WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN - Tumblr Posts

Calum with a fan today

Gengar getting its studio ghibli life befor me

The way coup's aftercare would be the softest thing ever

The way you’re so right!!! It would be so freaking soft. That man loves taking care of people and he extra loves taking care of you. Aftercare is the one place he can baby you 100% and you happily let him.

I feel like Coup’s aftercare would start practically. After a tender kiss and asking if you’re okay, he’d grab some wet wipes, wiping his cum (and other fluids) off you. And then he would make sure you pee after sex. Doesn’t matter how lazy you’re feeling or how much he just wants to lay there with you, he will force you to go pee. No UTI’s under his watch.

While you head to the bathroom, he’d quickly make the bed and clean up himself before grabbing some water and just-in case-snacks. As soon as you’re done, he’d be waiting by the door with the water. He needs to make you’re hydrated okay! And then comes the good part.

Under the blankets, he’d wrap you up in his arms making sure you’re nice and warm. And he’d shower you with kisses - forehead kisses, nose kisses, cheek kisses, kisses all over your face, and of course, kisses kisses.

He’d rub your back, asking if you’re feeling okay, if there’s anything you would want to talk about, especially if it was a particularly rough session. He wants to make sure you always feel safe with him. And you’d ask him if he was okay, if there’s anything he would want to talk about, because you always want him to feel safe with you.

He’d play with your hair, gently stroking it as you both talk about anything and everything, bursting into laughter at the dumbest things. He’d smile to himself as you start yawning and your words become less and less understandable.

‘Go to sleep baby, my tired little baby’ he’d say cutely, pinching your cheeks, as you’d try to convince him you’re not tired. Having said that, you’d feel yourself sinking into him as you drift off, his hand still stroking your hair. ‘Sweet dreams, my love’ he’d whisper, hoping to see you in his.

After he’s sure you’re asleep, he’d give you a final kiss goodnight before drifting off himself.

take a chance / jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo x Reader // 1.7k words // nothing but fluff lol they're idiots

a/n: if you cant tell im absolutely insane abt this wonwoo. 100000% self indulgent and 100% not proofread as always ehe <3 v lowkey inspired also by niki - take a chance with me

He drives me crazy, it's so beyond me

How he'd look at me dead in the eye and stay unaware

Niki - Take A Chance with Me

[☆]

Wonwoo has never really been interested in romance.

When he was six and his friends started talking about girls were icky, he couldn't have cared enough to even think about girls in particular.

When he was fourteen and his close cousin who was practically his big brother told him about his first girlfriend, Wonwoo had simply nodded and congratulated him because the older guy looked like he was waiting for it even though he didn't get what's there to congratulate.

When he was seventeen and another cousin got married, he thought a little about what it'd be like to commit yourself for the rest of your life to another person.

Anyhow, now he's twenty seven and still pretty much free from the dating experience.

He just simply couldn't be bothered to try nor was he even curious enough to try.

There's too much risk. Too much things to do. Too many factors to think about. It's too complicated and Wonwoo has never been a fan of complicated.

Sure, the older he gets the more he understands about the attraction and whatnot. But the few dates that he has been on (which he could count with his two hands) was entirely due to his friends setting up with someone and his inability to say no the second time even though he did reject their so-called-help the first time around.

They eventually get the hint and stop setting Wonwoo up on a blind date.

He never sees romance as a necessity and he doesn't feel the need to have a partner, what is there more to say?

“I lost the floor 12 Abyss again.” You pout, half tempted to throw away the joystick in your hands. “I'm never playing this game again, I'm telling you.”

Wonwoo chuckles and tells you to move as he slides next to you, taking the joystick away and getting ready to restart your game.

“You just suck at this.” He teases, not minding your glare because he's way too used to it at this point. “And you say that everytime but here you are, still playing.”

“Shut up.” You pout, both impressed and unimpressed at the way he easily goes through the stages.

“Done.” He grins, all nine shining stars looking back at you.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do!” You take back the joystick from him and close the window. “You don't even play this game! This is bullshit!”

He laughs under his breath and ruffles your hair, saying something about how he can't help being good at it.

You like that side of Wonwoo, as you often tell him, because people have always said that Wonwoo is quiet–that he doesn't talk a lot and it could be awkward being left alone with him.

And whilst it's not entirely untrue and you've been there too, you also know that Wonwoo is much more than his lack of words.

Wonwoo talks a lot once he's comfortable. You just need to be very patient and understanding about his silence before he gets there.

You… have been plenty patient, amongst other things.

You're patient enough to get where you are even though you've never imagined you'd get here.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to be comfortable with you that he doesn't mind inviting you over to his place with no other companies.

Here, meaning being close enough with Wonwoo for him to not mind the fact that you like him and not act weird about it.

Here, meaning being close with Wonwoo despite the fact that you've confessed to him about your feelings but you're still here in his place, right next to him with not a single air of awkwardness between you two.

Turning off the Playstation, you settle on Wonwoo's sofa and decide to scroll through Instagram instead. You sigh, catching his attention, and when he asks you what's wrong, you simply shake your head no.

“What are you sighing about this time?”

This is something that people don't know about Wonwoo either: he prods when it comes to people he cares about.

Granted, he does it exactly three times to see if the other party would relent by then. He does that because that's how he is, he once tells you, because he rarely opens up at the first question but eventually cracks on the third time. That, by the third question, he's already had enough time to consider whether or not he really wants to talk about it.

“Nothing important.” You try to reassure him. “Just silly stuff.”

Wonwoo looks at you pointedly, but you simply smile and turn back to your phone, which he supposes means you don't feel like bringing it up just yet.

He closes his book and puts it on the coffee table, leaning closer to you to see what you're up to.

You wonder if Wonwoo knows what his action means to your poor, poor heart. If he's aware that, as much you said you're cool despite your confession, you still have romantic attractions towards him and confessing doesn't mean you're no longer affected by anything and everything he does.

After watching you go through your phone for a bit, it is quite easy for Wonwoo to realize what might be the core of your problem.

“You're thinking about why you're single again, aren't you?”

Your fingers freeze and so does your entire body, and Wonwoo would've laughed at how surprised you look right now, but he knows you're actually bothered by this problem from time to time though he doesn't exactly understand why.

And for someone who's observative and quite sensitive when it comes to things around him, Wonwoo can be a bit dense, still.

On what kind of universe does he think this topic would be okay to talk about with someone who literally confessed to you and somewhat got rejected though not explicitly?

“I don't want to talk about it.” You whine despite the fast beating of your heart. You honestly don't think you have it in you to talk about this with Wonwoo. At least not just yet.

“Why?”

You look at him, incredulous. “You know why.”

“Because you like me?”

You shrug, not wanting to deny it.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, voice very gentle and careful.

“What?”

“I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive.” You press your lips together as he starts. At least, he has the conscience to know that. “But… what is it about being in a relationship that appeals so much to you?”

You pause before you answer, wondering what to say. “Do you want me to actually answer that?”

“If you don't mind answering.”

Wonwoo wonders if he makes you uncomfortable by asking such question. But if there's anyone he can ask about this, it can only be you. No one else would answer it in a way that he would understand. No one else would give him the sincerity that you'd give in your answer.

He feels bad knowing you like him and still asking you like this. But he supposes you're both close enough for that discussion, that he doesn't want to let your feelings get in the way of your precious friendship.

Perhaps he's selfish, but he doesn't want to be too conscious when it comes to your relationship with him despite everything.

“I guess it's just the fact that someone's always there for you.” You start, not looking at him even though his gaze is locked at you. “That there's this person who… you can tell everything to, from your secrets to what you feel like eating today. That when you want to do something, you can always run to them first before wondering if anyone else is available. That–”

“But that's already how we are?” He cuts you off.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering if it's some kind of prank even though you know he's not that kind of person.

“That's already what I do with you.” He says one more time–more firm and somewhat determined with a hint of confusion. “Why do you think you're in my place so often?”

“I… I– I don't know? You're… bored? And I happen to be free?” You stutter a little, not used to the way he's staring at you.

“I am bored.” He agrees, things suddenly crystal clear in his eyes. “But I'm bored because I don't have you around. And I want you here. That's why I asked all the time if you're available.”

You open your lips to say something–anything, but nothing comes out because your heartbeat is ringing throughout your body right up to your ears.

“You're the only person I send those posts about places I want to visit because I want to visit with you. I don't send them to anyone else. I don't even like going out all that much.”

“I… I don't understand?”

“Are we in a relationship?” He asks rather bluntly, mixing all your feelings together with one single question.

“Wonwoo, I don't think this is how you should go around it–”

“Have we been dating all this time?” He asks one more time, not even seemingly nervous about it.

He looks at you like he's expecting an answer, but how are you supposed to answer that? You've simply been happy that you get to spend time with him. You didn't think for one second that he might be into you despite all the time he asks you to accompany him somewhere and all the time you're alone in his place.

“I've been too oblivious, haven't I?” He concludes by himself, your silence doesn't deter him at all.

He reaches for your cheek, and if he notices how warm your face is, he doesn't mention it. But he caresses the apple of your cheek as he looks at you with the gentlest reflection you've ever seen in his eyes.

“I'm sorry it took me too long.” He whispers, and you bite your lip so hard to hide your smile because you don't want to be too happy before anything's decided. You're not sure what he's trying to say, your head is spinning with thoughts and your heart is beating at an erratic rhythm. “Do you mind… letting me learn a bit more?”

“About what?” You whisper back.

“Being a good boyfriend?” He smiles when you do too, feeling warmth all over his chest at how shy you seem to be. “You know I've never done this before, right? Let me take a chance with you?

You finally let yourself grin at this, no longer able to control the happiness blooming within you at whatever this might mean.

And as you lean your face more into his palm, Wonwoo thinks he's ready to take all the risks that might come together with whatever the future has in store as long as he has you by his side.

one thing that i love so much about yousana was that it didn’t take a kiss, hold of hands or anything known as a “romantic gesture” to have them fall for each other.

it was literally a simple look of eyes, expressions of care and words shared between them that really developed their relationship and god, were they so in love.

so in love that yousef even said “i think she’s my soulmate”

sneak peak!!

god this scene makes me so emo.

fuck.

lucas and jens finally talk, and the walls lucas has built up have suddenly been brought down by the soft brown eyes in front of him.

in other words, both of them have fallen hopelessly in love with each other.

[side note] the events and character portrayals have been remodeled to fit my vision so it is not 100% accurate and by the book. it’s just a general play on the og characters sort of fitting the skam character moulds

PLEASE YOU KILLED ME WITH THIS ONE!!!

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

96 + 101 + Hwa - 💋

96 — “oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?” 

101 — “lift your hips up for me.”

smut/nsfw; mdni

“lift your hips up for me,” seonghwa urged, hands tapping on your hips.

you almost didn’t hear him despite his mouth being inches from your ear, his cock drilling into your pussy so good you were unable to process anything else. you moaned, but remained still, enjoying your current position way too much. it felt too good to move.

“lift your hips,” he repeated, a little more sternly than before. “i promise it’ll feel even better, baby.”

you did as he told you, rutting your hips upward. his hands cradled your waist, keeping you locked in this elevated position. he thrusted back into you, and stars exploded in your vision when his cock hit the gummy spot inside you. you cried out over and over like a broken record while he drove into you, your lifted hips allowing his cock to fuck into you at the most toe curling angle. “f-fuck, seonghwa!”

“oh, sensitive there, aren’t we?” seonghwa was smug, reveling in the sight of you and the clench of your walls around him. you were so fucking close he could feel it, your body plush and pliable as it succumbed to the pleasure.

you nodded. “mmh, fuck, right there. don’t stop!”

“i wouldn’t dream of stopping,” seonghwa whispered against your ear, his hips keeping the same pace to propel you over the edge. “gonna make my baby cum so hard on my cock.”

….well I might need a glass of water, all this dirty talk got me 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

10.12 || Basilisk Yeosang

Pairing: Yeosang x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Dom!Yeo, Clit Play, Mentions Of Marking, Sub!Reader, Auralism, BlindFolded, Lotsssss Of Dirty Talk, Fingering, Orgasm Control, If I’m Missing Something..🫣Let Me Know!

Kinktober Masterlist

“Just listen to me closely, my dear.” His deep voice bounced off of every wall in the cool stone room, you could hear the movement of his long body amongst the tiles to the floor. Here you were, blindfolded, legs cocked open with your hand rubbing slow circles around your clit. Biting your lip you let out a small whimper. You loved to play this game with Yeosang, his deep voice was the first thing you noticed about him. Wandering into the forbidden cave upon a dare, you heard the stories about a man whose beauty was unlike any other, it was said that he was the serpent king, and one look into his eyes, instantaneous death. Wanting to see if these rumors were true you decided to wander the cave of these tales. You found Yeosang, the serpent king, while he was godly he was nothing that they ever spoke about. He was like, caring, he had a voice so deep and inviting, with each breath he took you could tell his words came from his chest.

You came back to the cave, over, and over, growing on the cold snake skinned man, when he stepped slightly out the cave the iridescent scales shined. He had warned you the first time you stumbled across him that if you made eye contact with him you’d die instantly, opting to keep you safe he made you a blindfold. Not wanting to even take the risk of his dreadful curse taking you away from him. As you spent more time blindfolded, your sense of hearing improved, picking up on each syllable he spoke, his small lisp, the true deep tone of his voice, how with every word that made a ‘S’ sound his snake tongue dragged out the letter, he made you feel things with his voice that no one could achieve with their hands.

“Continue touching yourself for me.” He groaned out, voice thick with want and need. Yet he didn’t dare to move, he had so much self control some days it irked you to no end. Your fingers lightly played with your clit, wanting him to fill your cunt. You knew no matter how much you touched yourself it would never amount to how Yeosang made you feel.

“Fuck…you are absolutely gorgeous. You should see how good you look right now. All spread out for me. Fuck…you are going to look so fucking amazing cumming on me.” His deep voice made your head fill with butterflies, his voice so strong it could make you cum alone.

“Yeo please…” you whimpered out, wanting to hear more of his deep voice in your ears. You hear his body shift slightly, a sudden cool breeze brushes against your body. You feel his cool scaled skin brush against your back. His cool hands come up to grip your knees, spreading you more open.

“Want to know what I’m going to do to you?” His deep breath whispered in your ear, his long, forked tongue flickering out against your ear. Your body shivers, you nod your head, wanting him to proceed.

“I’m going to lay you on your stomach, and arch your back. Then I’m going to slide right into your pussy.”

Your hand pauses on your clit, Yeosang grabs your hand, pushing it right against your hole, making you insert your pointer and middle finger, he pushes your own fingers slowly into yourself, letting out a small gasp, you place your feet upright on the stone floor.

“I’m going to wait before I move. I want you to feel how hard my cock is, I want you to feel every vein pulse around your warm wet walls. Then I’m going to start moving slowly in and out of you, making sure to brush that spot that makes you see stars. Just thinking about it is making my dick hard, fuck, I love the way you feel when I slide into you for the first time, I want that feeling over and over again.” His cool breath constantly hits your jawline as he speaks, and leaves small kisses along your neck. The gruff in his tone added onto the deep meaning being each word.

“Just because I love to see your pretty ass arched, I’m going to go hard in your pussy. You know I love when it makes those wet noises for me.” He moves your fingers in and out of you faster, matching the pace you assume he’s going to use on you. His vocals are so captivating, it could draw anyone in like a moth to the flame, with your sight taken away it enhanced every single feeling.

“Then I’m going to leave bite marks all over your neck, while I’m thrusting in and out of you. I wanna mark your pretty skin for everyone to see. I know how much you love my teeth on your skin, I want everyone to know I’m the one fucking you.” With each word his chest vibrates, the timber tone floods your brain. Your fingers continue to pump in and out of you, soaking down to your wrist, along with wetting Yeosangs hand as well, guiding you in and out of your own cunt like he was the puppet master, and you were just his cock hungry puppet. Your vision being taken away made things so much better, you heard the deep breath with every word he spoke, you heard the way your arousal squelched with each finger thrust, you heard how his breath would quicken when your fingers pulled out before diving back in. You once yearned to see this man, yet the feeling of being blind to what would happen fueled more desires in you then you could imagine. He tugs slightly on the back of the blindfold, your head laying flat against his cool, sculpted chest.

“I’m going to take you anyway I want, because I know you love when I’m in control.” His thumb presses against your clit, with the movements of your own fingers pumping into you, and the pressure on your clit, mixed with his deep voice in your ear, your brain can only focus on the feeling of your pussy and his deep voice bringing you over the edge. Just as you are on the brink of seeing the light behind the blind fold he grabs your wrist stopping you from your movements. His thumb is still rubbing slow circles around your clit. Not only did you love his voice, you also desired the grunts he let out after each sentence he spoke to you.

“Then while I’m fucking you, I’m going to have you ask for permission to cum.” His heavy voice whispers into your ear, dragging out the letter S in permission. Grabbing the blind fold once again, turning your head to the side, you know his eyes are directly on yours, yet the blind fold halts any mishaps that could happen with his eye contact.

“As much as you love my voice, I love yours, I love yours so much I want to hear you beg for it.”

Taglist: @abby-grace @petsuccube @maximofftrash @tunaasan @seonghwasslytherin @pearltinyy @bubblegumbird @araknoid @mingtina @oreoqueen @dani-is-tired @8tinytings @sunwoosbaby @acetruepunk @alliecoady98 @s-unflowxr @rxnexxi @mixling-blog @staytinyinmybpack @starryskiesthings @horanghaezone @realviviboss @mikaelless @scuzmunkie

GIF and Divider @justaaveragereader

DO NOT DO REPOST.

s.coups "lalali"

CRYING. SCREAMING.

svt hyung line’s reaction to surprise kisses

felt like i needed to write tonight so here we go!!

svt x gn!reader, all fluff (again x2)

wc: ~800

read the maknae line ver

seungcheol

he’s distracted when you strike. he’s doing the dishes, scrubbing away at the grimy plates when he jumps from a small peck on the back of his neck. as you attempt to escape, he tears off the comically large rubber gloves and chases after you. when he catches you, he basically wrestles you into a hug, laughing as you whine and playfully hit his chest. he doesn’t let you go until after he finishes pressing a loving kiss on your lips and leaving a few love bites on your neck.

jeonghan

jeonghan isn’t the type to let things go easily. so when you pretend he has a bit of shaving cream left on his face only to kiss his jaw and dash off, he’s already formulating a plan to get revenge. at jun’s birthday party the next day, he purposely brushes his cupcake a bit too close to your face. when he offers to help you clean up, he presses his mouth to your cheek and kisses the frosting off, laughing as you go red in front of your friends.

joshua

you mess with joshua, you get what’s coming to you. you surprise him in the pool, while he’s lounging on the sidelines for a bit and sipping on a juice box. you leap at him from under the water, splash him, and press a chaste kiss on his nose before diving under once more and swimming off. he returns the favor after a couple hours, when you’re standing by the poolside. he asks for your hand, which you happily give in order to prevent him from completely turning into a prune. he’s waited hours for this moment. with a strong tug, he yanks you into the pool and catches you in his arms, laughing and peppering kisses along your pouty face.

junhui

when you surprise him with a soft kiss to his cheek, he immediately wraps his arms around you and locks you in place. he smirks. and then he starts to tickle. he doesn’t stop, no matter how many times you try to use the excuse that you’re going to pee yourself if he keeps going. he continues to torture you, taunting you and getting payback for the lack of a proper kiss. for a moment, you think you actually are going to pee yourself, but he stops before you do and stares at you expectantly. you sigh teasingly. there’s only one way out of being tickled to death by jun. with a huff, you press a long kiss to his lips, feeling him rest his arms around you and melt into the kiss.

soonyoung

the two of you are in the middle of a duet, dancing lazily. he doesn’t notice your mischievous smile for the longest time, completely focused on the movements and the choreography. when there’s a moment in the dance where the two of you are facing each other closely, you suddenly rush forward and press a quick kiss to his lips. he breaks, body refusing to move even as the song continues on. when the choreographer asks him what’s wrong, he flushes red and tries to play it off. he requests a break and playfully scolds you the entire time, even with his reddened face in his hands.

wonwoo

in the middle of his league game, wonwoo suddenly feels a set of lips meet his cheek. he doesn’t seem to be affected, only reacting with a soft hum. his hands and eyes stay focused on the screen. you huff, suspecting that he’s immune to your surprises. after his game ends, while you’re laying on the couch reading your favorite book, he pulls the book out of your hands, shoves the bookmark in, and dives onto the couch with you. the two of you spend the next hour cuddling and kissing. you learn that he won his league game after he doubled down and sped through his lane, motivated by your kiss.

jihoon

while he’s bopping his head to one of the tracks he put together, you press a quick kiss to his temple. he’s surprised. he didn’t even know that you were in the room, thanks to bumzu leaving the door slightly ajar for you on his way to the bathroom. you laugh when he reacts, eyes wide and mouth open. he’s happy to see you, and he’s certainly happy to receive a kiss. a smile blooms on his face and he pulls you in close for a hug before he unplugs his headphones and lets you listen in on his newest work.

a/n: ive been having the biggest writer’s block lately when it comes to some of the longer fics i’m writing.. but i just felt like i needed to write something, so have this! i’ll probably finish up a maknae line version later this week :]

honestly can't wait till the day i have a pretty lil sub on my lap, putting their face in my neck and whining from my hands doing whatever they want on their body... like YES baby, talk to me! let me know how good it feels when my fingers are knuckle deep in you and let me hear your breathless little moans and whimpers while you come undone in my lap <3<3<3

good cure for anxiety is getting a strap shoved so deep into you that all your real life problems disappear

Omgomgomg this is sooo cute, amazing and perfect!!! Mother and gojo in one fic = perfection 💗💗💗💗💗

Omg can u do a one shot where reader goes to the eras tour with Gojo??

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

satoru gojo x f!reader

an: this didn't mesh well as a one shot when I wrote it, so i hope this mix of blurbs and headcanons is ok <3 also, this is for a very specific audience, feel free to ignore on your dash!!!

--

satoru gojo, in his infinite knowledge and wisdom, is first exposed to the eras tour when you ask him to sign up for a presale code

“wait, so. you just want me to sign up for all the dates?” satoru asks, voice echoing through your phone speaker.  “yes, make sure that you verify your ticketmaster account and everything now. and then when you do that, send me a picture so i can make sure you did it right.” you respond.  “it’s not rocket science, babe. i’m sure i can figure out how to do it.” satoru grumbles, as you hear typing on the other end of the line.  “just take the picture when you’re done.”  “was this that important that you had to call me while I was at work?”  “babe. this is taylor swift. of course it was.”  “right.” 

the fated day of buying tickets come and you and satoru are literally hiding from your bosses in the corner of your office - laptops pulled up and anxiously watching the queue

you're both nervously watching the numbers get smaller and smaller, nervous hands open on a twitter tab that's talking about people getting kicked out of the line, locked out, or being told that the tickets are already all gone

but by the grace of god, satoru's laptop goes through first and he manages to bag the two of you floor tickets and you're in

you climb into bed, pushing the hair off of satoru’s head to give him a kiss on the forehead, before you tuck yourself into the sheets and nestle into his arms.  “sweetheart.”  “hm?”  “can i ask you a question? you don’t have to say yes.” he asks, voice all uncharacteristically shy.  you prop yourself up on his bare chest, trying to discern the look on his face in the dark, as you nod.  “can i go to the concert with you?”  and when you see the little frowny face he has on, you can’t help but laugh at the entire ordeal, at the satoru gojo begging you to take him to a taylor swift concert. and when you start laughing, he starts grumbling, turning his surely pink face away from you.  “shut up.”  “oh my god, toru. you’re so cute, you know that?”  “i’m glad my misery is adorable to you.”  “I’d love if you would come to the concert with me. on one condition.”  “what’s that?”  “you have to learn all the lore and listen to the songs before we go. i’m not about to be that girl standing next to the guy who doesn’t know the surprise songs on the floor.”  “okay. what’s a surprise song?”  you press your fingers against his lips and place a kiss on his cheek.  “all in good time.”

you make a game plan for satoru, color coded and planned out, for him to learn everything you want him to know

you break it down for him era by era, asking him to first listen to the album and send you his reviews - and then explaining important key details that he would need to know

and it evolves so fast, because he gets more and more excited as he goes on, texting you his thoughts at work

he just needs a reason to not do work, but he gets REALLY REALLY INTO IT

satoru: YOU’RE GAY.  you: no? i don’t think so satoru: i’m singing picture to burn babe, be quiet satoru: if the way i loved you is country music, slap a flannel and a cowboy hat on me because i am FLOORED. ABSOLUTE BANGER.  you: PLEASE ARE YOU LISTENING AT WORK???  satoru: mind your own business.  satoru: also, who is mr. perfectly fine about?  you: joe jonas.  satoru: she dated joe jonas?  you: no satoru, she dated barack obama. yes, she dated joe jonas.  satoru: well now i hate him. he’s so rude.  satoru: THIS IS ME SWALLOWING MY PRIDE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU SAYING IM SORRY FOR THATTTT NIGHT  you: last night when you ate my leftovers?  satoru: that wasn’t me you: sure.  satoru: is dear john about john mayer?  you: yes. we don’t like him.  satoru: fuck yeah we don’t. SHINING LIKE FIREWORKS OVER YOUR SAD EMPTY TOWN??? JOHN, JOHN WHEN I CATCH YOU  satoru: babe if you ever break up with me ill go sleep on the highway  you: ok?? I wasn’t planning on it satoru: do not EVER give me a reason to relate to last kiss i will actually do something dangerous  you: why did shoko just send me a picture of you with your head down on your desk at work?  satoru: babe please don’t talk to me rn. i just listened to all too well and i am inconsolable.  you: wait till you watch the short film.  satoru: PLEASE I CAN’T HANDLE THIS. JAKE GYLLENHAL ALEX THE LION FROM MADAGASCAR WHEN I GET YOU.  you: ok satoru. pipe down.  satoru: ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET  you: i feel like im creating a monster.  satoru: I WANT YOU FOR WORSE OR FOR BETTER BROKE YOUR HEART ILL PUT IT BACK TOGETHER satoru: just finished reputation. many thoughts  you: oh???  satoru: one. can we get frisky to dress? two. I am buying you a necklace with my initial on it. three. king of my heart is my favorite song so far. four. CAN WE GET FRISKY TO DRESS. five. kanye west, when I get you. you: satoru. you are at work. please focus.  satoru: i know that’s a yes.  satoru: just listened to lover. I am inconsolable and i love this white woman. DAYLIGHT??? THAT’S SO ME AND YOU. LOVER??? THAT’S SO ME AND YOU. PAPER RINGS??? ME AND YOU.  you: do not take paper rings as an excuse to not buy me a real ring. I am expecting a nice six pronged gold band circular cut diamond.  satoru: also can we get frisky to false god.  you: satoru gojo.  satoru: babe. urgent. 911.  you: what.  satoru: am i augustine or am i betty??  you: you’re inez. nosy gossiping ass bitch.  satoru: EXCUSE ME. also invisible string is so us. joe alwyn, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS.  you: well. satoru: is she ok. like seriously, is taylor ok??? if she has happily been in a relationship for six years why did she write tolerate it? doesn’t she know my mental health is fragile?  you: why tf are YOU crying about tolerate it? we’ve been in a stable relationship for four years satoru: i was imaging you being mean to me. it really hurt my feelings  you: ok.  satoru: long story short, the masterpiece that you are. JOE AND TAYLOR YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS.  satoru: what is their name combined  you: toe.  satoru: ok… satoru: MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT you: oh god. you’re at the end. let’s hear it.  satoru: one. can we get frisky to maroon? two. you’re on your own kid changed my life. three. sweet nothing is us. four. can we get frisky to maroon. five. john mayer i will KILL YOU. six. also is like scooter braun a crack head or something like what is vigilante shit even about  satoru: babe. satoru: no.  satoru: YOU’RE LOSING ME???? JOE???? JOE ALWYN MY BROTHER JOE ALWYN???? NO.  you: yes.  satoru: Y/N. HE WON’T MARRY HER?????? IM GOING TO KILL HIM. THE GUY WHO LOVER IS ABOUT??? WHO MASTERMIND SWEET NOTHING INVISIBLE STRING IS ABOUT???  satoru: do not talk to me. I hate you.  you: WHAT DID I DO

satoru gets more and more excited about the entire thing as it goes on, telling YOU that you need to start planning outfits and making bracelets like you weren't the one who got him into this

satoru cannot make friendship bracelets. but he likes watching you make them and asking you all the little things you like about the music

“ok. what do i make the next one?”  “hm. did you do style yet?”  “no.”  you start collecting all the beads as satoru props his phone up against the table, to the live stream of the concert. every night, the two of you watch the surprise songs together and make a note of which ones you lose from your drafted list of picks - a mix of yours and satoru’s favorite songs that aren’t on the setlist.  “open.”  satoru holds the spoon of noodles right over your lips as you focus on finishing the bracelet, his eyes focused on the live stream.  “satoru.”  “hm?”  “can i ask a weird question?”  “sure.”  “you seem like you’re like really into this. like actually.”  “well, i am. this is serious - i cannot lose clean for a second time or i will break something.”  “not that. I just mean, the entire thing. like the songs and the music and all that. you…are really into it.”  “well, why wouldn’t i be? it’s something you like. and it clearly means a lot to you, so it does to me too.”  you can feel your cheeks burning at how blunt he is about the entire thing, like it’s something so obvious, like him putting in all this effort to like something you do is a given. you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, which he smiles at before focusing back on the live stream.  “BABE. NO.”  “OH MY GOD." “ITS CLEAN.” “TORU HOW DID WE LOSE A SONG TWICE.”

satoru decides that the two of you are going to go as miss americana and the heartbreak prince - and watches you meticulously collect fabrics and threads to make the pink dress you had in mind

you made it a point to also sew on the little broken heart for satoru's light pink shirt and white slacks that he was going to wear to the concert and buy the two of you matching gold crowns to wear together

“something is missing from my outfit, y/n.”   you frown, looking over at him as he fixes the little gold crown you got him on his white hair.  “what are you talking about? you look fine.”  satoru digs through your makeup box, rummaging around till he pulls out a tube of your red lipstick.  “you want to wear it, toru?”  “what? no. you put it on and then plant a bunch of kisses on my cheeks. so it leaves a mark.”  “oh?”  “IT’LL LOOK BETTER THAT WAY. I SAW SOMEONE ON TIK TOK DO IT.”  you roll your eyes as you lean forward in the mirror, blotting the buttery product on your lips and ignoring the devilish smile that satoru’s giving you in the mirror. and then you turn around and cup his face in your hands, making it a point to pepper long kisses on his cheeks and the side of his neck, making sure the full mark of your lips is left on his skin.  and when you’re done, he turns in the mirror and gives you a satisfied smile.  “perfect.”  “you’re so lame, satoru. if you wanted me to kiss you, you should have just asked.”  “can i have a kiss?”  “no.”  he leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, it being his turn to smother you in kisses, eliciting a laugh from you when his breath tickles your neck.  “shut up.”

type of mf to take BILLIONS OF PICTURES of you outside the concert and even more with you, until you both get ones you like

also, totally wears a stack of friendship bracelets that you made together, but only trades with other boyfriends and dads in solidarity

man stands for the entire concert with you, except during the man. because he knows his place.

you start SOBBING during lover and he's there just smiling at how SILLY you are and wiping your little tears away. you both sway to the song together and scream the bridge together.

he takes a picture of you doing the fearless heart with taylor in the back. bc duh.

speaking of, this dude is NOT recording taylor AT ALL he is recording you and taking pictures of you and it's literally the most wholesome thing ever

like you're just so excited and jumpy that he thinks its cute and he wants to document it

but then he's so inconsolable during tis the damn season and tolerate it that he's SCREAMING THE LYRICS with the passion of ten suns (he is an evermore stan, fight with the wall)

takes a video of you singing during enchanted (which he later makes his lockscreen)

fighting for his life during all too well. like everyone else.

your surprise songs are dear john and daylight - which you're both screaming together on the floor.

satoru is giving YOU the side eye when you scream DATE ME TAYLOR during vigilante shit chair moment.

mister man is blushing when you point at him when taylor sings karma is my boyfriend

carries you out of the concert bc he knows your feet are killing you.

and feeds you after. bc duh. post concert munchies at a fast food drive thru.

--

an, again: tee hee this was so silly but so fun to think about. and for a very niche audience AHAHHAHA. also it feels weird to use my taglist when this is for a VERY specific audience so I will ignore.

somehow didn't read this until it hit ao3 this week and OH MY GOD I devoured it.

This healed me after a long week!!!

- boyfriend's dad!joel masterlist -

dividers by @saradika-graphics

ao3 ♡ fic tag

status: ongoing pairing: joel miller x f!reader summary: moments between you and your boyfriend's father, joel miller, who you have a secret relationship with. no outbreak, no use of y/n. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 40s), daddy!kink, praise kink (use of babygirl), dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, oral (both f and m receiving), facials, creampies, cheating

safety

stress relief

quickie

snack break

prove it

words

wait

needy baby

reading this altered my DNA i am now a changed woman

Sharing is caring

✧ Logan Howlett x reader x Peter Parker

✧ summary: Your new teammate Peter Parker has a huge crush on you, and your boyfriend Logan has always wanted to watch someone else fuck you. It’s Peter’s birthday and Logan decides to share.

✧ warnings: smut 18+, mmf threesome, oral, unprotected piv, so much cum lol, Peter is very pathetic lmao (and not very experienced) and more of a sub, Logan is dominant and reader is dom-ish for Peter but sub-ish for Logan, little bit of say gex 😋 (oral, Logan receiving), pet names (my girl, good girl/boy, baby, bub), implied age gap (Peter is the youngest – didn’t mention a specific age but early 20s-ish, reader is a few years older, Logan is obv the oldest), Peter being a nerd, lots of teaching Peter (mostly how to go down on each other), also the fic starts with smut right away lol

✧ note: idek if anyone else is interested in this character constellation and needs it as much as i do but they’re my two biggest marvel crushes (in completely different ways) so i had to!!!!! like hellooo😵‍💫 and i really love this omg

✧ word count: 7.5k oops

-

You’re on top of Logan, riding him like your life depends on it. 

Logan’s so good in bed that you usually just let him pamper you; you both like it that way. It’s also what makes the times when you’re on top even more special. Your boyfriend is struggling not to cum in you yet, fingers indenting your hips where he’s grabbing you hard. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby, such a good girl,” he groans underneath you. 

You grin as you lean down to give him a sloppy kiss, pulling away before he’s done with you so you can resume bouncing up and down in his lap.

Logan slides his hand between your legs, beginning to rub your clit as he feels you clenching around him tighter. 

You’re so close.

You’re so fucked out that you barely register the door to your bedroom opening. 

“Hey, do you know if– oh god, sorry!” you hear Peter’s voice, and before you can catch a glimpse of him the door shuts with a bang.

It takes a few moments for your heartbeat to calm down and for you to realise what just happened. Peter walked in on you fucking your boyfriend. Innocent, nervous, adorable Peter Parker – new recruit at the mansion. You’ve only just barely befriended your new teammate and you’re not sure your friendship can handle him catching you like this.

You look down at Logan for the first time, only to see him smiling. 

“He did that on purpose,” he chuckles, hands still resting on your hips as if he’s ready for you to start right back up. You stay on top of him with his cock nestled deep inside you, pulsing, but you can’t get yourself to focus on the pleasure of it.

“He’d never do something like that on purpose. He’s way too innocent for that. He wasn’t meant to see us like that – I bet he’s traumatised!”

Logan laughs again, “Traumatised because he’s not the one fucking you maybe, sure.”

Your mouth hangs open at Logan’s accusation – Peter sees you as a friend, nothing more! You doubt he even thinks about sex, let alone about having sex with you. 

Rising to your knees, you let Logan slip out of you, his cock slapping against his abs with a dull, wet smack, a mix of his precum and your wetness smearing over his skin.

“What? We’re stopping cause of him?” Logan grabs your hand, “He’d get what he wants.”

“Logan,” you warn, somewhat seriously. He’s making Peter out to be someone he really isn’t.

He smiles, adjusting your hips so you’re hovering over him again, jerking his cock and positioning the tip at your entrance. You smile down at him – it’s hard to resist when he looks so good and your pussy is still wet and not yet satisfied.

“Peter did that on purpose, bub,” he repeats, breath becoming laboured as you sink down on him, “You’re not telling me you’ve been oblivious to his crush on you all this time, right?” 

You involuntarily clench your pussy around him, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face looking at him after that. But Logan’s smirking – you don’t have to open your eyes to know that; you can practically hear it. He jerks his hips under you, starting to fuck into you from below.

“Y’like that, baby? Spider-Man’s got a crush on my girl. You don’t know that?”

It almost feels like you’re cumming with how much wetter you get at his words, and you manage to open your eyes to climb off him properly this time, lying down next to him, burying your face into the pillow to hide.

“Noo,” you squeal, though it comes out muffled.

Logan slaps your ass, keeping his hand there to grab your flesh, “Uh-uh, baby. You can’t squeeze around my cock like that and then run away.”

You giggle, leaning up to look at him, “That was just because I was sitting on your big dick. It had nothing to do with Peter.”

“Suure, bub, sure. Can I keep fucking you then?”

You nod, scooting closer to him, both of you on your side. Logan hikes your leg over his hip and slowly thrusts into you as your limbs tangle together. He spits on his hand to rub your clit messily, the way he knows is enough when you were already this close to an orgasm just moments earlier.

“You’re the only one I want, Logan,” you tell him in a quiet voice, distracted by how good he feels inside you as he fucks you, playing with your puffy clit.

“I know that, baby, I know that. I know you’re my girl. My perfect, pretty girl. Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy that someone else has a crush on you. Can’t expect Peter to be blind.”

You cum around his cock then, moaning into his skin as he fucks you through your orgasm, filling you with his own load seconds later.

Logan drops the topic of Peter while you cuddle afterwards, and it’s hard to keep thinking about it when you’ve got your gorgeous, beefy boyfriend next to you, your hand buried in his hair as you massage his scalp the way you know he likes.

It’s when Logan says he’s going downstairs to get you some water that you remember Peter.

“Tell him I’m sorry if you see him.”

“Sure, bub,” Logan says dismissively, kissing your knee with a teasing grin as he gets off the bed. You suppose he’s right – you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s Peter’s fault for walking in without knocking.

But you can’t help but feel bad. He’s an adult, only a few years your minor, but he seems so innocent. He likes you – you can agree with that. He admires you; that much is obvious too, but you don’t know if calling it a crush is an exaggeration. If Logan is right and Peter has a crush on you, you’re sure it’s nothing sexual.

-

Logan can sense Peter from a mile away. Peter is pacing up and down in the kitchen. Logan smiles at the floor as he enters the room.

Spider-Man’s face is flushed – whether it’s from embarrassment or arousal, Logan can’t tell. But the bulge in Peter’s sweatpants assures Logan that he was right in his assumption in the first place. He turns to the sink to pour a glass of water to take upstairs, giving Peter the time to adjust himself.

“My girl says she’s sorry,” Logan says in amusement, turning around, “Didn’t mean for you to see us like that.”

“What? I– no, I’m sorry. I should have knocked,” Peter stammers.

“That’s what I told her.”

Peter doesn’t reply, having a stare contest with the floor so that he doesn’t have to meet Logan’s eyes.

Logan chuckles, “So why’re you in the kitchen and not in your bedroom?”

Peter doesn’t miss the sexual implication. “I feel bad.”

“What, you think people don’t jerk off thinking about their crush just because that person is in a relationship? It’s just in your head, bub, you can do what you want.”

Peter looks up. It’s not that he feels bad towards Logan; he feels bad towards you. But if Logan thinks that way and you’re his girlfriend, maybe that means you share his opinion. Peter is too lost in thought to reply to Logan.

“Suit yourself,” Logan says as he leaves the kitchen. 

-

“Did you see him?” you ask Logan when he comes back.

“Yeah, said he’s sorry, he should have knocked.”

“And he didn’t seem disturbed?”

Logan laughs out loud at your question, “No, baby, don’t worry. He’s not disturbed. His only problem seemed to be how hard he was.”

Your mouth falls open, “Really?”

“Maybe he’s not as innocent as you thought after all, bub,” Logan smirks, pulling you closer.

That revelation turns you on more than you care to admit, to yourself or to Logan.

-

It’s Peter’s birthday a few weeks later and he’s happy as long as he gets to spend it with you. 

He’s not expecting you to get him anything, but you get him a Lego set that he’s been wanting for months. It’s something he’s mentioned to you only in passing and he can’t believe that you remembered.

You make it so hard for him to see you only as a friend when you’re this attentive. To be fair, he’d probably fall in love with anyone who gives him Lego, but he already liked you before. If only your boyfriend wasn’t the most attractive, masculine man in the entire world who, even though Peter’s confident in his skills, could probably maim Peter without any effort at all.

He’s not sure if it’s true, but you’ve told Peter that Logan is busy today, so he can’t join you for Peter’s birthday lunch. He introduces you to his friends and his aunt that have come to his small celebration, and he fantasises that surely some of them must think you and him have a thing going on. May definitely gives him a look when she sees how gorgeous you are, but she already knows all about Peter’s hopeless crush on you.

You kiss Peter’s cheek when everyone leaves, letting him blush in peace as you go up to your bedroom. 

You told him you’d watch a film with him tonight but you seem to have forgot. It’s evening already and he wouldn’t want you to stay up too long for him if you watched the film later. Even if you did forget, he’s grateful he got to spend the day with you.

He’s about to bring his best gift – the one you gave him – upstairs and to his room.

“You like it?” Logan’s voice sounds behind Peter.

“I love it. I’ve wanted this for ages,” he grins.

“I’m glad you appreciate it. She made me threaten a twelve-year-old over it. It was the last set they had at the store.”

Peter grows even fonder of you. He knows he must be blushing, but he also knows there’s no point in hiding it – not since the night he walked in on you and Logan having sex. He’s been hoping Logan didn’t tell you about their run-in afterwards, although he knows he can be a little obvious regardless. It’s hard to hide a crush as big as the one he has on you.

Logan clears his throat, folding his arms, all those muscles bulging, “I’m not the best with material gifts but I’ve got something else for you.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s wary. Logan and him aren’t exactly friends. He wasn’t even expecting you to give him a gift.

“I know you wanna fuck my girl.”

Peter gulps at Logan’s directness, starting to stammer out a few words that make no sense.

“Y’don’t have to deny it. Can’t blame you, can I? You wanna live out your fantasy?”

Peter finds it hard to imagine that this isn’t a trap or some sick joke. “No–no, of course not. She’s your girlfriend and I’d never, I mean, she’d never cheat on you and I’d never try anything. I respect you so much–”.

Logan cuts him off, “Calm down, bub. This isn’t a trick. I’m asking if you wanna fuck my girl for your birthday. We both had the idea,” Logan smiles, and he doesn’t have to wait for a verbal answer to know that Peter wants it – the gleam in his eyes tells him enough, “C’mon. She’s waiting in your room.”

Peter abandons the Lego box on the floor. He couldn’t care less if some student found it and took it for themself. Peter’s on his way to better things.

-

Peter doesn’t let himself believe it until Logan opens the door to his bedroom, and there you are. You’re sitting on his bed – something Peter has imagined many times but never even dreamt of seeing in reality – in the most gorgeous set of lingerie he’s ever seen (not that he’s seen many in real life… or any).

“Hi,” he waves awkwardly, unsure whether to try and hide his growing erection. You’re half-naked only a few feet away from him, and this is better than all of his wet dreams about you combined.

You’re grinning, first at Peter and then at Logan, who closes the door behind Peter.

Logan takes a step forward to bend down and kiss you. It’s a short but sloppy kiss, Logan’s hand resting on your cheek. He looks back, chuckling at how desperate Peter must already look, and sits down in the chair near the bed.

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve made myself comfortable,” you bite your lip. Even your voice alone could make Peter cum.

“No no no, not at all. You look so gorgeous. I never thought I’d get to see someone look so sexy in real life.”

You giggle and it feels heavenly to be making you laugh like that. You lift your hand for him to take. He gasps when his hand touches yours, and you pull him to the bed with you. He feels like hyperventilating just from being so close to you in nothing but underwear. Peter wills himself to be strong; he can’t embarrass himself and cum right away.

“You know, Logan’s been trying to tell me for a while that you might have a tiny crush on me, and I didn’t believe it at first but…”

Peter laughs nervously before you can finish your sentence, but you don’t have to. Everyone in this room knows how much Peter likes you. All of Xavier’s school probably knows – teachers and students.

“Yeah,” Peter says weakly, cheeks hot.

 “Logan and I thought this could be a nice present for your birthday, if you want. Cause I think you’re cute too, and Logan doesn’t mind sharing me for one night.”

It hurts a little that you only find Peter cute, but he’ll take whatever he can get. Clearly he’s cute enough to fuck, and that’s all that really matters right now.

“Of course I want to, so what are we doing?” Peter doesn’t mean for it to come out so stupidly. He knows you’re going to have sex, he just doesn’t know the details.

“I’m gonna get you nice and hard first,” you say it with a smile, looking down at his lap, knowing exactly that he’s more than hard enough already, “and then Logan’s gonna join us and you can both fuck me at the same time. Does that sound alright?”

Peter grins. “More than alright. I don’t know if I’m gonna last long but I only need a few seconds before I can get hard again,” he tells you proudly, before he remembers that your boyfriend has healing abilities too, far more complex than Peter’s. You’re probably used to going endless rounds. Now he just feels a bit silly for admitting that he can’t last long. 

Peter turns to the side to face Logan. He’s manspreading, arms folded cockily in front of his chest, and it’s unnerving how a single person can ooze that much confidence. Although, if he looked like Logan and had a girlfriend like you, Peter’s sure he would be less insecure too.

“Have you had sex before?” you ask Peter all kindly, and he blushes thinking about the image of him you apparently have in your head. He’s not that experienced, but he’s not that innocent either.

“Yeah,” is all he manages to say at first.

“What have you done?” you ask him, gently resting your hand on his jaw, thumb trailing over Peter’s bottom lip. He stops himself from licking it.

“I’ve, uh, been inside of a woman before and I’ve, like, fingered her. My ex-girlfriend.”

You smile at the unnecessary piece of information, “That’s it? You’ve never had your dick sucked?”

Peter shakes his head, feeling like he’ll cum just from your words, “No, and I’ve never gone down on a woman.”

“You wanna?”

He nods his head so eagerly that it makes you giggle again.

“Maybe later,” you tell Peter, your hand dropping back to your lap.

“You can eat her pussy after I’ve cum in it,” Logan says with a smirk. You give him a look, turning to assure Peter.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do that.”

Peter looks between you two, “I don’t mind! I’m up for anything.”

You smile, moving to straddle him as you hum, “Good boy.”

He tenses underneath you, eyes screwed shut, and he can’t even enjoy the way he cums as soon as you settle on top of him, your hands on his shoulders. Hot embarrassment floods Peter’s body, and he feels like he might cry.

“Aw, it’s okay,” your voice is nothing but sweet with not even a hint of amusement, and Peter dares to open his eyes. Your face is inches away from his, and your closeness makes him feel less embarrassed.

“You like me that much, hm?” you continue, and Peter hears a quiet laugh from Logan, but he doesn’t care about his opinion, only yours, “I’m flattered you do. Glad you like your gift.”

“I really thought the lego set was my favourite present,” he says. This time he cracks a smile too as Logan and you giggle at his words.

“Let’s get you out of your clothes, okay?”

You get off Peter after he nods, pulling off his shirt. Peter stands up as you kneel in front of the bed to pull off his jeans, biting your lip when you feel how sticky his cum-stained boxers are.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby. So cute.”

Peter swears you’ll stop associating that word with him by the end of the night, although he’s starting to like you calling him that. He takes one glance at you on your knees for him, and he has to look away in fear of cumming again immediately. 

“I know,” Logan tells him, and Peter sees then how hard he already is too. Peter can’t believe Logan gets you like this every night, but for now he smiles at him as they silently bond over how attracted to you they both are. It’s impossible not to be.

Logan’s eyes drift down to Peter’s hard cock, and you’re grinning back up at your boyfriend, “Look how big he is, baby. Almost the same size as you.” The joy in your voice makes Peter stand a little bit taller. He’s proud that you like his dick. It’s probably the proudest moment of his life thus far.

You pull Peter back on the bed, sitting down as you lean back against your hands, “You wanna unwrap your present?”

Peter nods, smiling at the goosebumps that erupt on your flesh as he pulls at the ribbon that you’ve wrapped around your waist. He leans over to place it on his nightstand – he’s keeping that forever.

When he sits down in front of you, the sweet smell of you hits him. He looks between your legs, and there’s a wet spot on your panties. All because of him? He keeps feeling prouder and prouder.

“Thought about this so many times. Jerked off at least three times every single day since I walked in on you two.”

You and Logan smile at each other. He asks Peter, “You did that on purpose?”

Peter doesn’t turn to face Logan, the blush that has only just subsided flaring back up. “N-no. Of course not.” He knows neither of you believe his lie. He couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t worry. She liked it too,” Logan informs him, and Peter’s eyes go wide.

“You’re a handsome boy, Pete,” you shrug, brushing your hand through his hair and he hums at the nickname.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks finally, cock already so hard he can barely think, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“Go ahead,” Logan says, but Peter pays him no mind.

“I wasn’t asking you,” he says bravely, and your eyes go to those of your boyfriend as you raise your eyebrows.

“Told you he’s got it in him,” you say, pulling Peter close to press your plush lips to his. It’s like an explosion of endorphins, and Peter knows that from this moment on he can die happy. You pull him closer, kisses getting wetter as the sound of them takes over the room, and it’s the hottest thing Peter has ever experienced.

“Here,” you briefly pause, taking his hand and guiding it to the clasp of your bra at your back. He fiddles with it for a few seconds, and you want to give him a chance, but then the bed dips with the weight of Logan, and he opens your bra with ease.

Peter doesn’t know when he took his clothes off, but Logan is naked except for his boxers. He looks nowhere nearly as good as you, of course, but his muscles aren’t exactly an unwelcome sight.

“Isn’t my girl so pretty, Pete?” Logan asks, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms, taking off your bra.

“She’s gorgeous,” Peter rasps, “She’s perfect.” Logan hums in agreement.

Peter has imagined your tits too many times to count, and yet they’re even better than anything he’s fantasised about. He’s too nervous to touch you, but you take his shaky hands, putting them on your breasts.

“Oh my god,” Peter whispers, breathlessly cupping and squeezing at your tits as his cock leaks with precum. He sees you biting your lip as you look at his lap, and Logan takes Peter’s hands off your tits.

“Take off her underwear,” Logan commands as you smile at his words. You lift your hips, upper body leaning against Logan, and Peter pulls your panties down your legs. He throws them off the bed somewhere, hoping you won’t be able to find them again so that Peter can keep them forever.

He moans loudly when you spread your legs, and it’s a wonder that Peter doesn’t cum again just at the sight of your pussy. You’re perfect, and so wet, and he falls to his hands, in front of you on all fours.

“You want her mouth or her pussy first?” Logan asks, although you and him already know the answer.

“Wanna go down on you,” Peter says, unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy. You spread your legs further for him, and he looks up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You can,” you smile.

Peter inhales deeply when he squashes his face between your thighs, trying to burn the memory of how good you smell into his brain forever. 

He doesn’t have a technique, he just starts. You let out a soft moan when Peter licks up your entire pussy once; he moans too as he tastes you. He grabs your soft thighs, putting them over his shoulders as he lies down.

You give him a reassuring smile as he begins to eat you out, experimenting with different licks and kisses. You turn to your side to start kissing Logan, your hand holding his wrist as his arm drapes over your chest.

Peter licks greedily at your pussy, and you reach into Logan’s boxers to start stroking the hard length of him. Your hand is coated in his precum quickly, and he smiles into the kiss before he gently nips at your lip.

“You okay there, bub?” Logan pulls away to smirk at Peter. If you can still kiss Logan that well, then Peter isn’t doing a good job. You both look down to find Peter more focussed on grinding his cock against the bed rather than on eating you out. He blushes.

You reach out to touch his cheek, some of Logan’s precum from your hand wiping against Peter’s face, “you’re so cute.”

He doesn’t even register the word anymore.

“You want Logan to teach you?”

Peter nods, moving only minimally to make space for Logan next to him, both their wide shoulders knocking against each other’s (okay, Logan’s are slightly bigger). Logan huffs but doesn’t say anything, placing one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing your other knee up against your chest.

“Here’s how you do it,” Logan looks at Peter, bending down to press a sloppy kiss right against your clit, coating you in his spit before he begins to gently suck. You squirm immediately, and Peter can’t wait to try it out on you.

Logan pushes two fingers into your wet pussy, moving them in a way that you evidently like. Peter doesn’t know what to look at – your pretty face or your pretty pussy. Logan huffs next to him, “I know she looks good, kid, but you gotta focus if you wanna make her cum.”

Peter nods, watching Logan sucking on your clit and moving his fingers inside you.

“You can use your fingers to fuck her,” he explains.

“I know,” Peter says, his tone perhaps a little more petulant than what he was aiming for, “I just hadn’t gotten her consent to do that yet, so I didn’t.”

You smile at him, “you can do whatever you want to me, Pete.”  

And that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear in his life.

Logan nods at him, sitting back up, and Peter gets between your legs. He knows he’s got it easier now because Logan had his mouth on you for a bit, but it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Logan is like an old man with loads of experience, and he probably gets to fuck you every night, so he has an unfair advantage.

Your boyfriend gets next to you, kissing you – and it’s all sensual and passionate and wet and Peter can’t help but stare for a few moments. Logan starts touching your tits, groping you and moving to gently play with your nipples.

You pull away from the kiss, a string of spit hanging between your and Logan’s mouth, “Pete?” you ask softly, but Peter can hear some desperation in your voice. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

First, he quickly licks your pussy just to get that heavenly taste in his mouth again, then settles on a more precise movement of his tongue. He circles your clit, hearing you sigh against Logan’s mouth, but Peter isn’t sure if he’s the one who evoked that sound.

He slides two fingers into your pussy, curling them how Logan showed him to. He’s stopped moving his mouth, too concentrated on looking at your face to see a reaction.

“That’s it, Peter, don’t stop,” you moan, pushing his head back down and he happily wraps his lips around your clit, fucking you gently with his fingers.

“Yeah, baby, he’s got you,” Logan says into your neck, “You’ve got her, right, Peter?” he asks all smugly.

“Mhhmmm,” Peter squeaks without taking his mouth off you, and the vibration of his voice seems to make you squirm a bit more. He decides to let himself moan the way he’s been wanting to the entire time, subtly grinding his hips into the bed beneath him as he eats you out and fucks you with his fingers.

You cum with a cry that makes Peter even prouder than he’s been all night, and he thinks he’ll savour the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head for the rest of his life. He pushes his tongue into your pussy to taste as much of your arousal as he can, stopping when he feels your and Logan’s eyes on him.

“Did such a good job,” you tell him, and he grins proudly. He gets on his knees to lean up and kiss you. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his heart skips a beat at the way you smile into the kiss. He’s in heaven.

“You wanna fuck me now?” you ask, and Peter’s eyes go wide as he sits up and gets back between your thighs.

“And I want you too,” you smile up at your boyfriend, pulling at the waistband of his boxers. Peter has no idea how Logan has this much self-restraint, watching as he gets off the bed and takes off his boxers with a grin. Peter sees how you drool at the sight of Logan’s big dick, and Peter feels his own mouth watering. 

“Here you go, baby. Gonna be a good girl for me, right? Gonna take my cock? You been waiting for this, hm?” Logan kneels next to you. He holds his cock over your face, lightly slapping the tip against your lips. Peter’s cock pulses against his abs. 

You nod wordlessly, wrapping your lips around your boyfriend’s huge cock. You pull off him only to spit on it, jerking off the lower half of him that’s harder to fit in your mouth. 

The wet sounds coming from you sucking Logan’s cock make Peter’s dick twitch as he spills a new load of precum. It lands on your thigh, getting your attention. 

Peter doesn’t know how you can spare a single moment away from Logan’s cock, but you pull your mouth off him, “You can start if you’re ready,” you smile at Peter. Both of you watch him as he pushes his cock inside you. 

Your warm, velvety walls suck his cock in unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he just stays like that for a few moments, the sound your mouth makes around Logan’s cock doesn’t make it easier for Peter. Even if you don’t seem to mind him cumming fast, he’s trying to prevent it, feeling so close again already.

He hears Logan huff out a laugh, and Peter opens his eyes. You’ve stopped going down on your boyfriend, looking at Peter all sweetly.

“It’s okay if you cum quickly, I did too at the start,” Logan confesses. It’s hard to imagine him – the epitome of virility – not being able to last long, even with someone as perfect as you, but it makes Peter feel better about himself, by a lot.

“I really don’t mind it, Pete,” you smile, and Peter nods. He looks down towards where you’re joined, your pussy stuffed with his cock. Even though you’re used to something even bigger, there’s an obvious strain, and you’re squeezing around him hard even when he’s not moving.

You and Logan watch as Peter starts to fuck you, your hand on your boyfriend’s cock, lazily jerking him off. Logan doesn’t seem to mind watching Peter pushing into you slowly. The two pairs of eyes make him feel more self-conscious, yet it’s also invigorating.

Peter clumsily rubs at your clit, at least attempting to focus on something other than how good he feels.

“You’re so tight, feel so good,” he mumbles, and you seem like you’re enjoying it too, back arched and hand faltering around Logan’s cock. You’re too distracted by Peter.

“Don’t stop,” you say quietly, evidently not there yet but Peter’s sure you feel good.

You share an intimate smile with Logan, and he tells Peter, “Doin’ a really good job with my girl. This is the only thing, bub..”

Logan tries to hide his smile as he grabs Peter’s hand to guide his fingers back to your clit from where they’d drifted off to your thigh, where he’d just been holding you. Peter’s cheeks turn red – or maybe they’ve been red the entire time – as he goes back to playing with your clit.

He doesn’t notice it, but a few seconds later he stops touching your clit again, too distracted by how good your pussy feels. Logan shoves his hand between your legs instead, making you moan as soon as he starts rubbing your clit in circles.

Your pussy spasms around Peter’s cock as you orgasm, and he can practically feel the pleasure flowing through you.

“Can I cum inside you?” The question comes too late to wait for an answer so Peter pulls out, cumming all over your belly in sticky ribbons as he jerks off desperately.

You bite your lip when he’s done, humming as you take some of Peter’s cum off your belly, pushing your finger between your lips. “Tastes so good,” you tell Peter, “Taste it.” 

You swipe some more on your finger, bringing your hand up to Peter’s face as you put your finger in his mouth. He wraps his lips around it hesitantly, smiling shyly when he tastes his own saltiness. Logan’s watching him too, cock still hard.

You gently nudge Peter’s head down towards your belly, and he smiles at you sweetly as his lips glide over your skin and he begins to lick up his own cum.

“Don’t swallow it all,” you say, your hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He nods obediently, keeping his mouth closed when he’s licked your skin clean.

“Here,” you open your mouth for him, pulling him up to your face. His eyes go wide when he realises what you want him to do, and he holds your chin as he spits his cum into your mouth. 

He was starting to worry a little because, even though he knows he has no problem getting hard after a first orgasm, it’s been a while since he’s gone three times in a row. But now his dick is so hard again that it almost hurts.

You stick out your tongue, showing Peter and Logan the cum mixed with your spit in your mouth. “Come taste him,” you look up at Logan with the sexiest smile anyone has ever smiled, and Peter feels his cock flex as he somehow gets even harder.

Logan rolls his eyes playfully, bending down to kiss you nevertheless. Some of Peter’s cum runs down your chin, and Logan pulls away from the kiss to lick it up. Peter thinks he really should start training his stamina with how close he is again just from this.

You still don’t swallow when Logan stops kissing you. “Come here,” you tell Peter, and he kneels next to you so you have him and Logan at either side, their dicks hard. You sit up a little, spitting the rest of Peter’s cum into your hand as you reach for Logan’s cock, starting to jerk him off. 

He gives you a fake annoyed look at you using Peter’s cum as lube, but it’s obvious he likes it, and it makes Peter reach out to his own cock to give it a few strokes – he can’t help himself.

“Haven’t made you cum yet,” you peer up at Logan, who puts a reassuring hand on your cheek.

“You know I don’t mind watching you two, bub,” he says, and your wide smile hints that Logan has told you something slightly different in private. He doesn’t just mind it, he loves it. Peter gets why Logan might find that hard to admit in front of someone else, something about conventions and possessiveness, but he’s glad that Logan decided to share. He’s glad that you want him.

You wrap your lips around Logan’s cock again. While you suck his cock, you stop Peter’s hand on his cock, jerking him off instead. You pull your lips off Logan, turning to suck Peter’s dick.

You switch between them a few times, the taste of their precum mixing in your mouth and dripping down to their balls when you suck their dicks. Peter particularly enjoys this, awaiting his turn eagerly every time. The head of his cock is swollen with lust against the inside of your cheek, and you turn to him to focus on him fully, letting him get lost in the feeling of fucking your warm, wet mouth.

You put your hand on Logan’s hip, guiding him down the bed. He smirks as he gets between your thighs, watching you suck another man’s cock as he starts to fuck you. He goes slowly first, letting you adjust to his size as you moan around Peter’s dick.

Logan watches Peter’s eyes flutter shut at the vibration of your voice. Logan knows you’re not just moaning because of him inside you though.

“You like that, baby, hm? Like sucking Peter’s cock?” you don’t take your mouth off him, but your sparkling eyes meet Logan’s. It’s a look of understanding. 

Logan is ready to cum, but he tries to draw it out. He can go endless rounds but the first orgasm is always the best. He wants to savour it, save it for a bit longer. He focusses instead on making you cum, fucking against your g-spot, almost making you see stars.

You moan around Peter’s cock when you cum again, and Logan almost submits, but he’s able to fuck you through your orgasm without cumming. Peter spills into your mouth as your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him deeper down your throat.

“Such a good girl,” Logan praises you until your pussy stops pulsing with an orgasm, and you give him a fucked out smile as Peter pulls his cock out of your mouth.

“My girl,” Logan adds, kissing you, and you sigh against his lips in pleasure.

You sit up to grab the water bottle from the side of Peter’s bed and take a sip. You pass it to Peter and Logan afterwards, and you don’t move back between them once you’ve put the bottle away, so they’re facing each other.

You sit on your knees, looking between them as they’re impatiently waiting for you to come back, both their cocks standing hard and proud against their abs.

You bite your lip, “Are you into men, Pete?”

Peter’s heart misses a beat and then happily continues drumming against his chest as he nods eagerly, although he’s not sure why it matters right now.

You share a brief silent exchange with Logan before your next words. “So is Logan,” you nod towards your boyfriend. You wait for them to catch on to what you’re saying, but Peter is too shy to and Logan is still contemplating. This wasn’t a part of the plan, but he can’t say he’s against it. He just didn’t know you wanted to see him with another man the way he wants to see you with one.

“Um, what now?” Peter asks with a nervous smile, ready to please.

You fight the urge to simply answer now you kiss, “You think you two are the only ones that get a show?”

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your suggestion before they brighten. A shy yet excited smile takes over his features.

“You sure, baby?” Logan asks you. You bite your lip, nodding slowly. Logan smirks, because he knows that exact look and you haven’t been quite this horny all night yet.

“Only if you want to as well,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need to answer.

“This okay for you, bub?” Logan lowers his voice as he speaks to Peter. 

He replies through an eager nod, “yeah.” The word comes out as a whisper.

Logan smirks as he leans in, gently placing his big hand around Peter’s throat. He’s not squeezing, just holding him in place. You didn’t mind Peter being all squirmy when you kissed him, but Logan wants to keep him still.

You watch their cocks rub against each other’s abs as they get closer, strings of spit connecting their lips as they make out, tongues tangling in desperation.

It’s sloppy, the way they kiss, and you could watch them forever.

Logan pulls his lips from Peter’s with a wet sound, firmly patting his cheek, “Now get on your knees, bub.”

The command makes even your knees buckle, and you watch Peter happily drop to the carpet, kneeling between Logan’s spread legs as he moves to the edge of the bed. He beckons you over to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a messy kiss to your mouth.

You know he’s close now, having denied himself an orgasm this long.

Peter wraps a greedy hand around the base of Logan’s cock, leaning in to press a few kisses to his dick. You and Logan watch him, you pulled closely against his side.

“You want me to show you what to do?” you ask Peter after a while of him not doing anything but kissing and licking. Peter nods quickly, “yes please,” and you kiss him after you sit down next to him, tasting your boyfriend’s precum and some of your own arousal on him.

“Think he’s almost there,” you tell Peter as you look up at Logan through your lashes, and he smirks.

“That’s not a problem,” Peter says quickly.

“Here, you can use your tongue,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around Logan’s cock as you take him into your mouth, tongue wet against the underside of him, “try it.”

You keep holding Logan’s cock as you pull off him, angling it towards Peter’s face. His face is flushed as he takes Logan’s dick in his mouth for the first time, sucking on the tip.

“That’s it, doing so good,” you brush your thumb over Peter’s cheek where it bulges when he takes Logan deeper. Your and Logan’s eyes on him make him nervous, and he pulls off to kiss you instead.

You make out with him for a few moments, letting him kiss you greedily and wetly, before you guide your mouths back to Logan’s cock. You and Peter part only minimally as you kiss either side of Logan’s dick, spit running down from your mouths to his balls as you share him.

“Feels so good,” Logan mumbles, all blissed out, watching his perfect, pretty girlfriend share his cock with another guy.

You see how close he is, slowly pulling your mouth off him and leaning your cheek against his knee as you watch Peter take your boyfriend’s cock into his mouth all by himself.

“Attaboy,” Logan says, placing a hand on the back of Peter’s head when he goes deeper, spit falling from his lips.

“Juuust like that,” you add, your praise spurring Peter on. Logan’s other hand goes to your cheek, absent-mindedly brushing over it with his finger as he holds your face.

Peter gets more confident when Logan’s breath stutters. He moans on Logan’s cock as he takes him as deep as he can, the wet sound from his mouth obscene. 

Logan’s hips jerk as his cock twitches in Peter’s mouth, and he cums down his throat in warm, sticky ropes of his load.

“Good boy,” Logan softly ruffles Peter’s hair when he’s done, and you lean in to kiss Peter, some of your boyfriend’s cum still fresh on his lip.

“Doesn’t my boyfriend taste good?” you ask against his lips, hardly breaking the kiss. You can hear the slick of spit and cum on Logan’s cock already as he jerks off again, to the sight of you two making out with his cum between you.

“He does,” Peter mumbles against the skin of your jaw, kissing down your neck.

“He tastes better than me?” you tease.

“No– no, you taste better than anything in the world.” And Peter means it.

-

You’re not done until hours later; you fuck until it’s the middle of the night. Earlier, Peter was ready to forgo his birthday movie night just so you can go to sleep on time, but he got something much better, even if it means you stayed up late for him. He can’t say he feels too bad.

Peter is tucked in, you and Logan at either side as you send each other loving glances over Peter’s head. You’re stroking Peter’s hair, basically cuddling him with how close you are.

“Hope you liked your present,” you tell him, pressing one last kiss against his lips as you smile at his sleepy expression.

“Best birthday ever,” Peter mumbles, before he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

-

P.S. reblog + let me know your thoughts and Logan and Peter will appear in your bed tonight 🩷🫣

For every person who thinks you're "too quiet" there's one who thinks you're an amazing listener. For every person who thinks you're "too clingy" there's one who loves how much and how openly you care about others. For every person who thinks you're "too weird" there's one who admires how you dare to stand out from the crowd. For every person who thinks you're "too sensitive" there's one who respects you for being so in touch with your feelings. For every person who thinks you're "too confident" there's one who thinks your self respect is an inspiration. What's a negative trait in one person's eyes might be exactly what someone else is looking for. It's not black or white.

– via compassionatereminders

"she was a love letter girl in a double-tap world."

~ unknown

“POLKA DOTS AND MOONBEAMS” ── steve rogers x male reader.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓— headcanon [ 4.1k ] 〳 part one 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 mid-century!era 〳 'roommates' 〳established relationship 〳 secret husband!steve 〳 mentions of period-homophobia 〳 brief quarreling 〳 sexual content: top!steve, bottom!reader, love-making, breeding, milking, praising, verbal, dirty talk, body worshiping, guidance.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who coasted the city and was on a mission to find the best spaghetti and meatballs with you.

‣ "Verdict?"

‣ Steve's gaze looked right past the fork held before your lips, watching your mouth and expression twist and turn like the spaghetti noodles around the fork prongs prior.

‣ "It's good... not great. The sauce isn't as thick as I'd like for it to be... but it tastes fresh? Basil leaves adds a nice balance to the acidity... but the meatballs are a little overcooked. What do you think, Steve? I'm too picky, aren't I?"

‣ It was written all over your face. Satisfied, but not impressed.

‣ Unlike the last restaurant where you two had the misfortune of eating bloated pasta noodles and watery red sauce, this place was edible and especially generous with their serving.

‣ Decent, if Steve had the chance of writing a one-worded review for the paper.

‣ "You're not picky, just particular, but I agree. Red sauce is good—Padrino's still better. Meatballs are pretty tough, aren't they... but I do like the flavor of them. You can tell they used a fattier mixture compared to the rest. A lot of garlic too, which makes up for the lack of it in the sauce..."

‣ "Not as good as Mama's?"

‣ "The moment we find a spaghetti that's as good as your mother's, is the day we find a way to squeeze water from stone, (M/N)."

‣ "Don't mention that to her. I don't need her ego to be any more inflated than it already has been."

‣ Dates like these were never boring.

‣ No matter how many times Steve had watched your face wrench in disdain or light up in surprise, he always found it a joy to watch you participate in this arbitrary—now routinely—idea of critiquing spaghetti and meatballs so earnestly.

‣ To be fair, it wasn't like you two had a slew of options to make dates seem... more like dates.

‣ In fact, there shouldn't have been any options offered on the table in the first place.

‣ Any intimations that you and Steve were on a date would've been subject to a location change.

‣ Most likely, a candle-lit dinner in a jail-cell, dined over cold hard concrete, and Steve was sure the spaghetti and meatballs served there was going to clutch last place in his ranking.

‣ Though, Steve was hopeful that the romance would still be alive and well had it ever come to that point.

‣ You had a thing for restaurants with a gimmick.

‣ "Seven out of ten sounds about right?"

‣ "What about dessert? We can't leave without getting the tiramisu, Steve."

‣ "Since when did we factor in desserts for the scoring?"

‣ "What—since we started. Don't tell me you've been only ranking the spaghetti and meatballs... it's all about the experience, the... the je ne sais quoi—heard that on the radio once!"

‣ "The je ne sais quoi—this is why I wanted you to be the one logging everything down, (M/N)!"

‣ It took more of a toll on him than it did on you.

‣ Well, if it did, then you did a stunning job at maintaining your usual optimism.

‣ Whenever you two were out in public, Steve felt hammered by this distance pushing him apart.

‣ It was a conscious effort on both ends—a natural one that pertained to the business of being in a homosexual relationship

‣ Or just being a homosexual, period.

‣ Steve understood it. He abode it. And he hated it.

‣ Often, when the conversation between you and him would come to a slow, Steve would look right past your shoulder, right at the lucky couple who were in his sight-line—a gentleman with an impressive mustache and his lady—and simply stare.

‣ His thoughts wandered.

‣ The gentleman was unabashed in his public flirtations with the woman.

‣ Massaging her hands, tending to the aches in her knuckles with firm, but appeasing presses.

‣ The smell of his cigar was pervasive, but the lady didn't seem to mind. It seemed like she thought it was rather charming when he blew a smoke towards her face.

‣ One hand would run up her arms in several strokes, rough callous grinding down her goosebumps, and the man would compliment how soft and supple her skin was.

‣ The lady would bat her eyelashes, giggle at the man's public display of affection whilst also maintaining some sense of courtesy to halt his advances when a pair of curious eyes were enough to render her cheeks scarlet—like the lipstick she had worn for the evening.

‣ Steve hated this restraint. This lack of freedom that forced him to talk to you as if you were his co-worker.

‣ To look at you as if he had no affection for you whatsoever when that was further from the truth.

‣ To touch you as if you were an infection that could cost him his life, and him to yours.

‣ That wasn't completely off from what society thought of people like you and Steve, was it.

‣ "It's not nice to stare, Steve... quit it."

‣ "If I can't even look at my own lov—you, what else am I supposed to do?"

‣ "Steve—come on, not now. You know how it is. It's hard, I know. But... we can't just be cooped up in our pad and wear out its virtues. It's nice to go out every once in a while, even if—it has to be like this."

‣ "It's just not—fair. Maybe—maybe we can do something. It doesn't feel right if we're doing nothing about those bar raids too. They're increasing, you know? Becoming more violent and—"

‣ "Hush. People are staring to look."

‣ "Why do you seem completely fine with this? Hiding ourselves—"

‣ "Look, I don't like it as much as you do. Hell, it's killing me on the inside that I can't even smile at you like how it would naturally come. But I'm okay with hiding—because it's for my safety, and most importantly, for yours. I don't ask for much, but I've envisioned the near end of my life to be fulfilled and labored with no regrets. With a house where I can harvest my own apples from my own tree. With a lazy pup that knows better than to eat through my laces. All of that would be possible because I hid—no—because I endured. And I would heavily prefer it if you would join me in that life. Call me a coward, spineless, or selfish, but I don't want it to be our last, Steve. It's terrifying—to know that any day I could lose you to violence and persecution, myself included. So, please—just hold it out for longer—that's all I ask of you."

‣ Most of all, Steve hated that he was envious.

‣ He wished he could be the one wiping sauce stain off your lips.

‣ He wished that he could hold your hand over the table and stroke the ring on your finger that you could've kept on.

‣ He wished that he could stop the tears from welling in your eyes like he often did back at home.

‣ He wished that he could tell you that he loved you, either with a mouthful of meatballs or none at all, because in the end—it would've felt better than communicating those three words with three taps of his foot to your shin.

‣ You nearly reached over for his hand to calm him down, but pulled your back straight upon the fright of a passing waiter and opted for the cipher that was could only be cracked between you and Steve.

‣ Three gentle kicks to his shin, once more to his other leg, and Steve sighed for pardon, returning the cipher gently to your own shin.

‣ He wished he could openly compliment how handsome his husband looked tonight, ramble how grateful he was to have you in his life, or complain about how you kicked him a little too hard, but that was all well and fine because it meant that you were still present.

‣ Freedom—All of it, the positives and negatives, without the looming threat of a policeman pummeling you and Steve with a nightstick afterwards—because that was normal.

‣ Because that was life.

‣ A life that will pay in the long run.

‣ "Check, please."

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who ambled the misty street of Brooklyn Heights with you, the night dew giving everything a hazy look as you and Steve passed through moist air, side-by-side.

‣ "I was brash tonight, Steve. I apologize."

‣ "No, no... you were right. If anything, I was being a fat head. I was out-of-line. I'm sorry."

‣ "You were right too, you know. It's not fair. It's not that I don't want to do anything about it, I really do. I just—it can't be the two of us tackling something bigger than us. Everyone is petrified, Steve."

‣ "I know... but if we somehow all come together in some kind of union, then maybe—we can call for a difference. Show them that enough is enough. Show them that fear is no longer something they can instill in us."

‣ "Like a rebellion or something?"

‣ "Well, if it has to come to that, then so be it."

‣ "You know a guy, don't you..."

‣ "I know a guy."

‣ "Is it Bucky?"

‣ "What—how'd you know?"

‣ "Steve, you only know one guy."

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who was detoured into a dark alleyway between business building blocks. There was the droning sound sound of night, the low and humming resonant as the city had fallen asleep, all but two guests.

‣ "(M/N), what are we—"

‣ "All that quarreling made me forget to tell you how dashing you looked tonight. You know I especially like your hair combed back like that, Steve-o."

‣ He didn't need much of a hint as to what you were getting at.

‣ Squeezing in between a narrow passageway that would luckily only admit two bodies at a time, you and Steve were obscured from any wandering eyes.

‣ From judgement of the world.

‣ "Steve, you ought-ta listen to me more. Blue polka dots look darling on you."

‣ "If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted me to wear a pink tie, darling."

‣ "Pink would've made me sauced my pants..."

‣ "You. Are. So. Vulgar."

‣ Shadows cast over his squashed body against yours, the moonlight only lighting the parts that mattered the most right now.

‣ The laughter that left your mouth after each peck Steve would grace you with.

‣ The lips that had him feeling withdrawal symptoms after an unbearable few hours of watching you lick sauce off your lips.

‣ The hand that tug Steve closer by his tie.

‣ The eyes that drew Steve in closer, until the tip of his nose touched yours.

‣ "Have I told you how much I love my cologne on you, darling?"

‣ "Have I told you how much I prefer your cologne rubbing off on me, as opposed to me spraying it on directly?"

‣ Slowly, breathing, pacifying; Steve's invisible stubble made your mouth twitch with a scratch, one of your many quirks he found himself silently obsessing over.

‣ And that was enough to push him over the edge, and finally kiss you like he'd wanted to since the evening had started.

‣ It was slow, almost careful like Steve was afraid of breaking you.

‣ Steve wasn't expecting this self-restraint from you. He wasn't expecting your hands on his jaw, tenderly massaging at either sides to keep your hands preoccupied while he slid his tongue alongside yours.

‣ He wasn't expecting to hear his own pulse because you were so stubborn in maintaining this control—you refused to summon urgency by vaulting your moans into the back of your throat.

‣ But Steve knew you more than he knew himself. He knew how you liked your eggs in the morning. He knew the perfect temperature for your bath. He knew you from the mole on your back, to the stance when you were impatient.

‣ He knew that if he led one of your hands right here—feeling the cusp of his growing bulge—that you'd give Steve what he wanted, and fall completely apart.

‣ And Steve knew that—by the eager palm of your hand, shoving into his unbuckled pants and groping—he was right.

‣ "Steve—just fuck me right here, yeah? I can't take it anymore."

‣ "Honey, we don't have any slick..."

‣ "Then give it to me raw. Use your spit. The rain. I don't care, I need you—"

‣ Your lips were warm and soft when Steve kissed you from rambling into the void again. His hands were against your stomach and chest, and your moans sent shivers down his spine.

‣ "Christ—turn around."

‣ Against the brick wall, teeth sinking into your forearm, you took Steve in without any regrets. Cold sweat breaking over your skin like evening dew collecting on window sills.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—slowly, Steve—"

‣ You could feel Steve's heart beat against your back, pushing further into you, huffing into your neck.

‣ "I love you."

‣ "I love you."

‣ From then on, you and Steve lived without any regrets.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who relished every inch of your body; with his eyes, with his mouth, with his hands, with his body, with his being—until you found yourself transported wholly to all different kinds of sensations, and he'd repeat to discover new ones for you.

‣ "You're good at this, you know."

‣ "Humor me?"

‣ Steve was mouthing at your inner thigh, one hand stroking your leaking cock, and the other pumping his Vaseline-slicked fingers into you.

‣ He looked up from his eyelashes, teasing your sack with a lick.

‣ Another lick, because he liked being distracted by your body arching off the bed, crinkling the sheets in the process.

‣ "Good at loving me. You know what I want, what I need—just like that. Putting another finger into me without asking of me if you can. Twisting—fuck—turning me out, all based on how my body responds to you."

‣ "Well, it's not difficult to gauge what you need. Your nails dig into the sheets when it's too much. Your fingers and toes curl when the pleasure's coming in. Your hips roll—when you need more, or a new fix. I'm no magician you're making me out to be, (M/N).

‣ "You notice all of that? That's embarrassing... and here I thought I was being alluring..."

‣ Steve layered his thick cock in slick, capping the tin and tossing it to the bedside counter after.

‣ He teased your prepped rim, observing how the ring of muscle would catch a string of his pre-cum and latch onto it with a clench.

‣ At the sound of your moan, at the sight of you toying with your nipples, at the torn decision between preening—you knew that he liked the sight of you biting your lips—and ceasing his taunts.

‣ Steve's cock veins pulsed, his cock pleading for him to fill that delicious hole before him, otherwise it would live in agony for as long as it could leak.

‣ "I do, and it's not embarrassing. I love how you—mm—like that. I love how you immediately wrap your arms and legs around me when I finally push my cock inside of you.

‣ "Oh, Steve—"

‣ "I love how you call my name, just like that. Say it again."

‣ "Steve..!"

‣ He pressed his forehead against yours and groaned with you. His hips racketed off your ass in a slow, but increasing rhythm.

‣ You held onto him, hands over his neck, anchoring him close until the only way you could have your fix of air was through Steve's lips.

‣ Steve's mind was empty, except for the thought of your hot tongue roaming into his mouth and the swelling grasp your walls had around his loving cock.

‣ "Like that... I love how I can decipher every meaning behind the way you call out to me."

‣ "Fill me up so well, Steve—baby. Can feel you deep inside of me. Ruining me with your cock. Your balls slapping against me, God—Steve!"

‣ Your moans tasted delicious on his tongue. If they were seeds, they'd bloom colorful hybrids of fruits because your love for him couldn't be defined by one singular hue.

‣ You were an array of colors—a prism conjured by the way Steve loved you.

‣ Red, because you were gritting your teeth as Steve had you taking him balls-deep, filling you up to the brim, and stretching you to the shape of his pistoning cock.

‣ "Fuck me harder, Steve—"

‣ "You're taking me so well, darling..."

‣ "When have I not?"

‣ Orange, because Steve rendered you speechless except for a few gasps, with his cock grazing your prostate and his hand over your cock, stroking while kissing at your neck.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—oh, fuck!"

‣ Yellow, because you were on top, straddling Steve's lap and yielding to the nearing high that you both had been gauging.

‣ You took your sweet time to make love to Steve with your body. Hands braced on his chest, combing your fingers through the light hairs, deeply rocking back and forth on his cock after a couple of lighthearted bounces.

‣ You marveled over his well-built body, following the contours of his muscles with one hand while silently admiring his broad chest, perky nipples, and wide shoulders with your tongue.

‣ The smell of aftershave on him was infectious when you came up for a brief kiss. You kissed at his lips, then his chin, licking at the short blades of stubble before pulling away to preen again.

‣ Your back straightened and you spread your thighs apart for Steve to get a good look at how hard he was making you.

‣ Your cock throbbed, swollen a pronounced shade at the tip, bouncing to the rhythm of your hips, all while you devoted your mouth and tongue to Steve's thick fingers, suckling and laving your tongue over every digit, every vein, every knuckle—thanking him for opening you up so well with the slick of your saliva.

‣ Steve was absolutely keen on watching you worship him with one hand tucked behind his head, the other stroking your cock when he would finish appraising your body with a couple of fond strokes.

‣ "God, look at you. You're so beautiful. I could do this all day, watching you ride every vein on my cock..."

‣ Green, because you built up enough energy to reverse your straddle and take the lead for once. You wanted Steve to see all parts of your body, especially the asset that had been drawing out those glorious moans deep from his gut.

‣ You knew it was a pretty sight that would teeter Steve closer to the edge.

‣ Sweat ran over the plump mounds of your ass as you were propped up on your forearms, slamming down onto his thick cock.

‣ Skin rippled when your ass repeatedly hit his groin, and then prickled, when Steve grabbed a handful of your sweaty flesh out of pure enchantment before swatting it as a stimulus to your slowing hips.

‣ "How's the view?"

‣ "Stunning..."

‣ Blue, because your body was covered in shivers from the way Steve had captured you into his arms and pummeled icicles into you from behind.

‣ Kneeling upright, Steve had embraced you tightly, supporting your core with a flat palm while simultaneously engaging his, thrusting into you.

‣ His hand was around your throat to feel every vibration that would squeeze from your throat and then pour into his mouth like a saucer of milk as he swallowed your sweet moans.

‣ Like Steve's cock, his other hand was equally uncompromising. He squeezed into the pulsating veins of your cock, stroked your shaft, and teased your glans with a thumb.

‣ When you sank back into the dip of his hips, Steve would propel you forward with a strong thrust, forcing you to fuck his closed fist in midst as he held you from ever retreating back on all fours.

‣ He loved that dazed look on your face. Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Flushed like how you were abashed by his compliments to your novice cooking, yet only a hundred times worse.

‣ He also loved the way he had fucked you into being inarticulate, muttering a slurry of words—warnings of you coming soon, Steve would later learn after turning his ears up.

‣ "Steve, stop, stop—I'm going to c-come—seriously—"

‣ "Come for me, (M/N). I want to see you stain the bed. Want to see you come because of me. Only me. Want you to drench my fist and—Christ, there we go..."

‣ Violet, because you were red, and Steve was blue.

‣ You spilled heavily over his fist, shooting large, thick ropes of cum over the bed sheets. The sound of the cum splatters making your cheeks run hotter than the warmth drawing out of you.

‣ Each spurt shot further and further the harder Steve pounded into you and milked your orgasm with unrelenting strokes to your shaft.

‣ His thighs slapped into yours, resonating the bedroom with a sharp thunder that was sure to wake up the tenants.

‣ His cock punctuated deep into your guts, hard and sweet against your prostate.

‣ You cried out as Steve battered your insides with his cock, with his undying love for you. Biting into your shoulder to contain his groans, but Steve had enough of this restraint, of constantly holding himself back.

‣ He growled behind your ear, filtering out the resentment society had instilled in his body as he let his grunts loose, replacing that bitter feeling with the antithesis of knowing that he wanted to live life to the fullest.

‣ With a house that grew oranges alongside your apples.

‣ Steve thrusted harder.

‣ With an indifferent cat that couldn't care less about your torn shoelaces.

‣ Your moans hitched at the sharp snap of his hips, his cock digging somehow deeper into your guts when he pushed you lower into his groin.

‣ With a fulfilling life that was lived without regret.

‣ Steve felt himself come undone upon the last thrust. Every fiber of his muscle unraveling like pointe shoes after intense wear.

‣ He held you tight as he shuddered against your, his pulse anchored and soothed by the palm of your head on his cheek, stroking him affectionately.

‣ Silken white, he spilled his hot seed deep inside of you, weakly propagating the warmth from the outer rim of your raw, swollen hole, then to the deep depth of your walls and prostate, milking himself until he was jelly in the legs, until you were creamed, from inside and out, with his thick cock.

‣ You and Steve shared one more kiss, another breath, heaving and panting like you two had never kissed before, before his stance eventually gave out and made him collapse over your body.

‣ "Think—I might bump the restaurant earlier up a few spots, (M/N)..."

‣ "Why's that?"

‣ "Must've put some kind of aphrodisiac in that spaghetti... I'm deeply spent."

‣ "I disagree. It must've been that couple! I told you it was all about the experience—that je ne sais quoi that I've been talking—"

‣ "You really aren't going to stop saying that, are you?"

‣ "Shouldn't have fixed my radio if you knew you were going to be disappointed, Steve."

‣ "That's where you're wrong. If you think anything about you is disappointing to me, then I'm not being a great husband, am I?"

‣ "Well, look at you being all sappy tonight."

‣ "Too much?"

‣ "Never too much. I'm far too gone to ever think otherwise, Steve-o."

‣ "Me too, darling. Me too."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

✶ ┄ DIVINE MADNESS !

summary: you were aegon's long before you were aemond's, and the king takes great pleasure in reminding his brother of that – especially when he's drunk. aemond, however, finally decides to remind you and his eldest brother who you belong to now. (8.4k)

pairing: aemond targaryen / f!reader / aegon targaryen

contents: established relationship, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, jealousy, aegon's a little shit, cw for cheating? sorta?, swearing, mentions of gore smut 18+, rough sex, dubcon-ish because r needs convincing, degradation, exhibitionism (reader) & voyeurism (aegon)

Aemond Targaryen was not easily conquered.

He was born with an inherited sort of anger that followed him well into adulthood. As the unloveable boy grew into an unloveable man, he learned the world in only its most violent terms. The greatest swordsman he ever knew taught him as much. The soft get eaten, said the man who would soon become The Kingmaker, as he pressed his boot to the center of the fallen boy’s chest. 

The words have since scorched a hole into his memory. The remains of them sit like ashes on his tongue.

Aemond didn’t learn of love until it was too late. Until he could only imagine it, like the rest of the world, from a most violent point of view. 

When a royal hunt was held to celebrate his betrothal to you, he felt it was rather fitting. He followed the armored soldiers as they stalked a perfect stag all afternoon, only to find it again at sundown in a bloodied and mangled mess. He watched with his one good eye as a towering bear ravaged the dying deer. He understood quickly that he was seeing love for the very first time that golden hour. 

As the bear ripped the throat of the stag and licked affectionately at the pulsing wound, Aemond wondered aloud, “Is that what marriage is meant to be?”  

You stood beside him in the center of the Kingswood in a pretty dress made of pink tulle and delicate flowers — neither put off by the vicious sight nor his vicious words. “Which one of us is which?” you mused instead, as the bear’s fur matted with blood.

Aemond pondered the question for several long moments. “I’m not sure,”  he answered honestly and without looking at you once. “But I assume we’ll know in time.” 

He realizes now, after many moons gone, that he never found an answer to your question. Who was the deer between you, and who was the bear? Which one of you was bleeding out, and who was the one picking flesh from their teeth? 

Aemond ponders the question now from the center of his marriage bed, where he lies naked over silk sheets. His hair spreads across the pillow in a silver halo around his head — the pin-straight strands set aglow by flickering candlelight. 

His pale body is pressed between your bare one and the mattress as you roll your hips over his lap. There is no real rhythm to your movements, which seem to be guided only by your building pleasure. Your nails bite crescent shapes into his chest like you intend to break through the skin there — to rip his heart from behind his ribcage and crush the beating organ in your fist.

Your skin is lithe and plush and delicate like a flower’s. You leak honey for him, too, which drips warm on his thighs and glimmers in the coarse thatch of hair above his cock. You’re a heavenly thing on top of him — a fact so undeniable that not even Aemond himself can turn away from it.

Your resemblance to that bear, from that day in the Kingswood, is equally as indisputable. 

You do not fuck him for his pleasure but for your own. You open him up to ravage him. To eat. And you leave claw marks on his skin to remind him of the damage you’ve done. 

Aemond does nothing but let himself be slaughtered by you. He yearns for it — for your teeth in his flesh, for the sight of his blood staining your mouth.

The Kingmaker always said that love makes you soft and that the soft get eaten, but god, Aemond has never felt more brutal.

“Are you close?” he wonders in a monotone that shatters the heavy silence, which has so far been filled only by your breathy whimpers. He already knows the answer to his question. Your body tells him without words as your velvety cunt flutters around him.

Aemond feigns an air of disinterest, anyway, just as he always has. 

He tilts his strong jaw upward to pretend he’s looking down at you and digs his lanky fingers into your bare thighs to pretend he’s ripping flesh from bone. Because he is not the weak and mangled stag, but a thing built for death. A thing that bleeds out joyously. A creature not worth loving.

A loyal hound that would bleed for you if you loved him right.

It explains why he let you mount him for the very first time, despite the queer nature of the position. The Maester always said it was best for him to be on top, so that his seed may have an easier time penetrating you — so that he’d produce an heir swiftly and no longer have to touch you. But Aemond lets you ride him with your own selfish intent because that’s what dogs do.

Dogs are loyal. Dogs don’t ask questions. Dogs are happy to be owned.

You nod wordlessly at his question with your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth wide open. Your nails dig further into his skin as the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens. The bed creaks in time with your enthusiastic thrusts, hitting the wall each time your hips roll forward — like a symphony of your desperation to cum.

“Say it,” Aemond commands quietly, to feel like he’s the one in charge despite being caged underneath you. To pretend that he’s the bear devouring you and not the other way around.

“I’m close, Aemond,” you obey in a breathy moan.

The sound of his name on your lips makes his cock twitch in the pulsing confines of your drooling cunt. He wonders briefly if you felt it, and his chest pinches with embarrassment. It’s hard to pretend he doesn’t want you when his body so hastily betrays him. 

“Go on, then,” he orders indifferently.

Despite his apathy — or perhaps because of it — your orgasm rattles very suddenly through your body. 

A whimper squeaks in the back of your throat as you tense over his lap. Your hips still as your pussy gushes around him. You work yourself through your high with little help from the boy beneath you, rubbing at your swollen clit to milk the remains of your pleasure. 

You sigh after a few breathless moments. Your trembling thighs gradually relax on either side of his hips. Your grinds resume, slower this time and with much more rhythm than before. When you grow too sensitive to be touched, you remove your hand from your pussy and smooth your palms over the crescent indents left unknowingly on Aemond’s chest. You feel his heart thrumming beneath your touch.

You toss your head back to smile deliriously at the ceiling. “Seven fucking Hells…” you whisper to yourself.

“You’re in rare form today, aren’t you?” Aemond observes in a detached tone of voice. “The Maester said you would be. Said the days after your bleeding made you more… spirited.”

He tucks his hands behind his head and only then notices the marks his fingers left behind. Small indents from his dull nails beneath blooming marks from his fingertips. It looks like it would hurt someone as delicate as you, but you don’t seem to mind. You seem to enjoy them, actually — which he thinks only proves his point.

You scoff a breathless laugh and drop your chin to peer down at him. Something mischievous flickers like a flame in your heavily lidded eyes. 

“You’re talking about my sexual appetite to The Maester?” you wonder aloud, scraping your nails over his unblemished chest — tainted only by the reddened marks you left behind. With his hands behind his head, Aemond’s lean torso is pulled taut. Your lips ache to trail kisses down the length of his milky skin, as smooth as white quartz.

“Of course I am. I’ve got to fuck a child into you sometime, don’t I?” Aemond answers, shrugging like it’s obvious. A smirk hints at the corner of his thin lips as he blinks up at you.  “Especially if I intend to make you queen…”

The sapphire gem in his right eye glitters in the low light as he rises from the mattress. He presses his heartbeat against yours, smothering your pillowy breasts with his slender body. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and roll your eyes at his insistence — of which he’s maintained since your engagement. You thought he’d get over the false fantasy with age, but his thoughts of sitting the Iron Throne have only seemed to mature alongside him. 

“I have no wish to be queen, Aemond,” you confess quietly, peering at him beneath your lashes. The look you give him is bone-crushingly sincere as you swipe your thumb over the marred skin beneath his severed eye. “I don’t want all of Westeros… I just want you.”

Something in Aemond’s chest threatens to warm.

He refuses to let it.

He knows that isn’t the truth. Not completely, anyway. 

You don’t want him the way you want his brother — the way you’ve always wanted his brother. Aegon was a drunken fool and a middling ruler, but he had always been good to you. The two of you fell in love well before you understood what the word meant. You only loved Aemond because it was your duty to, as his wife. The title was not of your choosing, either.

You did not want Aemond — not then, and maybe not ever — but you were cold and you were lonely, and Aemond was a dragon, and a fire was a fire. It was not fate that drew you to him, but convenience. 

But Aemond lets you kiss him anyway because somewhere down the line, he forgot he possessed the blood of the dragon. He became your loyal dog instead, watching you dangle the leash of his longing in a limp hand, growing hungry as he waited obediently for something that would never come back.

As you lick hungrily into his mouth — making his softening cock twitch with a newfound ache inside you — your bedroom door swingssuddenly (and very forcibly) open. The heavy wooden panel drones in protest before it slams hard against the cobbled wall. 

Neither of you is particularly startled by the sudden entrance. You both know who it is without having to look. The notion makes you part from each other with annoyed huffs. 

A fit of boyish laughter and a very strong scent of ale follows Aegon Targaryen as he saunters into your bedroom. His dark green robe flows behind him, unbuttoned to reveal his undershirt and baggy sleep pants. 

He doesn’t bother to shut the door behind him, and Criston Cole, standing guard at your door, blinks wildly into the amber-lit room. He momentarily forgets himself at the sight of your and Aemond’s entwined bodies. His armor clunks heavily as he rushes inside with an averted gaze. He doesn’t say a word before shutting it behind him.

“We’re busy, Aegon,” you huff, scolding the drunken king as though he were a child. 

You don’t bother to cover your bare form or dismount Aemond’s lap as you glare at the silver-haired boy over your shoulder. There is a very obvious familiarity between you and Aegon — so palpable that Aemond feels it even now, with his cock still piercing you.

“Oh, trust me. I noticed,” Aegon says, chuckling to himself as he attempts to pour a glass of wine with fumbling hands. 

The jewel-encrusted chalices clang together and fall heavily to the table when he reaches for them. The wine sloshes over the pitcher and splashes in fat droplets onto the cloth as he makes several attempts to pour himself a cup. To anyone else, it would be a clear sign to practice temperance, but Aegon has only ever known indulgence.

His white hair swishes around his shoulders when he turns to face you, grimacing briefly when wine splatters to his feet. “Please don’t tell me my brother always makes you do the work, Dove,” he pouts playfully into his goblet before taking a hearty sip.

You open your mouth to protest, but Aemond beats you to the punch.

“When she begs for it, yes,” he answers plainly and without an ounce of hesitation. 

The youngest boy sighs through his nose and leans away from you to rest his weight on his hands. You flash him a hardened glare in response, which he meets with a stoic look of apathy — you can’t get anything more out of him when his brother’s around.

“Isn’t it a divine thing?” Aegon slurs unknowingly, tripping over his feet as he staggers towards the bed. “To see her so desperate for your cock she’s practically salivating for it?”

A pink smile sits lazy and lopsided on his mouth before he stumbles again, catching himself on the bedframe with a pale, ringed hand. He laughs loudly then — at himself or perhaps at his words — but your face flares with embarrassment anyway. Both for the drunken king and for yourself.

You slide off of Aemond with a huff. The mattress dips softly as you sit beside him. His softening cock falls heavily to his hip, shining in the low light with your cum. You try to ignore the suddenly empty feeling as you drag the scarlet blanket over your naked bodies. 

“I don’t much appreciate being talked about like I’m not here,” you gripe with the sheets balled up at your chest — gripping at straws (or silk, rather) for an ounce of privacy, as if Aegon hasn’t already memorized every corner of your body and mind.

He had no choice but to commit every inch of you to memory after you were sold to his brother like cattle. He thought he’d get to keep you when he became king — that he’d have a wife to bear his children and you to warm his bed. He was very boyishly heartbroken when he’d heard of your engagement.

“I can’t just be your whore for the rest of my life,” you’d giggled the night after the royal hunt, drawing indistinct shapes on his bare chest with the tip of your finger. 

Aegon shrugged a bare shoulder and jutted his kissed lips.“Well, you wouldn’t be my whore.”  

“Oh, really?” you grinned.

“Of course not! You’d be my paramour!” he insisted bluntly, hugging your naked body closer with a pale arm around your shoulder, trying to ignore how perfectly you fit against him. He smiled wildly at you, and his light eyes sparkled with a post-orgasmic bliss. “What more could you possibly want?”  he asked you, only partly joking.

Aegon never imagined, then, that he’d be where he is now. A king. A father. A drunk. A heartbroken fool standing at the foot of his brother’s marriage bed, trying to remember how it felt to be noticed by you. 

“Surely, you’re used to being disregarded— as my brother’s bride and all,” Aegon jokes in muddled slurs. He cups a hand over his mouth and whispers loudly to Aemond, “You’re not very attentive in bed, I’ve heard.”

The orange embers simmering in your chest burst into red-hot flames behind your ribcage. A wildfire swims in your irises. Smoke billows from your nose. The inferno sets your skin ablaze. You can’t help but wear your emotion all over your face — or wear your heart on your sleeve, as it were.

Aemond has always been the opposite. 

He’s stoic. Calculated. Taciturn. He rarely lets the facade slip, and now is not one of those times. Not a muscle in his face flickers as the candlelight dances over his sharpened features, glittering in his sapphire eye. You can feel the heat of his own controlled wildfire radiating from his pale skin as he seethes. 

Aegon can feel it, too, it seems, as he giggles boyishly to himself.

“I told you that in confidence,” you say in a steady voice, as soft and as stoic as any princess is allowed to be. “As a friend.”

The word sounds as sweet as honey as it spills from your pretty mouth — like a saccharine venom. Aegon feels the sting of it in his chest, only slightly dulled from the sparkling wine. He clutches at his bleeding heart and flinches playfully backward.

“Ouch… Friend,” Aegon echoes in a slurred drawl before a smile tugs slow on his lips. The rosy expression sits crooked on his mouth as he leans over the bedframe to be nearer to you. “Tell me, Dove. Was I just a friend when you were begging for my tongue after the feast? When you were pleading for me to let you cum like only I can?”

Your soft features harden in Aegon’s direction as the boy’s pale eyes meet Aemond’s, who remains silent and simmering at your side. “Her words, brother,” the king amends, faux-sympathetically. “Not mine.”

Aemond knows his brother well enough to know when the halfwit’s baiting for a response. He’s hardly ever subtle about it — or about anything, for that matter. He wants the fight because he wants the attention. Your attention. And who is he to deny the king of want he so desperately wants?

The bed squeaks under his weight as he rises from the mattress. His feet pad along the floor as he stalks wordlessly across the room. The moonlight spills in rays from the stained glass window and bathes his bare body in glittering shades of silver. He searches very obviously for something, but what, you can’t be sure.

“You talk very proudly, your grace— for someone who could hardly pleasure me that night,” you scoff bitterly, lip snarled in a smirk as you look him up and down. “You were too drunk, if I recall. Too sloppy. Just like you are now.”

Aegon’s smile widens, as though he were pleased by such a cynical response from such a pristine girl. Despite his drunken state, his ringed hand is oddly steady when it reaches out for you. He smooths his palm over the downy silk blanket you clutch to your naked body and runs his thumb over the inside of your knee.

“Perhaps I could make it up to you, then,” he offers in a low and honeyed tone, the exact color of the candlelight he’s bathed in. “If my brother will be so kind as to permit it—”

Aemond reappears from the darkened edges of the bedroom then, still blissfully bare but carrying a sword in his hand. 

The long blade glimmers in the moonlight when he presses it to the side of Aegon’s neck. The freshly sharpened edge idles at the king’s pulse point — one sudden movement to the left would leave him as bloodied and mangled as that deer Aemond can’t seem to get out of his head.

Your heart lurches into your throat at the sight. You gape at the treasonous act before you, wide-eyed and breathless and waiting.

Aegon’s reaction is perhaps slightly delayed by the alcohol. He forgets to be frightened by the blade stinging his skin when he stands to full height again. His pink lips turn softly downward as he gazes at the steel with heavy eyes. 

He blinks once, then shrugs, “Well… Get on with it, then.” 

You can’t be sure if he’s calling his brother’s bluff or if he’s really that big of an idiot. When he lifts his hand to take another hearty swig of grape wine, you figure it must be a bit of both.

“It’s time for bed, Aegon,” Aemond quips in a condescending monotone. He counsels the king as if he were a child, yet holds a sword to his neck as though he were a sheep to slaughter. “His Grace is obviously very tired.”

Aegon’s jaw clenches, hard enough to shift his temples. 

For the first time since he made himself at home in your bedroom, the meaningless masquerade slips. Aegon has perhaps only two weaknesses — two scars that will surely bleed out if prodded: you and being treated like a child. 

He’s coddled enough by his mother and his grandsire, who seem so unintimidated by his authority that they rush to rule over him instead. No one in court ever took him seriously. Only you, perhaps. 

“You’ve got the temperament of a court jester, Aegon,” you told him once, painfully honest, but smiling as you cupped his teary face in your hands. “But you are kind. Maybe the kindest to ever seat the Iron Throne. And that’s what makes a good king.”

Aegon swallows hard, then fakes another smile as he gestures to you with his chalice. “But the princess has yet to answer my question, dear brother. I’ll let her bid my leave, if you don’t mind—”

“Do it, Aemond,” you command sharply into the honey-lit room. 

You sit like a painting in the center of an unmade bed, naked but dripping in silk, with your features still softened from an earlier orgasm. Despite your petaled softness, a harsher venom spits from your lips.

There’s a brief flicker in Aegon’s eyes, though perhaps it’s only the candlelight. 

His smile ebbs a moment later, and his contrite is unmistakable then. His face floods with a quiet sort of concern, as though he were actually worried that his throat would be slit before you — or worse, that you wouldn’t even cry for him if it were.

He’s quick to cover his momentary woe as he turns on the heel of his boot to face his brother, the opposite way of where his longsword sits in wait against his pulse. 

“Tell me, brother— Have you ever fucked her like a hound?” he blurts with a lopsided smile and a mischievous squint. “Have you ever pinned her to the bed and just— made a proper whore out of her?”

Aegon’s boyish giggling fills the room, still mostly quiet, save for the crackling of candle wicks and the summer wind rushing through a partially cracked window.

Aemond’s face doesn’t waver. His sharp features are set in stone, neither scowling nor smiling, but a sinister in-between thing. “You’d do well not to call my wife a whore, brother. Especially with my sword to your neck. ’Tis not very wise.”

“You haven’t, have you?” Aegon laughs, so hard he clutches his stomach to keep from doubling over. “Well, it’s no wonder you can’t make her cum! She goes wild for it, brother. Truly. She does. I have never heard someone scream so loudly from pleasure before— Not even in a brothel!”

Your features twist with a quiet anguish. Your teary eyes flit from Aemond’s hardened face, to the sword in his right hand, and to his face again. You wait for him to look at you — so that he might look upon your disdain and find you equally hurt by Aegon’s words. 

He never does. He doesn’t even blink. He just lets his eldest brother talk himself into a bigger hole while his burning anger builds.

Aegon fights hard to swallow his laughter. He clears his throat and tries to be serious, furrowing his brow and tilting his chin in a playfully solemn look. “Let me guess— You only fuck her how the Maester instructs?” 

Aemond remains silent. Deafeningly so.

Aegon shakes his head and smacks his lips against his teeth, looking genuinely sympathetic. 

“You poor, poor things… No wonder you’re always so irritable,” he quips and pokes his brother hard in the chest. When Aemond doesn’t flinch, Aegon twists the knife. “And no wonder your wife comes to me for a proper fucking—”

Aemond reaches for his brother with his free hand, shoving him unforgivingly on the shoulder. Aegon stumbles over his feet for a moment before toppling to the cobbles. He falls hard and laughs the entire way down. Dark wine stains the stone like blood as the chalice rolls out of his hand.

With Aegon finally out of his tunnel vision, Aemond’s able to see you more clearly. His icy gaze hardens as he eyes you like prey. He stalks towards you on long limbs just the same. A menacing bear to a harmless doe. 

You flinch when his sword clatters harshly to the ground. You tilt your chin to meet the boy’s eyes when he towers over you. “Turn over,” Aemond commands, still soft in his way but leaving very little room for argument.

You try to, anyway, as you blink at him with wide eyes. You swallow through the lump in your throat and try to make out the words. “Aemond— I—”

He lifts his chin in a dismissive look that quietens you immediately. “It wasn’t a question, I’m afraid.”

Your anxious hands grip tighter at the sheets covering your naked body. Your eyes flash with panic and distant arousal as they flit away from him and to his brother. Aegon, still chuckling quietly at nothing, has a hard go of lifting himself off the ground.

“Don’t look at him,” Aemond taunts. 

Your heart stops when you look back at him. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs as he grips it in a pale fist, jerking it slowly stiff with lanky fingers. Pearly pre-cum dribbles from the tip of it, which glows softly red with his arousal. His hand rises and falls in steady motions, punctuated by each of his commands for you. 

“Turn around… On your knees… Head to the pillows… I won’t repeat myself again.”

Something warm blooms in the pit of your stomach at the apathetic look he gives you. You clench your thighs together, distantly ashamed of the throbbing arousal between them.

You swallow down any remaining feelings of trepidation when you shift on the bed. The wooden frame creaks under your weight as you twist into the instructed position. Your knees dig into the mattress. Your cheek rubs against the silk pillow like a cat.

Aemond snatchers the blankets from your body with a cruel hand when you try to hide beneath them. You fight back a shiver when you’re exposed to the cool air. The slick between your thighs glitters more obviously in the candlelight. The sight of your sparkling pussy makes his cock twitch.

“That’s the spirit, brother!” Aegon commends with a bout of childish laughter. 

He staggers to the side of the bed when he’s finally off the ground, boots scuffing along the stone floor. He sways in place as he stands at your side, brows furrowed in concentration as he eyes your naked body. You try not to squirm at the attention.

Aemond pays the boy king no mind as he kneels on the mattress behind you. He slides two of his fingers into your drooling cunt with ease, already stretched out from his cock before Aegon’s sudden intrusion. 

You sigh hard through your nose when his middle and ring fingers wet themselves in your satiny walls. You try not to whimper when Aemond pulls them abruptly out again, using your honey to lubricate his cock.

“She’s absolutely dripping for it, isn’t she?” Aegon muses with his gaze locked on your ass, arched obediently into the air. His eyes go far away in thought as he imagines your waiting pussy clenching around nothing, just begging to be filled. 

“I told you she liked it,” he boasts, then murmurs more curiously to himself. “I didn’t know she liked to be watched, though…”

He tilts his head to the side to gaze upon you in a quiet sort of wonderment, like he’s seeing you for the very first time. 

You avert your gaze when you accidentally lock eyes. You find a spot on the wall to stare at instead, a jewel glittering in one of the tapestries across the room. You needed to distract yourself from Aegon’s prying eyes — needed to distract yourself from how much you liked having him look at you like this.

“Neither did I,” Aemond mutters distantly as he lines his weeping cock at your entrance. 

He slams into you without warning. Buries himself to the hilt inside you and lets you revel in the burn of being pierced so ardently. If you liked being fucked like a whore, he’ll treat you like one. He’ll use you like you used him. He’ll ravage you completely. He’ll rip your throat out and lick at the gaping wound.

A whimper sounds in your throat when the burning gives way to a warmer feeling in the pit of your stomach. Aemond’s cock was much thinner than his brother’s, but what he lacked in girth, he made up for tenfold in length. It was easy for him to penetrate you completely — to leave you writhing beneath him without moving.

But Aemond was usually much more careful with you than this. You were often on your back with him— always on your back with him— and his thrusts were always calculated. The goal was never to make love to you but to produce a child, which was your shared duty as members of court. His orgasm was more important than yours, in that regard, so you rarely ever had one of your own with him. Not that Aemond cared, anyway.

He did not care about your pleasure. Did not care that you spent most nights playing house with his brother. Did not care that you had your own separate bedroom that you often shared with Aegon — a sanctuary wherein the holy vows you made in the eyes of the Seven meant nothing. 

Aemond didn’t care about any of it because it was always easier to hallucinate your holiness. But he understands, now, that you have always been the demon. The demon of his dreams. The death-touched witch he carries like a burden. Somewhere deep in the enemy he made of you, he found the lover.

And as his brother idles some feet away — watching him fuck you, mocking him, giving him something to prove — Aemond realizes they’re bound by the same sin.

You.

“You’ll have to do better than that, brother,” Aegon instructs with a shake of his wild head. He furrows his brows in a pinched look of concentration, like he’s really analyzing each of Aemond’s thrusts, visibly disappointed to find the boy still holding back. 

The thought of pinning you down is rather strange, Aemond realizes, when you’ve always given yourself to him so willingly. Despite your arrangements with the king, you were always waiting for him after a long day of counsel — with spread legs and a flagon of wine— ready to be bred because you knew the prince’s work was never truly finished until then. 

It was somehow stranger to be rough with you, when you were made of something more delicate than flower petals. 

Aemond struggles to find a rhythm with his thrusts accordingly. They’re sharp and merciless — two words that describe the boy rather well — but he can’t decide between burying himself inside you completely or sparing you a gentler inch or two. It leaves him fumbling foreignly in his body.

“She’s not made of glass! You won’t break her!” Aegon chuckles loudly, gesturing to your petaled body with a ringed hand, which now trembles with the anticipation of being ruined. 

Aemond hasn’t yet realized that you, his petaled bride, revel in the cruelty. He hasn’t understood the great relief of giving into destruction, either. Aegon feels like it’s his job to show him, as his older brother and all.

“Go on, then! Fuck her like you hate her!” he shouts brazenly into the quiet room.

Aemond stills completely. You feel him staring down at you. His eyes, both made of striking sapphire, are wide and attentive as they dart over your profile. He searches for any sign of hesitation in your features, because even despite his simmering anger, he won’t hurt you unless you tell him to. Until you beg to be fucked like a whore with his brother watching you.

Your chin brushes your bare shoulder when you glance at the boy behind you. Your gaze swims with orange candlelight as you blink at him with big, wet eyes. He finds a distant fear pinching your pretty face. 

It is not Aemond that frightens you, nor his brother who’s still swaying in place beside you — drunk on the wine, the sight of you, and the hankering to watch you be ravished. It is, instead, the enormity of your desire that scares you. The crushing weight of your craving for both of them. 

Aemond sees the eyes of the dying stag in your own. The wide-eyed gape of an innocent thing that has no idea what’s happening to it. A thing that knows it’s going to be ripped apart but can’t do anything to stop it. 

The only real difference is you don’t want him to stop. You want him to open you up, to ravage you completely, to leave you for scraps.

“Do it, Aemond,” you beg in a breathy whisper. “Please.”

He takes a moment to look at you, to really look at you, and feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. His fragile and unholy wife, commanding him now to sin, with those bad and beautiful eyes beneath him. The embers swimming in Aemond’s chest burst into an all-out flame. He wants to devour you in a similar way — burn you, eat you, love you into dragonfire.

Aemond slams into you again. His hips make a dull clapping sound when they collide with the plush of your ass. His cock reaches a spongy depth inside of you and your velvet walls hug him tight, like you don’t want him to leave. A pained noise sounds in the back of your throat despite that. You arch into him in a silent plea for more.

He gives you exactly what you want.

He finds a steady rhythm with ease — burying himself to the hilt, pulling out before you have time to adjust, then punching back into you again. His lean hips angle forward to thrust into you deeper. His long fingers pull you into each of them, creating new bruises on the prints already blooming there. 

Aegon chuckles loudly. A boyish giggling that echoes over the sounds of a creaking bed and slapping skin — over Aemond’s low grunts and your pitiful whines. 

“There you are, brother! Fuck her like a hound!” he shouts between giddy laughter as he staggers back to the table. His boots splash in the wine he spilled earlier as he steps over the fallen goblet. He retrieves another golden cup and pours himself another.

“Reach under her hip— touch between her legs. She lovesthat. Don’t you, Dove?” Aegon coaches over his shoulder as he empties the flagon of wine.

Aemond could hardly stomach authority. He rarely took direction because he long understood that he was the wisest in any given room. But here, now, he knows his brother is far more familiar with your body than perhaps anyone in Westeros. So Aemond, for the first time maybe ever, decides to obey. 

He does everything his brother tells him to. He pins you to the mattress with a wide hand fisting your hair. Brings his free one between your legs to massage your clit with calloused fingers. He does everything he’s told to do, but better. 

You make noises for him he’s never heard before. Tiny whimpers are forced from your lips every time he punches inside of you. His fingers find your swollen clit and you writhe, whining all pretty underneath him as a coil in your belly starts to tighten.

Aemond watches you take pleasure in his subtle cruelty. Something short of pride sparkles in his chest. “Do you like being fucked like a whore?” he spits between bated breaths.

It’s hard to tell if he’s being genuine when he speaks in such a monotone. You nod for him anyway, warm cheek grazing the soft silk pillow. His pointer and middle finger press hard to your clit, and you keen.

“Say it,” he commands sharply, bending at the waist to lean over your back. His sweat-slick chest presses flush to your spine. His breaths fans over the shell of your ear as he tells you, “Tell me you like being fucked like this.”

It’s hard to make the words out when it’s taking everything in you not to scream. You try for him, anyway. “I love when you fuck me like this,” you whimper between heavy pants.

Aemond rises to his knees again. He releases your hair from his fist and holds you tightly by the plush of your hips, pulling you into his thrusts and fucking you that much harder. 

You hear yourself bellow a feeble cry at the assault on your delicate pussy. The stinging of his cock punching into you combines with a warmer pleasure that drools like honey from your cunt. You clench around him despite yourself, swallowing him further inside. 

His fingers are merciless as they rub at your clit. The sensitive button swells for him as your pleasure builds, overwhelmingly so.

“Do you hear that?” Aegon wonders aloud when you sob. The pitiful sound is strikingly familiar to him. He saunters back towards the bed and brings the chalice to his mouth. “That means she’s close,” he murmurs into the cup.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you can feel Aegon when he’s near. You grip the pillow in your fist and struggle to find the will to open your eyes. Through the haze of looming pleasure, you find the face of your first-ever love gazing upon you with a cynical sort of smile. 

Aegon crouches beside the mattress so his face is level with yours. He smooths a sympathetic hand over your cheeks, fiery to the touch, and pushes rogue strands of hair behind your ear. His touch is much softer compared to Aemond’s — less calloused, less bruising. The contrast is dizzying.

“Are you close, Dove?” 

You answer with a strangled moan. 

“It’s okay. I know you are,” he murmurs in a honeyed voice, lips jutted in a pitying pout. “I bet you’re going to make such a mess for him, aren’t you?”

Your pussy weeps around Aemond’s cock at his words — the faux-sympathetic tone of them, more so. The youngest Targaryen grits his teeth when the walls of your velvety cunt tighten around him. A wet schlick schlick schlick sound fills the air. You swallow down a feeble whine in response.

Aemond’s fingers push hard on your sensitive clit. “Answer him,” he tells you.

“Yes,” you squeak obediently.

Aegon smiles into his wine. The bitter-sweet grape shines on his pink lips until he licks it away again. He catches your lidded eyes on his mouth, and his grin grows. He’d kiss you if he could, but he knows you want it too badly. He knew there was very little gained from getting what you wanted without making a little fuss about it first.

“Say my name when you cum, will you?” he murmurs softly as the fingers of his free hand scratch gently at your scalp. “I know you’re surely thinking of me, anyway.”

Aemond falters. His hips stutter against your ass and his hands grip you noticeably tighter, as though physically affected by his brother’s words. The pinch in his chest is only partly relieved when you shake your head against Aegon’s palm.

“You’re so pretty, Dove. Do you know that?” Aegon smiles. “Even when you lie.”

You hear yourself whine before you can help it. Your back arches as your thighs start to tremble. Aemond feels you clench somehow tighter around him, hugging mercilessly at his cock and making it harder to move inside you. Your orgasm swells up from the pit of your stomach, held by a fraying rope that’s bound to snap. The inevitability of your pleasure startles you.

“Aemond,” you whimper quietly, as though looking for an ounce of comfort from the boy fucking you so brutally.

“Cum for me,” he instructs without a shred of sympathy. The words come out slightly choppy from the strength of his thrusts. “Cum for me now.”

The pressure in your stomach builds, like a dam about to burst. A scream rises in your throat and escapes just the same. The pretty sound scratches at the back of your throat, which Aegon cradles in his gentle hand. 

His thumb rests just over your pulse while his fingers curl around the back of your neck. He lifts your chin in a silent command to look at him. A crooked smile tugs at his mouth when you blink at him with glassy eyes.

“Say my name, Dove. Go on,” he guides with a soft nod. 

Your face pinches as you grit your teeth, fighting the urge to scream once more. Aegon’s gentle features harden into something sterner. If there was anything he couldn’t stand, it was not getting his way. 

His pretty eyes lose any ounce of empathy as he repeats, “Say my name when you cum for my brother.”

You crack. The dam bursts. His name swells in our throat and tumbles from your lips. “Aegon!” you moan in a strangled cry as your orgasm racks through your body in merciless waves. 

Your pussy flutters as you leak around Aemond’s cock. He struggles to move with your satiny cunt embracing him so ardently. His hips stutter against you when his own orgasm overtakes his body. A moan grumbles in his chest, bitten back with a clenched jaw, while his cock jerks within your pulsing velvet confines. 

Aemond leaves bruises on your petaled skin with how tightly he holds you. He brings his chin to his chest and pulls you into his sharp thrusts, each of them punctuated by a growl and a load of his cum. Your rippling cunt milks him dry. You sigh at the warm and tingly feeling of being so full of him.

“There you go!” Aegon praises as he watches both of you tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasms. He rises to full height again and takes another sip of wine. He talks in jumbled slurs into his goblet. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, brother? Just takes a little… communication, is all. You’ll breed her in no time, no doubt.”

The haze of honeyed pleasure is slow to pass. Aemond tilts his head back as the remains of it ebb like a low tide. He smiles bitterly and glances at his brother with his one remaining eye. “I thank you for your service, your grace. Truly,” he mocks.

Aegon smiles obliviously, swaying softly in place. He bends at the waist to whisper in your ear. The heavy alcohol on his breath makes you flinch.

“Come visit me soon, won’t you?” he mutters, equal parts playful and meaning it, as the pad of his thumb brushes the apple of your cheek. “Bed’s much too cold without you, Dove.”

You glare at him in response, knowing he’s putting on a show for his brother. Aegon only grins as he rises once more, giggling to himself the entire way out of your room.

When the heavy wooden door creaks open and shut again, you take your first good breath all night. Your lashes brush your cheek as your tired eyes flutter slowly shut.

“How much of that did you hear?” Aegon asks Criston Cole, muffled from the other side of the entrance.

“Not a word, your grace,” the knight answers obediently.

The king snickers. “Good boy…”

Aegon’s footsteps scuff the floor as he walks away on unsteady legs. Metal armor clunks softly together as Ser Criston shifts outside your door. The bedroom, otherwise, grows eerily quiet — quelled only by crackling candles and whipping wind. 

The notion that you and Aemond are alone again together weighs heavily upon you. You’re still reeling with the disbelief that any of it had happened at all.

“Are you… Are you alright?” the boy stammers as his cock softens inside of you. 

Aemond often found it hard to make small talk with you — or anyone, for that matter. He cared little for conversation and less for meaningless ones. He enjoyed keeping to himself most of all, which was a difficult feat for a married man.

You nod wordlessly against the satin pillow.

“Tell me.”

You swallow hard. “I’m alright.”

Aemond’s hands tremble with the urge to comfort you despite having bruised you moments ago. He guides himself out of you and balls them into fists instead. You bite back a whimper at the empty feeling, relaxing slowly on the mattress as Aemond pads across the room.

“I am sorry about my brother,” he says to fill the silence as he reaches for the flagon of ale. He finds it lighter than usual and scoffs when he realizes Aegon has emptied its contents. The king only came around to drink his wine and fuck his wife, it seems — the only two things he appears to be good for. “His Grace quite fancies himself a scene, I believe.”

You exhale hard through your nose in place of a laugh. “I’m used to it, husband. I assure you,” you hum tiredly, twirling your finger around the golden tassel of the pillow.

“I’m sure you are,” Aemond lilts as he steps into his breeches.

You huff and roll onto your back. Your naked body stretches in the sheets like a cat as you languish on the crimson silk. You possess a demoniacal sort of beauty that Aemond struggles to look away from. You seem to know this, too, as you flash him a quiet smirk. 

“You don’t have to be so jealous, my love,” you tease. “Your cum is still leaking out of me, if you’ve forgotten.”

He flashes you a cynical glance that loses its playfulness when he swipes his leather patch over his sapphire eye. A hint of a smile quirks the edges of his thin lips. “Along with my brother’s leftovers, I’m sure.”

“Aemond—”

“Don’t,” he interjects sharply before tugging his undershirt over his head. The baggy white fabric drips over his pale torso. He tucks the hem of it into his pants with an absentminded hand. “I can’t abide by petty conversations. I’ve grown used to receiving Aegon’s hand-me-downs, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

He flashes you a knowing glance, as if to say you were the hand-me-down in question — the princess who was meant to be Aegon’s bride, doomed to belong to his youngest brother.

“You say that like I’m some kind of doll,” you scoff.

“You are, aren’t you?” Aemond humors in a monotone, walking back to the bed as he ties the string of his breeches. “Is that not what you wanted to be before? A whore to be played with?”

He looms over the foot of the mattress. You sit up to be nearer to him, propping your weight on your hands. “A whore?” you repeat with a quirked brow. “Or yours?” 

Aemond ponders the question for a moment. He spots a rogue tendril of hair clinging to your jaw and gets the sudden urge to move it for you. He decides not to deprive himself of touching you this time as his knuckles graze your skin, tucking the strand behind your ear. The act of softness is obviously foreign to the two of you.

“As my dear brother always said… ‘A whore is a whore is a whore,’” Aemond recites indifferently. “They’re all the same, aren’t they? One is as good as another.”

Your chest pinches at his words, though you figure you have no real right to be angered by them. Aemond bends at the waist to brush a chaste kiss to your cheek, pink lips chapped as they graze your skin. You buzz for more as soon as he’s gone.

“Where are you going?” you call to him when he stalks to the door on long legs.

“To the brothel,” he lies without missing a beat. He wraps a hand around the golden door handle and spares you a mischievous look. “Perhaps you should go visit the king whilst I’m gone. He’ll need someone to turn him on his side when he vomits on himself.” 

You blink at Aemond with a knowing glint in your eye, like you can see right through him. He decides to blame it on the flickering candlelight instead, which paints your bare skin in flaxen shades of amber as you slide off the bed and saunter toward him.

“Perhaps I will,” you muse with a shrug when you stand before him. You smooth your hands over his cotton shirt, running your palms up his torso and resting them finally on his chest — just over his heart, where your claw marks are red and welting. “I supposed it’ll help me pass the time while you’re off whoring.”

The corner of your lip quirks in an evil smile that Aemond meets with a hardened scowl. 

You know exactly the game he’s trying to play. You are, perhaps, an expert in it yourself. The notion makes him seethe. 

He finds himself quickly missing having you pinned underneath him, falling apart and pleading.

“Best hurry off to the brothel, my love. Before all the good whore’s are taken,” you tell him with a faux-innocent twinkle in your eye. 

You rise to the tips of your toes to press your lips to his, balling his tunic in your fists to pull him down the rest of the way. You stamp a quick kiss to his mouth and ignore any urge to deepen it as you step back from him. 

Aemond watches with clenched fists as you stroll away, headed towards the looking glass at the far edge of the room, where your gown hangs on the back of a chair. The see-through cotton drapes over your skin like summer rain. He swallows hard, feeling suddenly like his heart’s in his throat — like you’ve ripped a tendon or more out with your teeth and sucked the weeping wound dry.

There was no fighting here, Aemond realizes quickly. There was no winning here, either. He has long been the mangled stag, wailing to the gods for mercy, and you have always been the bear taking chunks from his flesh — the only one around to hear his prayer.

You love him in the only way Aemond understands. Cruelly. With his blood staining your teeth as you gnaw him to the bone. 

You’re going to kill him. 

And he’s going to let you.

── Lagneía

𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: shanks x f!reader - as the newest member of the red hair pirates, you have a long way to go to prove yourself, not only to your crew mates but your cocky captain as well. Unfortunately, things fall apart after a little excursion and a run-in with a glowing mushroom that has you feeling...hot.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 tags: smut, sex pollen, nsfw, dubcon (it's sex pollen, ya know how it is), MDNI

𓍊𓋼𓍊 wordcount: ~8k

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

You really did respect your Captain, though you didn’t tend to show it. 

Benn Beckman was the one who had recruited you when he stumbled upon you in a gambling hall. You had been using Observation Haki to beat the dealer, racking up thousands in berri. Beckman clocked your underhanded method and cornered you outside the casino. You were nervous that he would report you to the authorities, but as luck would have it, he turned out to be a pirate. He was impressed by your advanced skills in Haki, and the two of you hit it off. Eventually, he brought you to the Red Force and introduced you to Shanks, who did not give the best first impression. 

“Who’s the kid?” Shanks questioned, barely looking up from his drink. 

He immediately rubbed you the wrong way. 

Beckman cleared his throat before you could tear him a new one, “This is Y/N. They’re who I told you about, the one gifted in Observation Haki.” 

Shanks finally looked up from his drink, lazily trailing his eyes from your feet, all the way to your face. He finally met your eyes and you struggled to maintain your composure under the immense pressure of his gaze. You lifted your chin, desperate to keep your dignity. 

Shanks kept his eyes on yours, his gaze intense as he questioned you, “And why should you be a part of my crew? Have you ever been around pirates or even worked as one? It’s dangerous work. Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of lifestyle, kid?” 

“I didn’t come here to be interrogated by some old man,” you bit back quickly.

Shanks put his hand over his heart dramatically, feigning emotional pain. 

“Listen, Red Hair, I came here as a favor to Beckman, I don’t have anything to prove to you.” You paused as the hair on the back of your neck stood up, “And if your friend hiding over there even thinks about shooting that spitball at me, I’m walking.” 

Beckman looked surprised, but Shanks only smiled. There was a clatter and some swearing before another man with dreadlocks emerged behind nearby ship supplies. “Well, shit. So much for that plan, Captain. Seems like she’s the real deal.” The man then jokingly blew the spitball at Shanks, who to your dismay, easily dodged it. 

“Color me impressed.” You look back to see Shanks smiling up at you. “You have a lot of potential. Let’s work hard together, Y/N.”

… 

While you didn’t join the Red Hair Pirates for Shanks, you became proud to be part of his crew over time. You had been sailing for around 6 months and were glad to say you had quickly proved your worth. Although there were members with better Haki skills, you knew you were improving every day with each new experience. 

You hated to admit it, but your captain occupied much of your thoughts. You often wondered if Shanks knew just how hard you were still trying to prove yourself to him. Though you saw him often, you rarely ever worked with him directly. In fact, you’d barely spoken to one another after your first meeting. You had occasionally exchanged a few words, formalities really, at mealtimes and during duty; but a part of you wished there was more. Though, you would never let him know that. 

You always put on a tough face in front of him, using words to bite back and hold your ground against the confident, and often cocky, Emperor of the Sea. Truthfully, after your first meeting you had come to admire him, and were slightly intimidated by the powerful man. 

While sailing the Grand Line in the New World, the ship stumbled upon an uninhabited island. It was a warm, tropical island, thick with jungle and vines. Shanks decided that the crew would depart and explore the island for supplies, and Roux hoped to find some edible plants and animals for their stock. 

All active members of the crew made groups and departed from the Red Force, but since you were not on shift, you’d decided to sleep in. When you awoke and found the ship docked, you decided it would be fun to explore the island as well. It was better than being cooped up all day in the barracks. 

As you stepped down the ladder a cheery familiar voice called down to you, “And where do you think you’re going, kid?” 

You jumped at your captain’s voice and looked up to see him. His hand gripped a rigging rope, holding him as he stood on the rail’s ledge, and leaned far off the ship to gaze down at you. His hair fell over his face, but his smile was still visible. 

“God, Captain. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

“Well, I’m just trying to make sure our ship’s hawkeye doesn’t stray too far and get into trouble,” he teased. 

“I’m not getting into trouble,” you grumbled as you looked back down to continue your descent onto the sand. “I just wanted to explore the island like everyone else.” 

“Alone?” His smile slightly faltered. 

“Is there a problem with that?” You ask, confused about where this conversation was going. 

“Well, we can’t afford to lose a member with skills like yours. I’ll come with you.” 

You reached the bottom of the ladder and looked up at Shanks in shock, “That really isn’t necessary, Captain. I don’t plan on going far-”

“Nonsense. Besides, you’re not much of a fighter, you should have a bodyguard when you go to unfamiliar places. And I have a duty to protect the valuable members of my crew.” As he said this he jumped from the railing and landed next to you. 

You did your best to hide how flustered you were, “There are other members with better Observation Haki than I do, you included.” 

Shanks tsked at your objection. He looked hard at you and spoke genuinely,  “Don’t sell yourself short. I heard about how you helped the snipers take out that marine ship last week. And I heard how you helped guide the navigator through the rocky sea and fog the other day. I’ve only ever heard other crew members praising you.” 

You quickly turned away from the red-haired man adjusting the strap on your bag. You knew you couldn’t stop the blush that was forming on your face, so you turned around to start walking into the jungle. “I just do what I’m told, Captain.” You quickly dismissed him, “Are you coming, or what?” 

Shanks laughed as he caught up with you, walking ever so slightly behind you. The walk was silent as the two of you marched deeper and deeper into the jungle, occasionally stopping to inspect certain plants or animals or collect samples in your bag. He enjoyed watching you as you took in the new landscape around you. He’d always found it fascinating to watch you while you concentrated. In fact, he had rarely taken his eyes off you since you’d joined his crew. 

From the second he met you, he knew you would be interesting. Shanks would be the first to admit he tested you during your first interaction. He purposefully pushed your buttons to see what you were made of. He needed to know how strong your resolve was before he let you, a stranger, onto his ship. And boy, did you meet his expectations, surpassed them even. Your insulting response nearly made him fall for you right then and there. But he knew his place as captain. He couldn’t risk showing special attention, let alone romantic attention to one of his subordinates. It was his job to keep you safe and provide you with a place to hone your abilities. He had to keep his distance. 

Yet… here he was, an Emperor of the Sea, trailing behind you like a puppy. He was rightfully worried to see you sneaking off the ship after the assigned explorers already left. He was doing this because it was the captain’s duty to protect his crew. At least, that’s what he told himself.

As you pushed your way deeper through the vines you tried to ignore the fact that Shanks was tailing you. This was just like any other outing with any other crewmate. You felt his eyes on you the entire time as you walked, but you tried not to let it affect your movements. Was he judging you? You felt a little more self-conscious than usual about what you stopped to look at or how you collected samples. Especially when you caught him staring intensely at your hands.  

You finally reached a large plateau. Looking up, you examined the wall looming far above your head, and at the base of the formation, there was an illuminated opening. 

“Shanks,” you called out to your captain, “there’s a cave over there.” 

Shanks shoved some pesky vines out of his face and looked toward where you were pointing. There was a small opening, barely 4 ft tall, and a blueish light was emanating from the abyss. You moved closer to the cave willing your senses to reach out and explain the phenomenon. You couldn’t sense any danger coming from the cave, so it was time to be like a pirate and explore. 

“I’m going to go in.” You stated as you dropped your bag to the ground and started making your way to the entrance. 

Shanks was quick, definitely not desperate, as he moved forward and grabbed your arm, “Woah! Hold on there. There is no way I can fit in there.” he gestured towards his large stature and again at the tiny entrance. 

You considered the situation and shrugged, “Then wait out here. I won't be long, I just want to check out what’s causing the glow.” 

Shanks frowned, realizing there was no point in arguing with you. “Alright, but be careful.”

You saluted him with an exaggerated hand on your brow and firmly stated,. “No.” 

You turned away from him and focused back on the cave opening. “Brat.” you heard him mutter under his breath. You turned around quickly, did you hear that right? He had a smile on his face. 

You stared at him for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. You smiled back before rolling your eyes and descending. 

The walls of the cave were rich in color, with layers of lichen growing throughout the chasm. You strained your ears to listen for any unseen threats that could have been lurking beyond your sight, but all you could hear was the rhythmic drip of the cave walls weeping. As you bent and contorted your body to ease your way through the damp walls, you could see the blue light growing in intensity ahead.

Finally, you reached a large pocket of space in the cave, enabling you to stand straight and take in your surroundings. As you stretched out your back you stared in awe at the sight before you. 

Dozens upon dozens of glowing mushrooms covered the room, growing across the walls and floor of the cave. The view was nothing short of dazzling, the light blue glow illuminating the space around you like nothing you had ever seen. 

You approached the fungus carefully, although they were beautiful, you knew well that not all beautiful things were good. You drew a handkerchief from your pocket and crouched forward to grab a sample. 

Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and your blood chilled. You trusted your instincts and rapidly jerked backwards from the mysterious mushrooms. Unfortunately, you were not fast enough. 

The gills of the mushrooms expanded and expelled a great mist of spores. The sickly sweet-smelling mist filled the room instantly and you yelped in surprise, feeling your way out of the room and back into the tunnel. You coughed as you darted through the veins of the cave desperate for fresh air and open spaces. You could hear Shanks calling out to you and you forced yourself to push forward toward his voice. 

Shanks was anxious from the moment he heard you cry out. He felt helpless, unable to fit into the cave. He briefly considered blowing a hole through the mountainside to get to you. Thankfully, hearing your panting and clawing as you made your way out of the cave stopped him. He placed his hand above the cave opening and began calling out to you, begging you to keep moving toward him. 

Shanks wasn’t prepared for what came out of that cave. 

You stumbled out of the suffocating walls and fell onto the grass in front of your captain. You could vaguely hear Shanks, his voice filled with worry, but you barely registered it. Something was wrong. Your clothes felt tight and itchy, you felt your cheeks warm while the rest of your body developed goosebumps from the jungle air hitting your skin. And most troubling, everything from the deepest part of your core felt tight and ticklish. 

Shanks knelt down, grabbing your shoulder to lift your gaze to him. The contact between the two of you sent electric shocks to your core. Sitting face to face with your captain you could barely breathe. At this distance, every feature of his face was at your fingertips. You took in your captain's features. The jagged shape of the scars that ran down his face, the prickly stubble he grew across his chin, his eyes bright with worry, the color of his lips…  It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. 

“Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N! What happened in there? What's going on?!” 

The seriousness of his tone did not reach you. Why did he look so worried? You wanted him to smile at you like before. You reached up and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. Taken aback by this gesture, Shanks froze for a moment, then grabbed your hand, pressing it to his face harder. “Y/N. I need you to tell me what happened in there. You can do that for me, right?”

Your eyes widened, coming back to your senses you groaned as you tried to move away from Shanks and stand, only to find that your legs were jelly. “Capt’n. What's happening?” 

Shanks let out a shaky laugh, “Well that's the million berri question right now, kid. Tell me what happened in the cave so I can help.” 

You push your hands into your eyes, struggling to retrieve your memories, “The glow,” you whispered, “The glow in the cave. It was some kinda, I dunno, mushroom. It puffed some dust on’ta me.” you panted your words out. 

“Good girl,” Shanks stroked your hair with his hand, “Now tell me, what did this mushroom look like?”

“Was so pretty, just like the sea. Blue and glowing.” You smiled at the memory of the beautiful sight. 

While you reminisced on the memory, Shanks froze, overcome with the realization of what he was dealing with.

 It happened several years before you joined the Red Hair Pirates. Shanks and Beckman were wasting the night away at some bar when a woman approached him. He had noticed the dark-haired beauty staring at him from across the bar but had paid no attention. It wasn't uncommon for him to get stares as an infamous pirate.

The woman set down a blue sparkling drink in front of Shanks, “Don't think you're from around here, handsome.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, “How about we get to know each other over a couple’a drinks?”

Beckman stifled a snicker and Shanks shot him a glare. Looking back up at the woman, Shanks politely declined her advances, “Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not looking for any more company tonight,” Shanks slapped Beckman hard on the back making him wince, “This fella’s all the entertainment I'll need for the night.”

The woman tried to hide her annoyance with a smile, “Well then, sorry for interrupting.” She sneered as she turned away, “But the drink’s still on me. Do enjoy.” 

Shanks and Beckman eyed each other and the drink skeptically. “Poison?” Asked Beckman bluntly. 

Shanks let out a hearty laugh, “Well, only one way to find out!” And downed the sickly blue drink in seconds. 

Shanks was stuck in his room the rest of the night, fisting his cock and rutting into his mattress. He admitted it wasn't his best decision. Hongo guessed that based on the color he likely ingested an aphrodisiac made from a plant called the lagneía fungi. “I've heard of petty thieves using it on pirates to steal their loot.” Hongo looked at Shanks scornfully, “Can't believe our captain fell for something like that …”

Shanks shook his head refusing to believe the evidence right in front of him. No! It can't be that. He brought his gaze back down at you and examined your face. You were flushed red, your pupils were dilated, and your gaze wandered across his body. He reached out to touch your arm and you gasped, goosebumps exploding from his touch. He really couldn't deny it any longer. 

“Alright Y/n, don’t worry. You’re going to be just fine, just try not to panic.” Shanks spoke, trying to reassure the both of them. Despite his words, Shanks himself was panicking. What was he going to do with you? Sure, it's just an aphrodisiac, but truthfully the experience was borderline torture. Furthermore, judging by how quickly its effects were overcoming you, you must have gotten a serious dosage in your system. If you were a male member of his crew he would laugh it off and condemn you to your bunk with a porno mag like he had done for himself. But how could he let you of all people suffer alone like this? 

“Am I gonna die? Everything feels weird,” tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, “like I’m on fire.” 

“You’re not going to die.” Shanks insisted, “You’re just, going to be… uncomfortable for a little while. Let’s get you back to the ship so you can lie down.” Shanks bent down and grabbed one of your arms to maneuver you onto his back. Hoisting you up, your breath hitched as your center came into contact with Shanks’ back.

Shanks took off at a brisk pace, navigating the rough jungle terrain. You tried to take Shank’s advice to calm yourself, but you were distracted by the friction created between you and Shanks as he strode back to the ship at an agonizing pace. Everywhere you were touching him felt hot and unbearable. You began to feel a familiar sensation brewing in your lower abdomen. No way, there’s no way! You panicked at the feeling and tried to create distance between you and Shanks to alleviate the burning coil between your legs, but he gripped your thigh back, securing you to his back. “Stop squirming, are you trying to fall over?” 

“Captain, ugh.” You buried your head in his back, panting from the unintentional pleasure, “Please slow down. Wait, please sto- Ah!” Suddenly the pressure built up to its peak. You squirmed and shook against your Captain’s back, fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to control your movements or your voice. With a final moan and gasp, you pushed yourself backward off of Shanks’ back onto the jungle floor. 

Shanks circled back on his heels to find you curled up on the ground, “What are you doin-”

The realization hit him. He noted your shaking legs and rapid breaths and suddenly he became aware of a slightly damp spot on his back where your bodies had just been connected. He grappled with his own arousal seeing you like this, disheveled and glassy-eyed. 

“God, Captain. I’m so sorry,” You covered your face with your hands, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I couldn’t stop myself.” 

Shanks was kicking himself mentally as he watched you before him. Here you were feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and vulnerable; yet, there he was feeling himself getting hard at the sight. He’d wanted you for so long, wanted to make you his. Shanks licked his lips. He pushed down his indecent thoughts and turned his attention back to you. This wasn’t the time. You needed to get back to the ship, and right now that’s all that mattered. 

In one swift movement, he scooped you up, placing a hand under your legs, carrying you in his arm. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck in embarrassment as he took off running. He was fast. You felt the wind on your face as he swiftly maneuvered through the trees at a great speed, his black coat flapping in the wind behind him.  It took less than a minute for him to reach the ship. Shanks bounded onto the deck and managed to avoid the eyes of the returning crew. Reaching his room, he quickly ducked in and closed the door behind him, causing maps and papers to fly in all different directions. 

Shanks walked with you in his arm over to his bed and laid you down as gently as he could. “Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he slipped his hand through your hair and gripped the back of your neck to force you to look at him. You looked up at him dazed, trying your best to concentrate on what he was telling you rather than the feeling of his hand on your neck. “You’re not dying. Those spores were an aphrodisiac,” He looked at you hard, making sure you understood what he was saying, “That’s why you’re feeling like this.” 

You groaned and tried to hide your face out of embarrassment, but Shanks held you firm. “I’m going to get Hongo, he might be able to find some sort of sedative to help you work through this. You might have a shitty night, but I promise you’re going to be alright. I’ll be right back, ok?” He said softly.

Shanks lightly rubbed the back of your neck with his thumb before turning to leave, but you sat up and clutched his shirt to pull him back, “No! Please don’t. Don’t get Hongo.” You buried your head in his shirt, “I don’t want anyone seeing me… like this.”

Shanks’ gaze softened, “Y/N, Hongo is a professional, he’ll definitely be able to help.” 

“No...I don’t…I can’t have anyone see me like this, please Captain. I-” your voice cracked, “I worked too hard to gain respect on this ship. Please. Don’t let anyone see me like this.”

Shanks began to disagree, “Hongo really would know the best way to deal with this, Y/N…” he stopped upon seeing the panic in your eyes. He sighed as he relented, “But, I’ll keep this between us for now. If that’s what you really want.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived. The aching between your legs was demanding attention, and you didn’t know how much longer you could restrain yourself from tending to it. 

“Y/N.” You looked back up at Shanks, “If you really intend to deal with this on your own, the only way I know you can find relief is to stimulate yourself or… have sex.” Shanks kept your gaze as he spoke. “I’ll leave you my room. At least that way you can have some privacy while you deal with this. I’ll make sure nobody comes in here. You have my word.” 

“Captain…” You found it hard to look him in the eye, you knew what you were about to ask wasn’t right, “Please. Don’t leave me.”

Shanks froze, for a moment he was speechless, he waited for you to meet his gaze and searched your eyes, “Y/N, do you really understand what you're asking right now?”

“I-” You doubled back over struggling to compose yourself, gripping Shanks silk sheets. Just imagining sleeping with your captain was enough to make your arousal unbearable. Despite your best judgment you shakily reached down and palmed in-between your legs, exhaling from the slight relief it gave you. You looked back up to Shanks, eyes pleading, “I can barely manage this right now. I can't do this alone. I'm begging you, please Shanks.” 

Shanks stared at you, mouth agape and spellbound by the proposition. He could feel his mouth watering and his pants tighten. Shanks remembered just how miserable he had been with just the small dosage he’d taken, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine the turmoil that was currently wrecking your body. He balled his fist gathering the last bit of restraint he had and whispered, “It… wouldn’t be right of me to do this. You’re not in your right mind, you’d take anyone in your condition-”

“No. You’re wrong,” you were breathing heavily, choosing your words carefully, “I couldn’t bear it being anyone else. I want it to be you… Unless,” Your breath hitched, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer to the question you were about to ask, “do you not… want me?”

This was the final straw for Shanks. You had broken the great Emperor who’d tried so desperately to do the right thing. His resolve crumbled at your words and he found himself lunging toward you. He pounced over you, throwing you back onto his mattress as his lips crashed onto yours. Your senses exploded with electricity by his contact and you moaned into his mouth, eagerly accepting more. It was utterly overwhelming and you couldn't control the noises that escaped from your mouth as Shanks pushed your hand away to tend to your clit himself, shoving his hand down your pants.

Shanks briefly separated your lips and breathed heavily trailing kisses along your cheek and to your forehead, “I’ll ask you… one more time,” he muttered between pecks, “Are you sure about this?” He pulled back to meet your eyes. 

“Old man,” you huffed at him, “Won’t you shut up and put your mouth to good use for onc-” 

Shanks didn’t let you finish your sentence and forced your mouth wider to deepen your kiss as he worked to slip your pants off. Once they were off you spread your legs obediently for him, pushing your hips against his hand for more friction. With your pants out of the way, Shanks had more freedom to explore your folds. His thumb kept a steady rhythm on your bud as his other fingers dove lower. He smiled as he found how soaked you were for him. He gathered copious amounts of slick from your pussy, and used it to tease you further. Shanks moved his mouth down your neck, leaving dark spots where he sucked and teased. 

You could already feel that you were close to climax, you squirmed and whined for more. Shanks relented to your obvious request and slipped two fingers inside you. The gratifying release was instantaneous. You gripped Shanks’ arm as he massaged your walls through your orgasm. He reveled at just how seductive your body was and how your pussy gripped his fingers tightly. 

Shanks lifted his head out from the crook of your neck and glanced over to you, but you were worlds away. His whole body reacted when he finally saw you in shambles from his touch. Tears streamed down your reddened face, unable to concentrate on anything besides how good you felt, you just focused on trying to catch your breath. It was all so overwhelming, Shanks’ touch, his kisses, and his scent all around you. 

Shanks’ breath hitched as he let out a snide laugh, “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut you up, brat.” 

Shanks pulled away from you for a moment and the sudden loss of contact made you whimper. Shanks scolded you, “Quiet now, it’s not good to be impatient, Y/N.” Shanks teased as he shook off his coat and lifted his shirt above his head, discarding it onto the floor.  You watched, entranced by the way his muscles moved. His broad shoulders and massive tanned biceps patterned with scars. You felt the heat grow again as he turned back to you. 

You pouted at Shanks’ words, “It’s a little difficult being patient when you're so horny you feel like you're gonna explode!” You huffed, frowning dramatically. “Being in a hot man’s bed and watching him strip is not helping my situation.” 

You immediately regretted your words as you watched his brow rise and a wicked smile form on his face. “A “hot man,” you say. Is that what you think of me?” 

“Don’t get cocky,” you spat back, staring him down. He glared back, not backing down from your challenge. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted him.  

With a mischievous smile, Shanks crawled back over to you, placing his knee strategically between your legs pushing into the wet spot of your underwear. He ground his leg as he reached his arm up to pull off your shirt, you lifted your arms to make it easier. Shanks sighed with bliss as your breasts came into view, no bra in sight. 

You gasped as Shanks’ hand groped one of your breasts and his mouth found the other. You leaned back and interlaced your fingers in Shanks' hair stroking and pulling on the red strands. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent as he devoured you. 

Shanks released his lips off of your nipple with a pop and moaned, “In all my years,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve never wished so much that I had both of my hands again.” 

You couldn't help but laugh at this statement, it was just too ridiculous. Shanks eyed you curiously, “Are you laughing at your Captain? Or, are you going to start calling me by my name like you did before?” Shanks’ mouth moved lower down your body, kissing your stomach as he trailed down, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you called me ‘Shanks’ earlier. What made you think you could drop honorifics with your Captain like that?” 

All you could do was watch him as his lips moved closer and closer to your core, you were speechless with anticipation. Shanks played with the fabric of your underwear, tracing the hem and circling lower towards your clit. You jumped from the sensation. “Though, I have to admit. I did like the sound of my name on your lips.” He continued to tease you with both his words and his movements. 

“Please, just touch me already, I can’t-”

“Call me by my name again. Then I’ll consider helping you.” Shanks was enjoying this far too much. His eyes twinkled up at you as he grazed your hip bone with his fingertips. 

You gave in immediately, your pride nowhere to be found, “Shanks. Please make me feel good. I’m begging, Shanks.” 

“That’s more like it.” Shanks shoved your underwear aside and thumbed your clit roughly. You arched your back at the sudden contact and cried out in pleasure. Shanks was completely enthralled with what was happening in front of him, he couldn't take his eyes away from your glistening pussy, soaking wet, all for him. He wanted more and demanded, “Lift your hips.” 

You immediately obeyed your captain and raised your hips. Shanks grabbed your underwear and ripped them off you. You leaned back with anticipation, but nothing came. You peered up at the red-haired man and you realized he was examining your panties. “Oh. Sorry, I know that old pair isn’t exactly sexy…” You explained self-consciously. Then suddenly, as if he was possessed, he shoved your soaked underwear into his face and inhaled deeply. Your mouth fell open at the sight. At last, when he lowered your panties from his face he stared at you intensely, his eyes drunk and lazy from your scent. 

You watched mesmerized by the man in front of you as he tossed your underwear aside, gripped the back of your thigh with his arm, and shoved it back towards your head. Before you could react to the sudden change of position, Shanks plunged his tongue between your folds and lapped up your juices. You gripped his hair as he indulged in your aroused pussy. Shanks moaned into you as you tightened your grasp and pulled his hair slightly. He felt his hard-on twitch painfully, desperate and leaking with pre-cum. It didn’t take long before you were rutting into his face, chasing another high and coming undone for a third time by your captain. 

As your spasms ceased, Shanks sat back up between your legs. You were mortified to see his face covered in your arousal. You sat up and began to apologize, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry let me just-” You raise your hand to wipe away the creamy slick from his face, only to have it shoved away and to be brought into another hungry kiss. The juices from Shanks’ mouth mixed in with your saliva as your tongues intertwined. 

You were at Shanks’ disposal, at his mercy. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone. It wasn’t enough, not yet. You needed more. Reaching down, you pressed down on the protruding tent that was rising in Shanks’ pants. Shanks pulled away from you slightly and hissed at the contact. You continued to palm at his growing member and whispered, “I want this, Shanks. I want to make you feel good too.” 

Shanks laughed weakly, “Well… if you ask me like that, who am I to say no?” He moved back to sit on his knees and fumbled with his belt and pants. You couldn’t help but smile at how he shakily tripped over his buckle with only one hand. You reached up and helped him by pulling his pants down. Although you knew from feeling him earlier, you were still taken aback by the sheer size of his cock as it nearly smacked you in the face. 

You eagerly eyed his cock and looked up at Shanks hovering above you, “Can I…” you begin as you reach up to take him in your grip, “suck it?” 

Shanks couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you came into contact with his dick. “If- that’s what you want. But only a little. I’m not confident that I’ll last long if yo-” Shanks was cut off by your tongue trailing up the side of his cock. A shiver ran up his spine, and he gripped your hair with his hand to hold on for dear life. You wanted to taste every part of him, you couldn’t hold back. 

You weren’t particularly experienced, but somehow you knew exactly what to do for him. You teased his rosy tip with your tongue, licking circles before wrapping your lips around it. You savored the salty taste and traced your tongue along the veins running down him. There was no way you could take him in his entirety, but you pushed as far as your throat could allow. You only got a few pumps in before Shanks stopped you. “Alright. That’s enough.” He sat back down on his rear and motioned for you to come to him, “This isn’t about me.” Which was true, but he knew his words were just an excuse. He easily could have come from just your tongue if he wasn’t careful. 

You got up on your knees as Shanks requested, and straddled him. His dick sat hard in between the two of you as he pulled you in for another breathtaking kiss while he used his free hand to continue to stretch you out. Finally satisfied with his prep, he broke the kiss and lifted your ass to hover over him. Shanks looked up at you and purred, “I’ll leave this part to you.” He wrapped his large hand around yours and guided it to his throbbing cock, “I don’t want to hurt you. So you need to go at your own pace.” 

You hesitated slightly at his command, insecure about your skills. But whatever shyness you felt about taking the lead was quickly dismissed by your overflowing arousal. With one hand on Shanks’ shoulder to steady yourself and the other seizing his member, you raised your hips to accommodate his height. You rubbed the head of his cock on your dripping pussy and you both hissed from the contact. Once Shanks was properly lubed by your fluids, you held your breath and slowly lowered your hips onto the tip of his cock. The head alone stretched your inner walls with an intensely painful pleasure. You felt overwhelmed by his size and the electric current that emanated from its pressure. You intended to take him slowly and acclimate to his size, but your instincts took control. You wanted to feel full. You wanted to be completely consumed by him. You hastily realigned yourself, took a breath, and slammed your hips down, instantly taking him down to his base. 

Neither of you could keep your voices contained. You let out a moan laced with the pain and pleasure of finally receiving Shanks in his entirety. The feeling was devastating. You gripped Shanks’ head pulling him to your chest as you entangled your fingers in his hair. Shanks cursed as he willed himself to stay in control, the pressure and sensation of your grip was mind-shattering. He wrapped his arm around your waist, gripping your skin to ground himself. 

You didn't give him time to recover. You raised your hips again and slammed down hard against him, receiving a grunt from him. You felt drunk, unable to control your actions, you found yourself rocking into him at an uncontrollable pace. The pain was fading away and was replaced by unbelievable pleasure. You needed more, you needed him everywhere. 

Shanks took advantage of your position above him, trailing kisses along your chest and leaving occasional bruise and bite mark. He used his tongue to tease and suck on your hard nipples. His hand wandered along the length of your back, grazing your spine with his fingertips leaving you gasping. Even the slightest touch on your body created an unbearable reaction, flooding your senses with bliss. 

Shanks’ hand continued to explore your body, ticking the nape of your neck, pinching your nipples, and finally falling between your legs. He flicked and rubbed your clit as you rode him at an alarming pace. You felt yourself nearing another climax as the coil in your core began to tighten. You chased the high as you ground against him, willing yourself to continue despite feeling like you were on the brink of collapse. 

Your climax hit you like a train, bringing earth-shattering pleasure throughout your body. You fell forward, pushing Shanks onto his back as the feeling overtook you, unable to continue. But Shanks wouldn't let you rest and you couldn’t contain your voice as Shanks cruelly thrusted up into you, compelling your senses to disintegrate as he fucked you through your peak.

Your ears deafened and rang as you laid exhausted against Shanks’ wide chest, still twitching on his dick. Shanks slowed his pace and you sat on him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. You felt lighter than when you’d first entered Shanks’ room and your head was clearer, but the burning desire still lay unsatisfied. You tried to sit up to keep riding until your body was appeased, but found yourself collapsing again. Your legs were wobbly, unable to continue. “Shanks,” you whispered, “I think you’re going to have to take over from here. Please.” 

Shanks was still reeling from your ruthless pace on his dick. He looked up at you, astonished that you still had the energy to keep going. “So demanding. You’re making me forget I’m the captain here.” Shanks sat up and reversed your positions, laying you flat on your back as he hovered over you, “But, I guess I’ll follow your command this time, Captain.” 

Shanks pushed your legs back again and took a moment to examine your swollen pink pussy. It dripped and pulsed in anticipation, making it obvious that the mushroom was still wreaking havoc on your nerves. Shanks knew you wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer and decided to bring this to an end as soon as possible. He positioned himself above you and gripped his cock. Pushing it on you, he teased your clit with his tip for a moment before moving lower and watching in awe as you swallowed his thick cock to the brim of his balls. 

You gripped the sheets around you tightly, this felt even deeper than before, he was reaching far down inside and rubbing all your sensitive spots. He sat there a moment breathing deep with his eyes closed, feeling the deepest corners of your pussy squeeze and warm him. He was only brought back to reality when you squirmed and whimpered underneath him. You needed more friction, more movement, more anything. Your body was not going to be as patient as Shanks was wanting. 

Shanks opened his eyes and smirked down at you, “Don’t worry,” he gripped your thigh tightly with his hand leaving it stinging, “I’ll give you what you want.” 

Without warning he lifted his hips, leaving his tip barely inside you, and plowed himself into you as deep and as hard as he could. You choked on your own breath as he pulled out and hammered down into you again, and again. He set an abusive pace, each stroke hitting your deepest nerves and causing waves of spine-tingling pleasure.

Your heightened senses multiplied every feeling, every touch, and every kiss. You felt as if your body was going to disintegrate underneath Shanks. The sensation in your body was unfamiliar and frightening and it was becoming too much. You put your hands on Shanks’ chest in a half-hearted attempt to slow him down, but his merciless tempo continued to wreck your body. Twitching from pleasure, you attempted again to turn your body to run from the feeling. It was all too intense, it was too good and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Before you could move away Shanks forced you back into position and entangled his hand with yours. His thrusts persisted as he leaned down his head next to yours and whispered gruffly into your ear, his slurring voice tickling your neck, “This is what you wanted, right? What you needed? Take it for me. Be a good girl for me.” 

You were nearly comatose from the pleasure racking your body. Just from his words, you reached another climax, and Shanks fucked you through it once again. Your eyesight became hazy and you knew you needed to ground yourself. Out of desperation, one of your hands reached out to claw his back and the other clenched his hair. You opened your mouth and bit down hard on Shanks’ shoulder. Shanks hissed harshly as your teeth pierced his shoulder, yet he found himself smiling. Your disobedience had always been a turn-on for him. Excited from the pain, he moaned into your ear, “I’m- close. So close.” 

“Come in me.” You cried out. You knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it. “Please come in me, Shanks. Please… Please… Please,” tears ran down your cheeks and you lost all sense of self. All you knew was that you wanted Shanks, every last bit of him.  

It took all of Shanks’ willpower not to fulfill your request. 

Every last instinct in Shanks’ body willed him to release inside you, to truly make you his. But his reasoning prevailed. He knew that despite everything he could not do that to you in this state. So, with a few final harsh thrusts, Shanks pulled his cock out and released his warm come across your stomach. 

Shanks collapsed next to you, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Everything around him felt fuzzy as he came down from his orgasmic high. Once he finally caught his breath again, he turned over and reached for you. 

You had passed out. 

 …

You woke with a jolt of pain as you turned over on your side in your sleep. Groaning, you shifted your body to try and stretch out your achy muscles. However, you realized that you couldn’t move. There was a weight laying across your abdomen… and your leg… and there was something pressed up against your back…

Your eyes snapped open. 

You weren’t in your room, that was obvious. But where were you? You turned slightly to lay on your back, and looking down you saw an arm strewn across your stomach. Horrified, your eyes trailed up to see whose arm it was. It took everything in you not to scream as you realized you were entangled in your captain's sleepy limbs. 

Your mind raced, desperate to remember what happened. You were exploring the island, Shanks came with you, you went into the cave and… 

It all came flooding back. 

You lay there in shock. 

What was going to happen now? What if someone saw you? Would you have to leave the ship? 

Your eyes wandered to where he lay, breathing deep in his slumber. He was shirtless and you couldn’t help but stare. Looking down you realized you weren’t wearing your own clothes, but rather an oversized off-white button-down shirt. It was obvious that Shanks lent you his own shirt. What a gentleman, you thought sarcastically as your body ached. But, you couldn’t help yourself, you turned your body to face him for a better look at the man before you, admiring his strong features. 

As you savored the view in front of you, Shanks willed his body to sit as still as possible. He had woken up nearly an hour before you had and had spent the time watching you sleep, stroking your hair, and indulging in the feeling of sleeping next to you. He panicked when you shifted in your sleep and decided to pretend to be asleep. To his surprise, you hadn’t gotten up to leave, and he could feel your warm gaze on his face. He savored this morning, never wanting it to end. 

The peaceful moment was ruined in an instant. 

Shanks’ bedroom door flew open with a loud crash as none other than Benn Beckman strode in. You and Shanks’ eyes flew open and met each other in horror before turning your attention to the trespasser. Beckman didn’t get more than three steps into his Captain’s room when he realized what he stumbled in on. 

There was a moment of silence, all three of you stared at each other, taking in the information in front of you. 

Finally, you came to your senses and flung the sheets over yourself to hide from the embarrassment. You felt Shanks’ hand lay protectively on your back as you hid, “Beckman,” He spoke sharply, “you’d better have a good reason for barging into my room.” 

Beckman gulped, “Definitely not a good enough reason for this.” 

“Right. Beckman?” 

“Yes?” 

“Leave. Now.” 

“Right. Don’t have to tell me twice.” Beckman turned to the door and stepped out of the room. You peeked out of the blankets and saw Beckman pause before closing the door behind him. He looked back at you and Shanks sternly, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” 

And with that, he closed the door. 

You peeled back the covers and emerged next to Shanks. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, both pondering Beckman’s statement. He had a good point. What were you going to do now? Mushroom or not, the two of you crossed the boundary between captain and crewmate. Would you both ignore it and pretend nothing happened? 

Your mind was spinning down all the possibilities that were laid out in front of you. Shanks thought your ears would start smoking soon, and he spoke first. Laying you back down on his arm he spoke two simple sentences that made you relax and settle down to sleep.

“Let’s worry about this tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊 authors note: HUGE shout out to @nanpecan for editing this and helping me not sound illiterate