the most intimate way.

When I regained some composure, Spencer put his boxers on and helped me to reach the bathroom. Then he went to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water and a snack. Once I was dressed in my pajamas and under the covers, he looked at me to ensure I was okay.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, sipping the water.

“You are welcome. Uh- well, I think I should go now? You need to sleep,” he said, hunching to grab his clothes scattered on the floor.

I couldn’t conceal my disappointment, although it was a reasonable thing to do. Our agreement worked like that: Don’t stay the night.

But I wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Maybe I didn’t want him to go ever again.

That last admission wasn’t clear to me at that moment, though.

“Spencer? Would you stay tonight, please?” I asked, my voice small as if I was begging for something forbidden. In some way, it was.

He halted his doing to look at me. I cleared my throat.

“I know it’s not what we agreed on, but I don’t feel I could stay alone now. I’m sorry if-” I stuttered.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain to me. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay,” Spencer offered.

“Thank you.”

Spencer joined me on the bed, wrapping us with the sheets and comforter and switching the lights off.

I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and arm over his naked torso.

Waking up the following day, the first thing I noticed was the grip of a strong arm around my waist and a soft fan of breath on my shoulder. A warm sensation filled my senses.

Not wanting to wake him up, I slowly turned in bed to find Spencer asleep. He stirred a little but did not wake up. Soft snores escaped his lips. He looked so beautiful sleeping. By far the most attractive man I have ever met.

My stomach clenched as I analyzed the potential consequences of my thoughts.

What was this feeling? Of course, there was infinite gratitude for the best friend I could have found. But a friend who also became your sexual partner? Someone with whom you have been able to experiment, and is willing to please you, just as you would do anything for him to please him?

This was moving to another level.

I was falling in love with Spencer Reid.

Neither Spencer nor I mentioned the morning we woke up together in the days that followed. I assume it was just a one-time thing, and I thought Spencer considered it the same way.

As the cases kept coming, we had no chance to chat about that. So we let it slide.

But I couldn’t get out of my mind the idea there was something more. Was it just me imagining things?

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

Spencer’s POV.

It was the perfect arrangement until it wasn’t.

I must have known that it could happen. I’m not that experienced in that field.

I only kissed a few people in my life.

I had sex just a few times before her.

And non just a few months passed until I broke the rules. At least one of them: no mixed feelings.

We were friends, and we fucked.

That was all.

In theory.

The rule was clear: if we saw this could put in danger our friendship, sex had to end.

But this was more than that for me. And it had been that way for months, yet I didn’t dare to call it to quit.

Having her by my side is the best thing that happened to me. I didn’t know I could fall so deep for someone, but she made it easy.

After the long talks and hanging out a lot, it wasn’t difficult to notice our connection.

But that was a friendship means. Or that is what I thought until we had sex.

God, it was amazing. I didn’t feel like that with anyone before.

What did she do to me?

I thought I had it under control, but I lost the last ounce of self-defense the night he asked me to stay.

How couldn’t I? She was vulnerable and needed someone. A friend. Me.

Watching her in my arms sent me into a spiral of overthinking. I wanted this for the rest of my life, but I would never have the nerve to confess that to her. That would mean I’ll lose her forever.

She didn’t feel the same way I did. Why should I bother then?

Sure, we were attracted, but keeping it physical was the agreement. No other feelings should have been involved.

I screw it up. What do I do now?

It became worse when she started to act a bit cold around me. I mean, not the same friend affection we used to have daily.

God, I was losing her as a friend too, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Two options came to my mind: play it cool or finish the friend with benefits bullshit. I needed to decide something, but I delayed it. Like if things could resolve themselves magically.

She knew something was happening yet didn’t say anything. Instead, she tried to keep it casual.

“What are you doing?” I complained when one afternoon, she dragged me to an abandoned office.

“Hey, relax. I only want a moment alone with you, okay?”

“Somebody could see us!” I scolded. Honestly, it wasn’t an issue in the past five or six months, so why would it be now?

“Don’t be paranoid, Spencer. We are in our usual abandoned office. Nobody walks here. You know that” she reassured me, kissing my jaw, but I was still tense, with my hands to the sides. Hands that, in another time, would be pulling up her skirt to squeeze her delicious ass.

She wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss my lips hungrily. I couldn’t help but gasp, kissing her back and gripping her hips. I was almost lost in the feeling and about to give in until my senses returned.

I rapidly used the grip on her hips to pull her away.

“I think we should come back.”

She frowned and parted entirely from me. I could see the anger rushing in her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She spat.

Well, I couldn’t tell her truly what was wrong with me, so I tried to play ignorant.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Her voice sounded annoyed and something else that I couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not.”

A lie, of course. Excellent, Spencer Reid.

“Yes, you are. We haven’t fuck in two weeks. You tell me what our statistics are. A week at most?”

I knew that: six days and twenty-one hours. I opted for a nonspecific answer, though.

“Sort of. I guess.”

“Why then? Don’t tell me it’s because of work or anything like that. You know we managed before.”

She was trapping me. Every remark she made was pushing me to tell her the truth. I wasn’t ready for her to know, though.

Maybe I will never be. I needed to escape from there.

“We should end this,” I blurted out.

She frowned again. “End what?”

“This arrangement. It’s not working.”

I saw her demeanor change. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but my first guess? Hurt. That broke my heart.

“Why? You... You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” She asked. Her voice was small. Why could she think I didn’t want to be her friend anymore? Not in a million years. I would like to be more than that, but I knew it was impossible.

“No! No that! I’m talking about the benefits thing. I - I think we should end that,” I hastened to explain. I prayed she could agree with me without any question. Too much to ask?

She kept silent for a couple of seconds, contemplating her answer. I knew this would happen. I knew that doing this would mess up everything between us. And the people assume I’m a genius. Waste of genius I am.

“So it’s true you found someone else. You want to fuck someone else.”

‘No! I want only to fuck you!’ I wanted to scream, but instead, I repeated myself: ‘Calm down, Spencer. Calm down. Stay focused’.

“I’m trying to keep our friendship, that’s all.”

“So you can fuck someone else. I get it,” she insisted. Why was that so important? I mean, she could have any man in the world to feed that need. I’m not that special.

“It’s not - I mean, not that I - “ I tried to explain, but she cut me off, putting a hand over my shoulder.

“Spencer, it’s okay. I know. She is pretty and a smart girl. Not to mention she’s head over heels for you.”

Now I was confused. Who the hell was she talking about?

“What? You - she, who?”

“Alice. You are talking about Alice. I know.”

Alice? Our colleague Alice? Does she think I want to fuck Alice Brown?

“I’m not thinking-” I stuttered.

She sighed.

“Spencer. I’m so sorry for my outburst. We knew this would happen eventually. One of us would find someone and want to be in a relationship. You have the right to get that,” she said, shedding some tears. I was so confused that I couldn’t determine the real reason for her tears. Was it because she was happy for me? Or because she didn’t feel she deserved the same? Damn, why am I so incompetent at interpreting this kind of thing? Either way, she was giving me a friendly outing. Wasn’t that my initial purpose?

“Thanks,” I mumbled. (Y/N) gave me a tiny smile and kissed my cheek.

“She is lucky, you know? But if she hurt you, I’m going to kill her,” she sentenced before leaving the office.

I would like to say that after that conversation, I was more relieved. I would like to say that it was the best decision I have made in a long time. But I would be lying.

Yeah, we’re still friends, but things were weird between us, though. She avoided me more often, and our conversations were more superfluous than before.

It didn’t help that Alice was always around because when she saw Alice, she definitely stopped talking to me or left the room.

That’s where the jokes started too. Morgan jumped at every chance he got to suggest - in a not subtle manner - how interested Alice was in me. I didn’t think so, but JJ even ventured out once and asked me when I would do something about it.

Little did she know that Alice was not the woman my heart and desires gravitated around.

God, I missed (Y/N) in my arms. But I needed to be strong. Hopes weren’t an option in this case.

And it seems that peace of mind wasn’t an option either. When (Y/N) started flirting with other guys, I felt the blood boiling inside me.

I shouldn’t have felt jealous; I didn’t have any right, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing she could have some of those guys in her bed, the bed I used to be in for a solid six months, made me sick of my stomach.

I didn’t know that part of me—the possessive one. That part that yearned for her and was desperate.

Another local case closed, and Prentiss convinced us to go for drinks.

After Emily’s return, it was rough to settle for the idea of having her back, but she managed to coax out of us any resentment we could have, even with (Y/N) and me. We didn’t take pretty well Emily’s fake death. Not after grieving her for months. Of course, rationally, we understood her reasons, but it hurt. It hurt a lot.

But they say time helps, and they are right. At the end of the day, Emily was alive, and slowly we got used to that.

Garcia picked the club this time.

Only Hotch and Rossi were excused for not going.

Instantly Morgan pulled Garcia and JJ to the dance floor, leaving Emily, Alice, (Y/N), and me at the table, sipping our alcoholic drink of preference.

Sitting by my side, Alice laced her arm with mine, leaning her head over my shoulder.

“I’m so exhausted, Spence. This case was so draining!” Alice sighed. I returned a hum in response, more focused on how she clutched my arm. When I shifted my gaze to (Y/N), she quickly averted her eyes from me. In a matter of seconds, she stood and strolled to the dance floor, joining Morgan, Garcia, and JJ.

Emily narrowed her eyes as she realized something.

“Alice?” Prentiss asked. The girl looked at her with full attention. “Can I ask you something from the bar? I would go to bring it myself, but I don’t want to be abducted by Morgan.”

Convinced enough, Alice complied and headed to the bar.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and (Y/N)? Or should I say between you and Alice?” Far from Alice’s eardrops, Emily asked immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Spencer, I’m not stupid. (Y/N)’s behavior with Alice around? Your eyes on her?”

Profilers. Not that I had been subtle about it anyway. I cleared my throat, Emily’s gaze on me the entire time.

“I - we - uh. We had sex.”

“With (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” I admitted. Prentiss didn’t look surprised. Of course, she wasn’t.

“And what’s the problem?”

I spit in thirty seconds what had happened between us in the past six months.

“That kind of agreement never works. But sure, you already know that.”

“Believe me. I know that” I sighed.

“Tell her.”

“What?! No! She’s my friend on top of everything. She doesn’t feel like I do. I can’t tell her.” I assured Emily, who didn’t seem too convinced.

“How do you know? I bet she’s jealous of Alice.”

“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, pointing to the dance floor. (Y/N) was grinding against a guy who seemed too enthusiastic about it.

“That means nothing,” Prentiss scoffed.

But for me, it did. (Y/N) was enjoying the night and that guy’s company. And I was stuck in the same shit I wanted not to. I needed to move on from her. Try, at least.

Alice came back with some drinks. Emily took hers and stood to talk to someone who greeted her from another table.

I sipped my beer as Alice smiled and scooted to my side.

“Well, it seems we are alone now,” she pointed.

“Technically, no. The team is scattered between the dance floor and the -” I tried to explain, but Alice’s giggle cut me off.

“You know what I mean, Spencer. In fact, you know what I have been trying to do in the past months,” she asserted, looking at me with a smirk on her face.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Flirt with you. I want you, Spencer. And I know you want me too,” Alice said, brushing some hair I had over my face. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything, seeing how she moved closer and closer. I darted my gaze from her eyes to her lips, which was her cue to close the remaining gap between us, pressing her lips to mine. It was a foreign feeling, but I told myself, ‘why not?’ so I kissed her back.

I cupped her cheeks and cocked my head to deepen the kiss. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pressed her body against mine. I swept my tongue over her lips, and she complied and opened her mouth. Our tongues were fighting for dominance.

But it was wrong. I was kissing Alice, and I was thinking in (Y/N). How different she kissed me, how I missed her touch. The way she plays with my hair on the nape of my neck. The sounds she makes when I touch her.

I ended the kiss because of the guilt for what I was doing and the lack of oxygen. We both were panting, but Alice was the one who had a grin plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I apologized. Alice looked at me with a frown.

“Why do you say that? That kiss was amazing.”

“Alice. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I just can’t. You are such a beautiful and intelligent woman; any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I want you to have me, Spencer. Why not? You are single; I am too. And I know we’re attracted to each other,” she reasoned.

“But I love someone else,” I blurted out. Alice sat straight in the booth, scoffing.

“It’s (Y/N), right?”

I nodded. I really didn’t care right then if the whole DC finds out.

“Yeah. It’s (Y/N).”

��Come on, Spencer. She is not the one for you. I know you have been friends for a while, but you? with her? In a romantic relationship? Not a chance.”

That judgment took me aback. Why was it so difficult to believe?

“Why do you say that?”

“You need a person who cares about you, for real. Not someone that is constantly bossing everyone around and ditching your feelings. I saw how she was treating you lately. The cold shoulder and everything. She doesn’t deserve you, Spencer.”

“(Y/N) is not like that. You’re mistaken,” I shook my head. Alice didn’t understand. It was all my fault.

“Well. If I am, then please tell me what you see right now. That’s the woman you love?” Alice mocked, pointing to a corner where (Y/N) was making out with the same guy from the dance floor.

They both were getting handsy, and my blood started to boil again.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I barely heard what Alice said when I stood up and marched where (Y/N) was.

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

Reader’s POV.

Kissing that bitch. Spencer was kissing that bitch. But why was I surprised? He was the one who told me that our agreement should end because he wanted to fuck Alice.

It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Not when I had another human being roaming my body with his hands and whispering praises into my ear.

Fuck you, Spencer Reid.

I took my fuck-mate prospect’s hand and made him follow me to a more private corner. I needed to forget what I saw, and if that meant getting lost with another guy, so be it.

We were heavily making out when I heard someone clearing his throat. I recognized that sound immediately.

“I need to talk to you,” Spencer sternly said, tapping my shoulder.

I parted from the kiss, and my buddy didn’t seem happy about the interruption. I wasn’t either.

“Hey dude, we’re busy here,” Randall - I’m sure that was his name - told him.

“Yeah, get lost, Reid,” I snarled. It was dark, but I still could see the redness on Spencer’s face.

I was about to resume my kissing session with Ryan when Spencer cleared his throat again, speaking louder this time.

“I will not go. We need to talk (Y/N). Now.”

Did I hear correctly? Was Spencer Reid demanding something from me?

Raymond was pissed off right now and turned to face Spencer with anger in his eyes. I should have felt bad for Spencer, but he deserved it.

“You heard the lady. Get lost!” Reggie grunted, but Spencer didn’t move from his spot, preparing himself for the worst.

When I saw Rendell fisting his hand to land a punch on Spencer’s face, I felt like I should do something.

“Hey, hey, Richie. Calm down. I had fun with you, but my friend needs me now. I’m so sorry,” I said, quickly grabbing Spencer’s wrist and dragging him to the back exit.

“Call me! And it’s Robbie. My name is Robbie.”

The poor guy spoke out before I disappeared.

Once outside, I looked at Spencer deadly.

“Spencer, what the fuck was that?!” I yelled.

“That guy only wanted to take advantage of you,” he spat back.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked him, my hands on my hips and my best-annoyed look.

“He was touching you!” Spencer cringed as if he were talking about the world’s more disgusting thing.

“Oh! Is that a problem?” I mocked. Spencer looked frustrated with my sarcasm.

“Yeah, it is! You were going home with a stranger!”

“Good observation, genius. Maybe it is what I wanted to do.”

“To fuck that guy?” Spencer asked in disbelief.

“Yes! Since I don’t have my fuck-buddy anymore. Does it make sense to you?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. I huffed.

“You did end our agreement, not me!” I reminded him.

“So that is what you miss. Your fuck-buddy,” Spencer pointed, his voice pained as if I said something hurtful.

“Yes. I mean - yes! Of course, I miss you,” I added, but Spencer shook his head.

“No, you miss the sex. Not me,” Spencer corrected.

“What the hell are you trying to say? Just say it, Spencer!”

An awkward silence fell between us. Spencer had his hands fisted as if he was holding something back. As if I had struck a chord in him.

“It can’t be that I was the only one who felt it! All this time was just sex for you?” He asked, and I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“No! That’s why we are friends too. You are not a stranger to me, Spencer. You could never be a stranger to me.” I tried to explain.

“And what if it was more than that? What if I broke the main rule of this whole thing?”

This time I was speechless. How could it be?

“You did not. You have feelings for Alice. That’s why you ended it.”

“No! And no! I don’t have feelings for Alice, and I didn’t end it because of her.”

“Oh please, you were devouring her in that booth minutes ago!” I scoffed.

“Yeah. I - I did kiss Alice, but because I wanted to forget how you were rubbing your body with another guy!” He argued.

“What? Why does that bother you so much?”

Spencer ran his hands through his hair. He was holding back something. When he locked eyes with me, I could see his struggle inside.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He yelled out, and I stepped back from the impetus in how he said it. “And not only because another guy was touching you. I’m jealous because I realize you can go on with your life without me. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret telling you we should have ended our arrangement without explaining the real reason.” Spencer said, averting his gaze from mine.

“And what is that real reason?” I asked in a whisper. I was afraid about what he would say.

Spencer returned his gaze to me.

“That I fell in love with you.”

I was taken aback. I didn’t expect Spencer would say that. I thought that I would be the one who would say it. My surprise seemed to deflate him.

“I know. I screwed up. We said this couldn’t jeopardize our friendship. And I really tried. I swear. But it got stronger every day, and I didn’t know what to do-” he rambled until I pressed my hand on his cheek. Spencer looked at me with doe eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, I broke the rules too. And I’m not only talking about the night I asked you to stay with me. Although that night, I realized I had already loved you for a while,” I confessed, feeling my cheeks burning at the admission.

Spencer looked at me in utter surprise.

“You – you what?” I let out a nervous chuckle, like a teenager confessing to her crush.

“Yeah. I love you.”

Spencer didn’t seem to get the whole idea yet.

“But you were - I mean, that guy over there-”

“I was jealous too. And what could I do? You told me that we should end it. I thought you would fuck Alice and start a relationship with her,” I shrugged.

“God, no! In a million years. You have to believe me,” Spencer hastened to say.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad idea. I saw you excitedly kissing her a while ago,” I pointed matter-of-factly.

“You would think that even if I tell you I was thinking of you when I was doing it?”

“Liar.” I jeered, looking anywhere else but him. Spencer’s hand on my chin guided my gaze to him again.

“I’m not lying. Alice will never kiss me the way you do. She won’t give me goosebumps like you do when you touch me. Much less could she make me – you know – make me that hard, like when you kiss that special spot on my jaw,” he said, now stroking my cheek. I chuckled because I knew that sweet spot so well.

“I bet she couldn’t suck you off as I do,” I dared to say to see his reaction.

Spencer groaned, and I knew he was picturing the scene. Me on my knees, my lips around his shaft.

I was sure that my sultry voice filled him with pent-up desire. He missed me. He wanted me. He needed me the same way I missed him and wanted him.

“Kiss me,” I begged. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned and complied, with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my head; we crushed our lips together. I tried to ground myself, grabbing Spencer’s coat lapels, but the kiss was so fierce that I felt my knees weak. It was sloppy and full of passion.

I could feel Spencer’s erection pressing on my thigh. Maybe this was heating us faster than it should, but I didn’t care, and Spencer didn’t seem to care either.

When we broke the kiss, we were both panting. I could see Spencer’s eyes full of lust, which turned me on more than it should have. I was going to kiss him again, but he stopped me, holding me in place with his hands on my cheeks.

“Did you say she couldn’t suck me off as you do?” He asked me, and I fastly nodded. A smirk emerged on his face.

“Then get on your knees and show me,” Spencer demanded, running his fingers up and down my cheek and jaw.

Wait, what? Was he asked me to give him a blowjob in the back of a club? A public place?

It’s not that we haven’t talked about something like this before, but it was left as a fantasy that could happen in the future. Well, it seems that this moment could happen now. The idea made my panties absolutely soaked.

Without a second thought, my hands worked on Spencer’s belt.

I quickly unzipped his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. Before I got down and started my task, Spencer stopped me, took off his jacket, and hunched to put it on the ground, where I would put my knees.

Quite a gentleman, worried that my knees would not touch the dirty floor. Sure, a gentleman who was going to get a blowjob, but a gentleman nonetheless.

Once ready, he leaned against the wall as I pumped his cock with my hand. I could see the precum on the head, which I spread with my fingers.

Jeez, no matter how often I did this, the man was packed, and it was always a challenge to give him a blowjob.

A groan of satisfaction left his lips as I took him into my mouth.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered.

His hands immediately landed on my head, stroking my hair while I sucked on it, trying to take it whole. I hollowed my cheeks to take more and more of him as I bowed my head to increase his pleasure. And it worked. Spencer’s moans were all I needed to go on.

“Baby, you take it so well. You don´t know how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, coaxing a loud moan from me.

My eyes were fixed on him. Seeing him so lost in pleasure turned me on, throwing his head back, grabbing my hair to hold me in place, and pushing his hips up to fuck my mouth.

As he quickened his pace, I couldn’t help but gag when his cock hit the back of my throat.

“Come on, (Y/N). I know you can take it. This big cock is made for you,” he encouraged me. That way, it helped me relax my throat to take more of him.

I could feel him twitching, a sign that he was close. I loved knowing that I was the one who could push him to the limit, that I was the one who could give him so much pleasure. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

Spencer yanked on my hair to stop me as he was about to explode. Panting, he gazed at me adoringly as he helped me to my feet.

“I think we’ll leave this kind of ending for another time. Come here,” Spencer panted. I grinned, sweeping my lips with my tongue.

Spencer collided his lips with mine in another heatest kiss. He could taste himself in my mouth.

In the dark alley now was Spencer, who caged me against the wall. The cool bricks didn’t cool down the fire running through my body.

“Please, Spencer. I need you, baby,” I moaned on Spencer’s lips. He didn’t hesitate to act for his desires. His fingers toyed with the hem of my skirt, pulling it up enough to slip his hands under the fabric, caressing my thighs up and down but still not touching where I wanted him the most.

Feeling me squirming, he knew I was growing desperate for more.

“Are you greedy right now, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he taunted. That little did help me to stay still. His low voice and the teasing only made my arousal grow.

“You. I want you. Now. Please,” I mumbled. My eyes shut, feeling Spencer’s hands traveling upper my tights.

He took pity on me and reached my covered center with one hand. He started to circle my clit over my damped panties. A growl escaped my mouth.

“So wet, and I barely touched you,” he teased.

“Umm. It’s all for you. Keep touching me, please.”

I purred, feeling the pleasure of his thumb circling my bundle of nerves.

His lips sucked the skin on my neck, making me moan. My hands tugged the curls I had in my reach. Spencer grunted as his hand pulled the fabric to the side, letting his thumb work on my clit without any barrier. He added his middle finger, pushing it between my folds. A silent scream told him that it was what I wanted, quickly adding a second finger.

“Fuck! Spencer!” Still dizzy, I bucked my hips to feel his fingers deeper and deeper.

“You like that, uh?”

I couldn’t manage to let words out. But Spencer already knew the answer, speeding up his pace.

The poor light in the alley let Spencer see my face. Sure I looked like a mess, moaning and taking what he was giving to me.

“Spencer, baby. I’m so close,” I whimpered.

“I know. Do you want to cum in my fingers? Here, where can anyone see us?” He was openly teasing me, but honestly, he was just as worked up as me.

“Yes! Make me come. I want to give it to you because I’m yours—nobody else. Yours.”

That encouraged him to work faster, panting praises in my ear, circling my clit, and fingering me. That was enough to push me to the edge.

A loud moan and my walls clenching around his fingers told Spencer I was almost there.

“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I whimpered as I came.

He helped me ride my orgasm, moving his fingers slowly and kissing my lips tenderly. Carefully, Spencer retrieved his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. The sight made me moan, pulling Spencer by his lapel to kiss him again. Now I could taste myself in his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

“Yeah. But I need more,” I panted, still regulating my breathing. Although the poor light, I saw him smirk.

I wanted to feel him so bad. It didn’t matter that we were in a dark alley where anyone could pass and see us.

Spencer pumped his shaft a couple of times before aligning it at my entrance. He made eye contact with me to confirm if I was ready.

“Fuck me, please,” I whined.

It was the answer he needed.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned when he slid the head of his cock between my folds, pushing inch by inch until he bottomed out.

“Oh my God. Yes!” I moaned. The feeling of him filling me up has always been so intense, no matter how many times he had done this.

“Baby, you’re so tight. I don’t know how I can fit in you,” he panted, stilling there and basking in the feeling of my warmth and wetness.

“You’re so big. I love how you stretch me. I love to feel everything of you,” I whimpered. Spencer let out a grunt trying to keep still and not move until I was ready.

“You - you can move now,” I whined, urging him to oblige.

Spencer pulled out almost entirely, only to slam into me right after.

“Shit!” I cried as Spencer set a pace. Ragged breaths erupted from both of us.

It was like being at home. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.

“You like that? Uh?” Spencer grumbled, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“Yes! You feel so - so good. I love the way - ah! - the way you fuck me,” I said.

“That’s why you were flirting with that asshole? You - you wanted me jealous?”

“Uh - yes! Yes! Yes! I wanted you so bad. I missed you so bad!”

Some tears pricked my eyes. A mix between the pleasure Spencer was giving to me and the realization that I missed him, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

People might say it’s strange that such a collected, shy, and socially awkward man could have such an animalistic side. For me, it is part of a whole. Spencer is all that and much more. People are multifaceted, and our social side often seems to be the opposite of our intimate side. Honestly, that’s not a problem for me. I love Spencer in all his different ways: the nerd, the fact-spouting young genius, the Dr. Who fan, the good friend, the one who’s by your side when you need him, the one willing to sacrifice for you, the man who is self-conscious when he receives compliments, the lover, the one who can mark your body with lovebites and who can make you see stars with his tongue or his fingers.

They are all the Spencer I love, my Spencer.

Spencer grabbed one of my legs and looped it around his waist. I held onto his biceps for stability as he speeded up his thrusts. Our moans were loud enough that it was a miracle no one had seen us yet.

Though perhaps I spoke too soon.

I opened my eyes, looked over Spencer’s shoulder, and saw someone looking at us. That made the adrenaline rush in a different direction than it was at that moment.

“Spencer. She’s - she’s watching us - she’s there. Fuck!” I managed to say between whimpers. Spencer didn’t seem bothered by my announcement, as his thrusts remained in the same delicious way.

“Who? Who’s watching us?” He asked, panting in my ear.

“Alice. Fuck! Should- should we stop?” I barely could form coherent words at this point, but I needed to warn him. We were in a public place, after all. The realization made my arousal grow somehow, so I only could close my eyes and feel Spencer’s cock stretching me most delightfully.

Almost forgetting that I told him what was happening around us, I swear I feel Spencer smirk on the crook of my neck.

“No. No. Let her watch if she wants. So she knows I’m yours. That you’re the only one - the only one I want to fuck in my entire life. Every time, everywhere. Let her see us. I - don’t - fucking - care,” Spencer emphasized each part with a deep thrust. I was a moaning mess, eyes shut and clinging to Spencer’s biceps for some balance as I lost myself in the pleasure.

The coil in my lower belly built it faster and faster.

“I love you so fucking much,” I panted, bucking up my hips to feel him deeper if that was possible at this point.

We both knew it was animalistic, lacking all rationalism. But we need it. We craved it in the most primal essence, where the words were not enough.

“I love you too. Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I’ll make you come. That’s it, my love—my good girl.”

“Repeat it, please,” I begged, arching my back.

“I love you, my good girl—only you,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yes! I’m yours. Spencer! God! So so good,” I babbled. I didn’t know it was something coherent, but who cares anyway?

“Are you close? Are you going to cum on my cock? Let her see how I fill you up?” He asked, a twisted smirk on him. Oh, fuck, how I love this man.

I didn’t know if Alice was still watching us, but the thought of her realizing that Spencer only wanted me and I only wanted him made me delirious.

“Yes! Please! Let me cum. I’m so close, baby.”

The feelings must be shown in some way, expressed, and offered in the form of actions. This time it was the possessiveness: the fact that reminded us that the fire was there because we belonged to each other.

At the top of our climax, mouths only served to moan our names, curses, and praises.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I yelled, shutting my eyes in pleasure.

My muscles tightened around Spencer when I came, pushing him to the edge. Spencer groaned as he emptied himself in me.

“Arg! So good, so good for me,” he muffled as his head nestled in the crook of my neck.

The moment and the place made the feeling more powerful. So powerful that we got lost in the dizziness of that post-coital bliss for a minute or two.

“God, I love you,” Spencer mumbled, kissing my neck. I giggled, feeling his stubble on my skin.

“I love you too. You’re more than my fuck-buddy, Spencer. And more than my friend too. You’re the man I love. I mean it,” I reassured him, tracing my fingers between his locks. He hummed contentedly. Parting from my neck, Spencer focused his eyes on mine.

“I know I should have said something before, but I was scared,” he confessed.

“Me too. But here we are. In a dark alley, in the back of a club, after fucking the shit out of us. I guess we are okay now.” We both giggled.

“Yeah, we’re more than okay,” he said, pecking my lips and hugging me tightly.

Well, maybe Emily Prentiss faking her death did bring something good to my life, after all.

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Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle

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