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notjustjavierpena · 5 months

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Heat

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Many many moons ago (this might be an exaggeration), I wrote a direct message to @undercoverpena about one of her text posts that sent me into a horny spiral. I loved it. You can read the text post here. At lot happened since then, and I bet you all that she must have forgotten or thought I would not finish it, but alas I return from the dead.

Summary: Javier looks so delicious doing hard work under the sun. The kids aren’t home. Heat is not just what the sun gives, it can also be a state of your body.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, clit stim, piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, rough sex, javi p is sweaty and you are horny

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51636391

Heat

It’s a thousand degrees outside.

It’s the beginning of autumn and it’s boiling hot, so warm that one cannot fully enjoy the weather when it makes everything feel crispier. You’ll be damned if you are going to spend the sparse and sacred hours of being childfree inside your house with a pout though, because your father-in-law has the kids after a long period of him being unable to babysit.

One would think that now that your three children are in Abuelo Chucho’s hands, it would mean having a long-awaited, as well as well-deserved, date night with your husband, but Javier has decided to spend the day renovating the back porch in the heat. You haven’t rolled your eyes at him yet, but the urge has been there several times.

You sit on the porch swing, dangling your feet just above the wooden boards that are soon to be removed and replaced. There’s a glass of cold lemonade in your hand, a bee buzzing somewhere nearby.

Javier is in the shed at the back of the garden. You can hear him move things around, occasionally letting out a swear word moments after something clatters to the floor with a loud bang.

You sip your lemonade through its straw. The honey bee has found the bush of lavender, and you let your eyes close to listen to the sounds of late summer, the start of fall. The sun dances on your lids, sweat forms at the small of your back just above your shorts and right below your cropped t-shirt.

After a few minutes where you’ve leaned back into the backrest of the porch swing, and nearly fallen asleep, you hear Javier returning. Automatically, your eyes open at hearing him speak.

“Hey, enjoying yourself?” He has come over to peck your lips. You allow it, holding up the glass of lemonade afterward to watch his lips close around the straw. He takes a long sip whilst his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Gotta stay hydrated if you want to work in this heat,” you note.

“Just gonna be all pretty sitting there and watching me?” He asks after swallowing, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his Adam's Apple bobs.

“Mh-hm,” you nod without saying much, knowing you’ll break if you try to get an actual sentence out.

“Alright,” he just replies, and you swear you catch some sort of undertone in his voice. He kisses you again, lingering a second too long for you to be indifferent towards it, and then stretches again. A less collected version of you wants to undo his belt right there, but you let him go instead. Not without regret though.

And then he starts working, dragging planks across the soon-naked porch deck, and you start sweating even more at the sight. Even moreso at the grunts he elicits during his labor.

Javier is beautiful underneath the burning sun, sweat-slicked chest hair peeking out from under his grayish shirt that he has unbuttoned at the top. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows because they cannot go up any further than that, tightening around the beginnings of his biceps and causing your head to swim when you think about those arms around you.

You allow yourself to ogle him as he is lost in the task. The straw in your lemonade sits in your mouth, your tongue curling around it briefly before you sip to clench your thirst. There’s sweat collecting on Javier’s brow, threatening to drip down, and when it finally does slide down the side of his head, your eyes burn from refraining from blinking as you watch the beads roll down his neck and into the clavicle of it. You press your thighs together.

The gray shirt has darkened in color around his shoulders due to dampness. Whenever Javier turns his back to you, you can see the darker patch has reached his lower back too. Your tongue darts out to lick at nothing around your mouth, and you know that your husband would laugh at you if he saw it.

There’s something dirty about watching the way he brushes slick hair from his forehead. He has knelt down on the deck by now, occasionally on all fours when he reaches for something in front of himself, and when he gets really concentrated, straining his back muscles so much that the shirt starts fighting for its life, he pulls a face that nearly makes you fall off the porch swing.

You bite your lip, choose your words but none seems to do the job so you settle for something more simple, “Javi.”

“Sí, mi amor?” Javier doesn’t look up.

You remind yourself that he has talked about redoing the porch since his father agreed to take the kids. You won’t spoil it for him, and you know that a half-finished project with three kids is not an ideal situation for you, so you compose yourself.

“I think I need to get out of the sun for a bit, can I get you some water?” You ask instead of getting on your knees to beg - or more - and then you walk past him.

“Sure,” he replies as you pass him, and it makes you unable to see the smirk on his face, “Water would be great. Thanks, honey.”

Inside the kitchen, you fill a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. You even get a few ice cubes from the tray in your freezer but instead of dumping them into your husband’s drink, you hold them against your chest with a sigh of relief. Something burns in the pit of your stomach, even more when you return to the porch and hand Javier the glass of water. He hasn’t gotten less enticing; shirt clinging to him, hair sticking to his forehead, a groan as he gets up from the floor.

“Should be done by tomorrow,” he says as he takes the glass from your hand, causing a bolt of electricity to shoot down your spine as your fingers brush. It’s ridiculous since both of you know that he is yours already.

“Mm-hm,” you watch him gulp down nearly all of his drink.

And then he does something that you might never recover from; he pours the remaining water over himself in an attempt to cool down. It wets his hair even more, and he runs his thick fingers through it to shake out the excess droplets.

Time stands still. Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse traveling through your veins until you can feel the throbbing of each heartbeat between your legs. You press your thighs together and let out a whimper of breath.

“Baby?” You say softly to earn a hm? It feels shameful to meet Javier’s eyes. However when you do, you notice his pupils have dilated in desire, gaze flickering down your body for the shortest time, and you choose to strike.

You step into Javier’s personal space, hand reaching up to lie on his chest. The soft pads of your fingers rest on his skin where his buttons are undone, and you try to keep a doe-eyed look on your face as you rub his exposed skin gently.

“I was thinking,” you start, trail off.

“Yes?” He drags the word out. You can hear the smirk on his face but it feels too vulnerable to look him in the eye.

“Since we’re alone,” you continue, gaze fixated on the chest hair that is exposed in the heat, “And since there’s air conditioning inside, we could do something together.”

“Do what?” He says like someone who has figured you out. His strong hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, lifting your palm to his mouth. He kisses it.

Your face burns with embarrassment at the fact that you can barely contain yourself in his presence. That and the fact that it is usually so easy, so why does it feel so difficult to ask for what you want?

“You know what.”

“I need you to say it, need you to ask for it, mi vida,” he teases and places your hand on the side of his face. He releases a breath at your touch, eyes fluttering closed so you feel brave enough to look up at his face. He leans further into you and looks as ready as you to give in.

“I need you to touch me,” your voice trembles. Javier just barely shudders at hearing your words, opening his eyes once more to reveal their darkened color.

“Touch you where?” Javier continues his little game. He mirrors you, touches your face too, “Here?”

“No.”

His hand moves down to brush your neck, “Here then? It must be here.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Please, Javi.”

Javier’s hand slides down your front and settles on the exposed skin of your belly. It causes you to hold your breath. Then it goes down, slips past the elastic band of your shorts and into your damp underwear. You gasp as two of his fingers slide through the wetness between your legs, tips finding your pulsing clit immediately after. Thank God you have hedges around the back garden and thank God that they’re tall enough to keep prying eyes away from the scene that unfolds.

“What about here? I hope it’s here because I don’t want to stop,” he rubs you off slowly until your legs start to shake underneath you. He works his fingers back and forth, from side to side, one on either side of your clit and something builds and builds and—

You come with a little cry and bury your face in Javier’s chest. Your hand on the side of his face falls down to his shoulder which you grip as you soak your underwear even more, thighs trapping his hand as they clamp together. As your head spins, Javier chuckles out a swear word above you.

“Never gets old,” he adds and you start giggling.

After a few seconds of letting you breathe, Javier cups your face and lifts your lips to his own in a kiss that tells you everything you need to know, where you’re heading, which direction. You kiss him back slowly and he licks the inside of your mouth, guides you toward the screen door that leads inside of the house. He has you, you want to say, body and soul.

“Let me take my beautiful wife to bed,” he begs and you nod repeatedly, mumbling a soft plea. He peppers you with sweet kisses that turn more heated as you get closer to the bedroom door. He toes off his shoes on the way, leaving them forgotten in the hallway along with pieces of clothing that he sheds you and himself of.

When you’re both naked, sticking together from the sweat that is already shining on your skin, he hoists you up and carries you to the bed effortlessly. You cling to him by wrapping your limbs around his body, and he kneels down on the bed and places you on your back - and then he doesn’t leave but instead melts into you.

“Te deseo mucho, mi amor,” he murmurs and crushes you so heavenly with his weight, connecting his lips to your throat and sucking a purple mark onto your skin. You’ll scold him for it later but right now, you simply whine. His voice vibrates against your neck, “You really thought all I was gonna do was redo the stupid porch? Not do you?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you bite back with no real hostility, first snorting at his choice of words and then letting out a sigh as he continues tasting your salty skin, “I was ready to go insane, so please fuck me.”

“Dramatic as ever,” he teases and then holds himself up with one arm so he can reach down between your bodies. You bend your legs and let your knees fall out to the sides, breath hitching until it becomes a whimper when the head of Javier’s cock slides through your folds.

“Please,” you say, and have never been so willing. His cockhead catches on your clit, and your moan comes out a lot louder than intended. You are just about to cover your mouth with your hand when you realize you don’t have to; you can cry and whine and scream all you want to. It makes you yearn for him in a newfound sense and makes you want to scream already.

“Paciencia, mi amor,” he tuts but still reads your mind. He enters you a moment later, pushing inside easily from the slick that’s already smearing your inner thighs. He groans as you take him, eyes intensely focused on yours whilst stretching your pussy open in a delicious sting. Your hands find his broad shoulders instead of their usual place clamped down on your mouth. You let yourself be noisy as you adjust.

“That’s it,” he slurs, “Be noisy all you want. Good girl.”

When he pulls out and eases back in, the two of you moan in unison. He does it again but follows it up with a breathless laugh when your noises already climb in pitch.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says soothingly as if you’ve hurt yourself.

But then he shows no mercy and speeds up. His rhythm becomes something else entirely; hard and fast, sending the eyes in your head rolling backward into your skull with a f-fuck dripping from your lips.

Everything is so different. Usually, you breathe so deeply into each other’s bodies, connecting your lips whenever the other is about to give away what the two of you are doing to the rest of the house. Your noses will bump against each other as you are impossibly close to one another, an occasional h-ah escaping your mouth or a low grunt from Javier’s, and if not even a kiss can cover up the noises, Javier’s strong hand or your own will cover your mouth as you cry through the most intense orgasms a man has ever given you.

But now. Oh God. Javier is making you sing until the house is shaking, every noise bouncing off the walls to ricochet right back to your ears. You can hear yourself sound obscene as he makes you come a second time, wanton moans falling from your slack mouth. You tremble, thighs jiggling along his sides as he drives his cock into you to prolong your pleasure.

“There you are, Christ, you are perfect,” he praises, continues to pound your oversensitive cunt, “Let it all out, baby.”

“More,” you beg, “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grunts.

You reach down between your legs as best as you can, already thinking of a third orgasm now that your clit is untouched. If not only to shout yourself hoarse.

Javier traps you between his arms, propping himself up on his forearms and sliding his fingers into your hair. He tugs slightly as he rolls his hips, pain erupting from your sensitive follicles and adding to your third high that is building.

You circle your clit fast, barely able to contain yourself as your cunt goes off into delicious spasm. You think you might actually start crying with how intense it feels, Javier’s cock twitching inside of you whilst he moans too. He buries his face in your shoulder.

“Don’t pull out,” you gasp up at the ceiling, nails creating little crescent marks on the muscles of his broad shoulder, “Javi, oh fuck, come in me. Don’t pull out. Pleasepleaseplease.”

The comment makes Javier pull back a little, raising himself on his elbow to look down at you. His fingers are still in your hair, an occasional moan tumbles out of his mouth as he continues reaching deep inside of you, and his eyes bore into yours. He furrows his brow from being so close, barely able to speak from how ragged his breathing is.

“What—?” He grunts. Any moment now.

“Not ovulating,” you moan back at him, tightening your legs around his waist to punctuate your want, your need. You try meeting his every thrust to encourage his own high, “Please, baby. Need you to come in me.”

“Mierda, estas una chica sucia,” his hips stutter, “You love getting filled to the brim, don’t you?”

You nod frantically.

“Just want me to keep knocking your sweet cunt up, huh?” He moans.

“Yes. Whole fucking football team.”

“C’mere,” he catches your mouth in a heated kiss, nodding slightly, but it turns messy as soon as he gets to orgasm. He whimpers into your mouth when he is just on the brink, and then he gasps as the first rope of come starts to fill you. You let out a big sigh against his mouth for show, taking everything he has to give you whilst he shudders in your arms.

It takes a moment to calm down. Your arms rest beside your head and your eyes close, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Above you, Javier hisses when he pulls out of you and you can immediately feel his come dripping out of you.

Javier kisses your exposed chest. He slides his hands up your forearms to eventually hold each of your hands, flopping down onto you again.

“Ice water,” you say after a while of laying together like this.

“Hm?” He squeezes your hands.

“Go get some ice water, your wife is boiling.”

“Fine,” he groans.

When he comes back, he has also brought a towel and you spend the rest of the afternoon trailing ice cubes across your warm skin after cleaning yourself up. It’ll be easier to work in the colder evening sun anyway.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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hearts4golbach · 1 month

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can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff?

Sweater Weather.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

shorter one shot based on "Sweater Weather." By The Neighborhood.

johnnie gripped my hand tightly, dragging me as we ran through the rain. i was giggling like maniac, getting more soaked by the second. the umbrella was no use at this point. johnnies makeup smeared, dripping slowly down his face along with mine.

"god damn, why can't we just go to the gas station in peace?" i squeel, swinging open the car door and jumping inside. i quickly started the car, making sure to turn on the heater so we wouldn't catch a cold.

he slid into the passenger seat as water dripped from the tips of his hair. chills ran down his spine, "jesus, fuck."

"i know," i put the car in reverse and sped down the road.

johnnie quickly connected his phone to the car and put our mixed playlist on shuffle. my current favorite song, 'Sweater Weather' by The Neighborhood, came on. It also happened to be our song.

"all i am is a man, i want the world in my hands."

johnnies hand made its way to my thigh, gently running his thumb over my rough jeans. "the weather is so pretty," i mention.

"i hate the beach, but i stand in California with my toes in the sand."

he looked over, admiring my semi-concentrated face as i paid attention to the road. his eyes trailed over my body. he always loved it whenever i wore my mother's hand-me-down maroon sweater. "i guess, but now my makeup is all fucked up," he complained sarcastically. "i love it whenever we go on drives in this kind of weather."

"Use the sleeves of my sweater. Let's have an adventure."

as we got off the main road, i moved one hand off the steering wheel and onto johnnies. his fingers intertwined with mine as i hummed along with the song. "I'd hate to say I'm dreading the summer, but it's never like this then." i looked towards johnnie, making eye contact as he smiled softly at me.

"Head in the clouds, but my gravity's centered."

"You're beautiful," he interrupts. my face heated up as i turned my attention back to the road, stopping for a red light. he leaned over, kissing my cheek gently. his hand snaked under my chin and turned my head towards him before pecking my lips.

"Touch my neck, and I'll touch yours, you in those little high waisted shorts, oh."

the light turned green, and i kept driving. johnnies leaned on the center console, his hand making its way back to my thigh. he had a soft smile on his face, making me blush. "Your smile is adorable," i commented before singing quietly with the song.

"she knows what i think about, and what i think about: one love, two mouths. one love, one house."

he placed soft, sweet kisses on my neck. my hand met his again as i rubbed circles with my thumb.

"No shirt, no blouse. just us, you find out."

we stopped at the gas station to get fountain drinks. johnnie kissed my forehead as we walked out, drinks in hand.

"Nothing that i wouldn't wanna tell you about, no."

sitting in the passenger seat once more, johnnie sighed contently. "i love you," i hummed.

"cause it's too cold for you here. and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater."

"i love you more," he cooed.

#fanfiction #fanfic #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x you #oneshot #fluff #car ride #sweater #sweater weather #the neighbourhood

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softtdaisy · 11 months

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charles + "please don't tell me we we fell asleep like this."

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Words: 953

A/n: i want what reader has in this story, that’s all i have to say

Ever since you met Charles, each one of your friends was convinced you would be dating anytime soon.

You had mutual friends but never really hung out together. Until you finally attended a Grand Prix weekend. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go there before, you just never really got the time. So when your friends found the perfect opportunity to drag you there, you couldn’t say no.

There was something magnetic about Charles. You realized that through the weekend, when you met him before a race and would give you that beautiful smile that made his dimples glow. Or when he would give you a look after the qualifications as if he had been looking for you. Like he was waiting for you to congratulate him for the pole. And you noticed all of this because you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

But it wasn’t until the party held on Sunday night, to celebrate his win, that your friends really started to bet on your future relationship. They noticed the look you gave each other across the room, or the way he clenched his drink so hard they thought he would break it when he saw you talking with someone else. The confirmation that the universe was creating something in front of their eyes went after.

When, after a few drinks, you both started to sing some Abba songs together to the point he even threatened the dj to keep playing them. There were tons and tons of videos from that night; you singing, dancing together because of course you created some choreographies. Everyone told you it was obvious.

Was it really?

You started to hang out with them more. And went to different race weekends after this one. You told your friends that it wasn’t for Charles, that you just fell in love with the feeling of being there. And you weren’t technically lying.

Charles was just more involved than you wanted to admit.

But that doesn’t mean you started to date. No. You were just flirting all the time. From leaving each other's subtle messages, to wink and smile across the room even if everyone could see that. From Charles giving you his Ferrari sweater because you were cold to letting him put his head on your shoulder, and playing with his hair, because he was tired after the race.

You were attracted to each other. You appreciated each other more than you were willing to admit. Yet, you were both scared of starting something new and serious. The idea of being together came with the fear of losing the other. And none of you were ready for that yet.

Your friends were going crazy over this. And when you all decided to go on vacation together during the summer break, they were convinced you would face your feelings and finally admit you loved each other.

The first night was not conclusive. Expect for the moment where Charles refused someone’s advances by looking at you and saying that he already had somebody on his mind. Joris almost hit him when he heard him. “And you can’t say that to her, imbécile?”

The following days were not either, except for some soft moments like tasting the others’ ice cream or putting sunscreen on each other. A moment your friends qualified as almost erotic. It wasn't. At least you hope it wasn’t.

Then it happened.

There was one night where you couldn’t go out because of the weather. So you spent the evening all together in the villa, partying and having fun. Probably the best night from the whole vacation.

The following morning, when you woke up, you didn’t recognize your bed. First, because normally it smelled like laundry and cotton. This time, it smelled great. Different. Better.

Second, because you knew damn well that nobody was sleeping in your bed normally. And this time, you didn’t feel the mattress. Nope. You felt a chest against yours, legs tangled with yours and someone’s breath on your hair.

You weren’t on your bed. And you weren’t alone.

You just had to open one eye to know who was holding on in its arms. Even if, honestly, you already knew from your heart beating faster and this peaceful feeling you had when you woke up. Charles was sleeping like a baby against you, with a soft smile on his face. Like he was having the best night of his life.

You appreciated this moment, trying to memorize this feeling of waking up next to Charles to feel it forever. Until it hit you. If you weren’t in a bedroom, that meant anyone could see you like this. “Please don't tell me, we fell asleep like this." you mumbled for yourself, hoping that maybe it happened after everyone went to sleep.

“Oh yes you did.” you heard someone say. You looked up and saw Joris, with his coffee mug in his hand and a proud smile on his face. He laughed at your shocked face. “Don’t worry, we took pictures to remember this.”

You put your arms up to give him the middle finger. Which, of course, made him laugh even harder. But then you felt your arm being pulled down again by Charles. “Hmhm pas encore.” he mumbled against your hair.

“Good night, les amoureux.” Joris laughed before going outside to drink his coffee. You rolled your eyes before letting yourself cuddle against Charles again. What’s the point of enjoying this moment? Everyone already knew. And you loved being in the arms of the man that you love.

Because let’s be honest. You don’t dream of waking up like this every single day if you don’t love the person next to you.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc blurb #Charles Leclerc fic #Charles Leclerc fanfic #f1 #f1 story #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #my writing

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revehae · 2 months

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indulgence

pairing ↠ killer!johnny × (f) detective reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, graphic depictions of murder, graphic depictions of violence, noncon, mentions of pregnancy, johnny is 43

summary ↠ you're an accomplished detective in the detroit area and johnny suh is a prolific serial killer. when your department sends you on its behalf to pull back his layers, you attempt to convince johnny to recount his experiences and unravel the mystery once and for all.

wc ↠ 10.3k

a/n ↠ this is a repost. it is connected to do you like it, dr. lee? but can be read as a standalone story. this fic is somewhat darker than my usual fics and i encourage readers to proceed with caution and heed the warnings; you have been advised.

don’t like it, don’t read.

the deepest prick of unease settled through you and you shuddered from its nipping cold.

killers were your forte, but none like this. never in your life had you ever met a killer who’d been at their craft for over a decade. they typically got sloppy after the first half, which insinuated that this johnny suh guy, whoever he was, was far from an ameteur.

“gate twelve,” came the guard’s voice, speaking into a transmitter. he was to escort you to johnny’s holding room.

the gate lifted. behind it, you clocked the riveting face of detroit’s worst nightmare, hands cuffed at his back as he sat facing you. there was a sort of twisted grin on his face, not as if he was excited to have a visitor, but excited his visitor had been you.

“good luck with this guy. officers tried to get him to budge. he didn’t take the fifth, but the bastard’s damn good at talking in circles,” the guard whispered in your ear.

“duly noted,” you replied quietly, stepping further and taking the seat across from johnny.

the guard left you to your devices, shutting the door behind you and leaving through the passage that led to the gate. complete and total privacy was the only way johnny agreed to talk. your department initially refused, insisting there should at least be one or two other officers monitoring the interview, but you let him have his way.

if you wanted to get this man to talk, that was your only option.

“hello, johnny. i’m detective ___ from the detroit police department,” you introduced yourself coolly, cloaking your nerves with confidence. never would you show a guy like this any fear.

johnny hadn’t stopped grinning since he made eye contact with you. you’d seen pictures at most and he was devilishly handsome, even more so in person, but it didn’t compensate for his unsettling aura. “that’s a beautiful name, detective.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, suh.”

“it’s gotten me here,” johnny quipped.

“yes, it has. and i suppose you already know why i’m here.”

“yes, i do,” johnny said, pleasant thus far. “you want me to tell you about the murders.”

you bobbed your head. “i do. you see, you’re an enigma to me, johnny. you turn yourself in, get fingerprinted, and all of the sudden vicap’s going off because your prints are connected to three other crimes over the past twenty-five years.”

johnny feigned surprise. “wow, it’s been that long?”

“it has,” you replied, in spite of knowing he couldn’t have not been aware. “martina mortes in 1998, sabrina lee in 2005, christine dalton in 2013, and the college professor this year.”

johnny leaned back in his chair. “i’m familiar with those names.”

“you should be. you sexually assaulted and murdered these women,” you spat, none too tender. “except for martina mortes. you only strangled her. do you want to tell me why that it is?”

“what’s the weather like today? i haven’t been outside, but summer has been kind to detroit.”

ignoring him, you persisted, “let me guess. she was your first victim and that kill, unlike the others, was spontaneous. her being dead defeated the purpose of the sex act, didn’t it?”

“well, do you like your partners warm or cold, detective?” johnny asked, deflecting.

you were heeding the guard’s warning. it seemed this guy liked to answer questions with questions, your least favorite type of offender. “that’s why when you subsequently added the sex act to part of your crimes, you kept your victims much longer, because you like to see them suffer. until you got bored. then, you killed them and dumped their bodies like trash.”

as if he was disinterested, johnny glanced to the side and yawned.

the audacity on this guy was astounding. “am i boring you, suh?”

johnny replied with total indifference, “if you think you know everything, then why are we here?”

you answered without hesitation, “because i think you’ve wanted to tell someone about what you’ve done for a long time, johnny. but you realize that you’re not like other people. i’m giving you the opportunity to get it all off of your chest.”

johnny cocked his head to the side, as if he was contemplating your offer. his face was borderline inscrutable. it was difficult, if not impossible, to decipher what he was thinking.

you restrained from heaving a breath. there was a crushing weight on your shoulders, the expectation to get this guy to crack. if you couldn’t do it, nobody would - ever. “how many victims do you have?”

“four.” johnny’s answer was quick, automatic. like he didn’t even have to think about it for a second.

folding your arms on the table, you shook your head. “no, i just don’t think that’s true. see, we’re pretty sure martina mortes, your high school girlfriend, was your first victim, and the college professor was your last.”

johnny cocked a brow. “but?”

“but there’s no way someone like you could’ve resisted your urges between four kills over the past two decades and then some.”

there was no point in denying the four victims, because you already had substantial proof. nor did johnny deny that martina was his first victim, because given the decomposition of the bodies, she died long before the other three. admitting that she wasn’t would be admitting that there were unfound others.

and johnny had no intention of implicating himself more than he already had. the only reason he turned himself in was because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable, for whatever reason. he pulled his lips into a mock frown. “your assumptions about my self-restraint are hurtful,” he replied.

whatever, moron, you thought irritability. “i think they’re more than just assumptions.”

johnny teased, “then, let me know when you know something.”

you narrowed your eyes, groaning, “oh, come on. i know and you know that you can’t ignore your desires for a month, let alone over ten years. you have a compulsion. killing makes you feel powerful, it makes you feel in control, and you can’t live without the high it gives you.”

“you make me sound like an addict,” johnny remarked, pretending to be offended.

“it wouldn’t be so far from the truth,” you said, glancing over the file at your end of the table. “the first two kills were seven years apart. the second two kills were ten. full offense, i don’t see how you could control yourself for so long.”

“you can believe what you want, detective. i didn’t kill anyone else,” johnny lied, not that you ever needed to know.

of course, he couldn’t control himself. the second he took someone’s life, it became a part of him, and his purpose in this world became clear to him. for the first time in his life, he felt as if he had something that made living worthwhile.

you surrendered. it was obvious johnny was intelligent and he wouldn’t be easily tricked into confessing. “okay, fine. let’s talk about the victims we know of. tell me about martina mortes.”

“what is there to tell?” johnny asked, brow cocked. “we met in junior high. then, in eleventh grade, we got together.”

“tell me about why you killed her,” you insisted, painfully curious. “it happened in chicago, before you moved to detroit over the summer. you killed her in the heat of the moment.”

johnny gave the impression that he would take a minute to crack, so you were surprised when he said in response to your prodding, “we got into a wrangle, if you will.”

that much was obvious. “what kind of wrangle?”

the garage was hot and the air was stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. to say nothing of the frustration scorching johnny’s skin, his face tensed into an irritated glower.

there was something about women he never liked, the seemingly inherent ability to blow almost anything out of proportion, as exhibited now as his girlfriend screamed in his face. his stepmother was the same, never not coming up with a reason to fuss at him. he was always walking on eggshells around that woman.

martina was bristling. “you always fucking do this, johnny.”

johnny heaved a breath, sighing, “what - what do i always do, martina?”

“you trivialize everything i go through. you make me feel like i’m overreacting when i’m not, you just refuse to hold yourself accountable,” she spat.

“martina, we’re about to go to college, for fuck’s sake! you can’t focus on your academics and goddamn child. i don’t get why you won’t just have an abortion and call it a day,” johnny roared, heating up a thousand degrees.

“god, do you listen to a word that comes out of my mouth? my parents will kill me, johnny. if not for being pregnant at eighteen, then for killing it.”

johnny sighed. “i don’t see the part where that’s my problem.”

tears blurred martina’s eyes. she came up to him, shattered by his careless and embraced by isolation, and bellowed, “you want to know what your problem is? your problem is that you’re an incompetent bastard with no regard for other people!”

johnny’s body was engulfed in flames but his shoulders were cold, and he lost control of his emotions, grabbing martina by the throat. he effortlessly lifted her with a single hand and smashed her against the closest wall none too gently, watching her eyes wince closed.

“you wanna say that again?” johnny asked, nothing short of belligerent.

ache spread out through the back of martina’s head, a ceaseless throbbing worse than any hungover. her feet dangled off of the ground, waving and kicking, fingers weakly prying at the ones pressing down on her windpipe. until she was completely still, legs dropping, hands going limp at her sides.

“i didn’t even realize how long i spent standing there, until she felt… empty, and i knew she was gone,” johnny confessed, but his tone was far from sympathetic. “she scratched me. you know, when she was trying to pry my hands off. i didn’t know until hours later.”

you shook your head, disdainful. “you killed your pregnant girlfriend?”

johnny groaned, “oh, please. i was eighteen. i would’ve been a terrible father.”

“i would be slightly more inclined to accept that as an excuse if it weren’t for the fact that you had a son by sabrina lee only two years later,” you said viciously.

“a lot can change in two years.”

“i’m sure it did.” your eyes flickered over the file again, but nothing would allow you to familiarize yourself with this killer more than talking to him yourself. “for example, you realized just how much you liked killing.”

if johnny could’ve raised his hands, he would’ve. “your words, not mine.”

you leaned over the table, unrelenting. “tell me about it, johnny. how did it feel when you strangled her with your bare hands? what was it like?”

johnny chuckled. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you nodded.

johnny leaned in too, getting closer to you, and whispered in your ear, “i squeezed every last breath out of her, one by one, until there was nothing left for her brain and she went slack in my arms. and when i was done, i felt elated. i felt free. it woke up this dormant sensation inside of me that i swore to never repress again, because it made me feel alive.”

your lungs started to feel shallower, like no breath could reach the bottom, and you sensed your heart come to a halt for a minute. johnny pulled back, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was proud of himself.

“detective, did i startle you?” johnny asked, tilting his head ever so slightly.

your face hardened. “why would you ever think that?”

“you’re not as good at feigning indifference as you think you are, detective. full offense,” he mimicked, mocking.

he’s just a fragile man that kills women to make him feel better about himself, because he needs to be in control. don’t give him power over you. that’s what he wants, you said to yourself, shutting any and all other thoughts. “so, you killed martina, nobody could connect her disappearance to you, and by the time they discovered her body you were already studying for college two states over.”

johnny ignored you, at least for a little. he was taking a liking to making you feel uneasy around him. “has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked out of nowhere.

“you aren’t my type. i don’t fool around with serial killers,” you replied sharply.

johnny didn’t seem to be offended, but you didn’t expect him to. “really now? it feels like we’re on a date right now. after all, we are getting to know each other.”

you asked, “have you always had such a distorted perception of normal human interaction?”

johnny shot with no hesitation, “have you always had such a sharp mouth?”

you pulled yourself together. the only way you would get anywhere with this guy was by establishing that you were the one in control. “okay, enough. this is my interview, suh. you answer my questions, not vice versa.”

“that’s not any fair,” johnny told you, that unnerving smile still on his lips. “i don’t have to tell you anything, you know. and without me, you lose the only key to those answers you want so badly.”

“you shutting up doesn’t make much of a difference, considering you’re already dodging my questions,” you replied.

“let’s play a game,” johnny suggested.

you weren’t in the mood for any games, but that was johnny’s method of operation. “i don’t like games.”

“you’ll like this one,” johnny insisted, laughing. “twenty questions.”

your shoulders dropped. “am i supposed to be guessing something?”

johnny shook his head, something sinister about him. “no, it’s much easier than that. we take turns asking each other questions until i’ve answered ten and you’ve unanswered ten.”

you stared into his eyes, willing yourself not to break contact. he was just as relentless, silently cocking a brow at you, as if to challenge. and you weren’t an idiot. that’s exactly what it was. you asserted, “i go first, you can only ask me yes or no questions, and if i don’t like your final answer i get to press you for another.”

johnny slightly lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “yes, ma’am.”

“okay,” you started. “what made you move from illinois to michigan?”

“i was kicked out of the house. didn’t have anywhere else to go. but i had a buddy here whose family took me in,” johnny answered frankly.

you pondered those words, wondering if his aforementioned buddy knew about his secret indulgences. or if he asked why johnny’s parents kicked him out of their home. it would’ve been the question scratching at your mind, itching to be answered.

johnny’s lips parted. “what kind of perfume are you wearing - honey lavender?”

“yes,” you said, focusing your attention on anything but the possibilities of how he could’ve known that. he’d been with so many people to the point where he just knew. “why did you get kicked out of the house?”

“my dad always thought there was something different about me, ever since i was a child. he was a nasty piece of work. he found my journal, read a couple of things i wrote, and decided there was no hope for me in the house,” johnny ranted.

that piqued your curiosity. “what did you write about?”

“wait your turn,” johnny sang. “your hair smells just as lovely as the rest of you. do you match scents all the time?”

you were mildly uncomfortable, but given the type of dude he was, you stifled it. “yes. you don’t have to be such a pervert all the time, you know?”

again, johnny rolled his shoulders, chirping, “you call it perverse. i call it amusing.”

you almost cursed under your breath when you realize you’d asked him a question. “wait, i didn’t mean to ask…”

johnny cut you off, “that’s too bad. it’s my turn again. do you like necklaces?”

“not ones made out of fingers,” you retorted. it was meant to be a joke to hide how unsettled you were, hyper aware of the necklace dangling around your neck. you could feel invisible pressure on your throat.

johnny snickered. “i’ll admit that was funny.”

you pressed, “what did you write about in the journal?”

“my dreams,” he admitted vaguely, though in reality, he wrote endlessly about his corrupt fantasies of abusing women. some pages were about his stepsister, and there was a few about what he’d done to martina, though not explicitly. “you have the most beautiful eyes. they’re the perfect shade.”

you were certain he had told many other girls those same words and were not flattered in the slightest. the glare you were giving him was ferocious. “i’m not sure if there’s a question in there somewhere.”

“do you think your eyes are pretty?”

“i haven’t really thought about it,” you told him, quick to change the topic. you’d encountered your fair share of stranglers and it was no secret why he was so interested in your eyes. “was your relationship with your father estranged?”

“nothing was enough for that man. i had the top grades in my class and the highest gpa, and he took my door off its hinges and seized my privacy,” johnny told you, words harsh, but his tone plain. “he was obsessed with being the perfect family, something that was ruined the second my mother destroyed everything, and rather than embrace me, he turned me away.”

your eyes flickered. there was something about his language that stood out to you. courtesy of the research you’d done on him beforehand, you were aware that his father was divorced then remarried his stepmother, who already had a daughter johnny’s age. but rather than describe his parent’s separation as a divorce, he said his mother destroyed everything.

what a hostile view towards women, you mused, repulsed. but given the nature of his crimes, it adds up. and it might’ve been the origin of his hatred.

his family was twisted. you couldn’t fathom how his father, aware of just how unwell his son was, clocked his abusive fantasies towards women, and instead of getting him the help he needed, he left him to his own devices to slaughter them as he pleased.

you blinked when johnny leaned, craning his face towards yours, and snapped out of your reverie when you jolted back.

“there you are,” johnny said, chuckling at your surprise. it was all over your face. “i’ve been talking to myself all this time. you must’ve been thinking about me.”

“no, not really. i was wondering if i forgot to feed my dog last night.” it was an obvious lie, but you would never encourage this guy to feel more important than he was.

amusement gleamed in johnny’s eyes. he was having a wonderful time, truth be told. had you not been so pretty, he would’ve clamped up like a crab, but you were so pleasing to the eye that he didn’t mind confessing a couple of truths. “a dog. that’s interesting. i myself have always wanted a pet - a snake. the constricting kind are my favorite.”

“you don’t say,” you droned, voice dripping with crisp irony.

your sarcasm was chucklesome to johnny, but his words were the truth. he remembered, all those years ago, asking his father for a pet snake. and when he refused, johnny, in turn, killed the family dog. he added, “they don’t just suffocate their prey. they coil around them, almost like a straitjacket, and cut off its blood supply.”

you replied, “yeah, but animals hunt to survive. you hunted because you had nothing better to do with your life.”

“in my humble opinion, we’re all animals of nature, and creatures of sin,” johnny told you in a whisper, as if he were telling you a secret of some kind. “anyways, it’s my turn now.”

you resisted a disgruntled exhale.

like his questions couldn’t get any more absurd and strangely perverse, johnny asked, “when you shower, what do you use - a washcloth or a loofah?”

“that’s not a yes or no question,” you replied with total disinterest.

“it’s hardly any less simple.”

“a washcloth,” you replied, though only because you needed to ask him your questions and resisting an answer would only waste valuable time. “why did you wait so long before killing sabrina lee?”

johnny smiled at the mention of his son’s mother, but the grin on his lips was distinguishable from the others. like he didn’t even realize he was smiling. “she was special. i loved her.”

“no, you didn’t. you don’t hurt people that you love.”

“maybe that’s true for you, but you’ve called me everything but a child of god and it’s clear you don’t think you and i are alike,” johnny said. “i don’t miss her, though, because she left a better print on this world. a world that was never made for her in the first place.”

a better print on this world. your brows furrowed, until you remembered the child they shared together. “you know what i think? i think whatever you felt for your son’s mother was the closest thing to love you’ll ever be able to pull from your ugly black heart.”

“you’re very strongly opinionated,” johnny responded, ever so unbothered. maybe some decades ago, it would’ve irked him to the point of breaking, but he was much more in charge of his impulses now.

you lifted your shoulders, gazing at him with the most discerning of eyes. all he could think about was how nice it would’ve been to seize you by the throat and watch the light dull from them.

to your surprise, johnny’s next question was not as a deviant as you assumed it would be, asking, “what made you decide you wanted to become a detective?”

“because of the people i used to know that aren’t around to tell you why,” you answered distantly, before pressing, “how was sabrina different, johnny?”

johnny perched over the table again, an uncomfortable distance close to you, made worse by his whispers. “because unlike the others, she didn’t beg me to stop - she begged me to finish. for it to be over. and when i wouldn’t, she begged me to kill her.”

the mental picture you got was cruel. your heart hurt for these women that had no idea what hit them until it was too late.

“i put these women out of their misery,” johnny continued.

you spat in a heartbeat, “the misery that you forced them to endure.”

johnny winced. “no, these women were miserable long before they met me. they were just ignorant of it. impressionability is a weakness.”

“either you have one hell of a god complex or you are working overtime to justify your sick actions.”

johnny merely shrugged, vicious and ominous and everything in between. there was something so dark about his spirit. you could feel it just from sitting within a couple of feet of him.

johnny’s memories were triggered. he was reminiscing about the times he shared with his son’s mother, how perfect she was. there were no other women like her. she was his favorite victim, someone he took his sweet time with, while the others were disposed of in a few months time.

midnight loomed, riding on the tail of dusk. johnny was counting down the minutes until the clock struck twelve, a self-imposed rule to gauge his willpower. the second the hour came, he bolted from the crackling sound of the cabin’s fireplace to a bedroom, anticipation like a stimulant.

the wooden floorboards creaked the closer johnny crept to the door. save for himself and the woman chained to the bedpost, the cabin was void of life. it belonged to the parents of a close friend who ensured it was vacant whenever johnny needed a place to indulge his twisted fantasies.

which was basically all of the time.

he meandered inside with a crisp bottle of water in hand, droplets condensing at its sides. sabrina laid right where he left her, just as broken, dreading her next breath. tape adhered to the flesh over her mouth, muffling her whimpers. there was nobody around for miles, the cabin was totally isolated, but it was a safety measure.

the chains were used likewise. when johnny was not there, the restraints kept her prisoner. johnny, reckless as he could be back then, was many things and stupid was not one of them. the chains stretched long enough to reach the bathroom but no further and he had his loyal friend help him test it after each victim.

“can you go further?” johnny called out.

jaehyun’s lower limbs were shackled, ceasing his footsteps just shy of the hallway as he came to a total standstill. “not if i want my legs to follow me,” he’d retorted.

johnny had snickered. “good.”

had johnny been there, though, he would take the chains off. none of this was fair, even johnny didn’t believe that, but not giving them the chance to fight was too unfair. he needed not to chain them when he had the gift of his big, burly arms.

johnny waltzed over with a lighthearted and carefree gait, as if this was just another wednesday afternoon to him. and in some sick, despicable way, that wasn’t too far from the truth. he ripped the tape from sabrina’s lips, watching her face tense with pain.

“johnny,” sabrina rasped, voice croaking. he could tell from her flushed face and misty eyes that she’d been crying. “i’m thirsty.”

johnny cocked a brow, glancing to his hand. he had an irritating knack for playing dumb. it used to be endearing. now, with everything she knew to be true torn from her bare hands, sabrina didn’t know what to think. “what - you want this?”

sabrina nodded.

“yeah?” he popped off the top, throwing back a few gulps just before releasing a satisfied, “ah.”

sabrina’s lips trembled. “please.”

had she been anybody else, johnny probably would’ve dangled the water in her face just to snatch it away, but there was something about sabrina that made him gravitate towards her. in a rare moment of benevolence, johnny handed her the water, letting her drink.

she didn’t drink in short sips, but in giant gulps as if she’d known for some time that they’d be her last. when her thirst was satiated, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, handing the bottle back, and whispered, “thank you.”

johnny set the drink aside before returning to her, unshackling her limbs. sabrina’s breath quickened the moment the chains clacked harshly against the floor and nearly stilled when he brought his hand to her flushed face, tracing her chapped lips with a calloused thumb.

his thoughts rushed with unbridled exhilaration, ablaze with suspense, but he slowed for a moment to marvel at her loveliness. johnny’s hand touched her hair, touch tender in ways it would never be again, because he would never again know a woman as great as her.

he brought his lips to her ear, nibbling at the shell before asking, “do you know what i want you to do?”

sabrina bobbed her head, starting to halfheartedly peel off her clothes without needing to be told. with so many days held prisoner in this hell hole, it became routine. like she’d already resigned herself to her fate and knew johnny getting his way was inevitable. he always got what he wanted.

to be frank, it came out of nowhere. she never saw this twisted side of him coming. all she knew was that she became suspicious of his lack of family presence and it was too late when she saw him for the monster that he was, and then she woke here.

it had to have been months ago, although sabrina couldn’t have been sure how many. everyday started to bleed into the static hopelessness of another. sometimes johnny wouldn’t show for days, leaving her to live antsily, dreading his unavoidable return. other times, he would spend a day or two in the cabin, fucking her into kingdom come.

as if she couldn’t be any more faultless. johnny smirked. “smart girl,” he purred. he would never deny her wit, given that she’d caught onto him, but her lack of strength was her only vice.

johnny restlessly tossed his own shirt over his naked shoulder and came to step out of his boxers. there was mischief on his plush lips. he knew something sabrina only knew from the unkind churn of her gut.

the end was more than near. it loomed over her, relentless and remorseless, and all she could like it to was dark and leaden clouds in a somber sky. even then, there was almost nothing she wouldn’t give to see the world again, but she’d long kissed that hope goodbye.

“down,” johnny told her, tone dark and stern.

she pliantly did as told, bare back meeting the mattress. johnny crept over her, hard cock twitching at the sight of her so meek. typically, he liked when they put up a fight, but sabrina knew better.

johnny could tell she was fighting back tears, willing herself not to cry with a stabilized breath, but her endeavors were in vain the second he started to force his way inside her. they escaped her eyes and dampened her cheeks, unable to overlook the agony of the stretch.

“shh, baby,” johnny crooned in her ear, the weight of his body bearing down onto hers. “what’s the matter? you used to beg me to fuck you.”

sabrina shook her head, silently pleading for a mercy she knew deep down that johnny wasn’t capable of. “please make it quick.”

johnny’s tone was almost sweet. “but baby, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, remember?”

johnny knew that his words weren’t reassuring and he didn’t intend for them to be. there was a reason why he loved how she tried to hold herself together. he got to push her limits, find her breaking point. in the end, she would get her wish, and in a way, johnny thought that that was love.

her walls were just as tight and vice-like as they’d been all those times he’d taken her before. if johnny got close enough to her, let his hands wander and tease as they never not had done, sabrina would still involuntarily gush around his cock. like her body knew she was forever a slave to his touch.

just looking at her face as she wept sent shock waves of pleasure rippling through his dick and chest. sabrina didn’t cry in noisy, gasping sobs. her tears dripped from her thick lashes quietly, mouth parting in the most silent of whimpers.

and she orgasmed the same way, johnny remembered. back when things were normal between them, when she begged for him to fuck her, as he called it, her release was marked by a volatile shudder, but a silent cry of ecstasy.

johnny pushed sabrina’s lips into an upward curling with his thumb and index finger. “smile for the camera, sabrina,” he whispered.

sabrina’s brows furrowed, painfully oblivious to the camera tracking her every emote. johnny couldn’t not document his deeds. there was something about being able to play them over, immersing himself back in that moment over and over, even when the life itself could not be so easily brought back.

but for johnny, they could be. when he rewatched these videos again and again, it was like he could feel their pulses thump in their neck, resuscitating.

johnny’s hands were everywhere, fingertips traipsing towards sabrina’s neck where marks lingered from all the times he’d strangled her, only to slacken his grip when she was just shy of passing out. the bruises were different colors, indicative of different healing stages. sabrina tensed, startled, and wondered when it would all be over.

“johnny.” sabrina was overcome with defeat. her voice cracked as she asked, “johnny, please just cum.”

johnny’s face tensed with pleasure. “fuck, babe, when you say it like that…”

he stood at the brink of climax, threatening to teeter over, and there was only one thing that could knock him over quicker than anything else. it wouldn’t be anything she said, anything she did, but only a weakness johnny had the power to wield against himself.

“you want me to finish?”

sabrina nodded.

johnny chuckled darkly. “then, in that case, it’s time for you to get your wish, baby.”

he watched her shoulders slump, releasing all hope of ever knowing anything different again and accepting that this was where things ended. thinking about the feeling he remembered none too distantly, one that almost seemed to keep his blood pumping through him, in a way, johnny’s fingers itched.

johnny lifted his hands, bringing them to sabrina’s face, but before he could touch her, she exclaimed, “wait, johnny!”

his brow cocked.

sabrina’s lips trembled. “can you tell me what today is? please?”

“wednesday,” johnny replied, holding his hands around her neck, but keeping his grip slack. for now.

“wednesday,” sabrina said, pulling her lips into the faintest of smiles as tears blurred her vision. “will you tell haechan that i hope he has an amazing thursday?”

“that can be arranged,” johnny said, grinning.

sabrina nodded, setting her mind at ease. she’d already made peace with this day some months ago. she never knew when it come, but she saw it as something bound to happen. “thank you,” she whispered.

those were her last words. because when johnny tightened his grip at her throat, almost like tightening a noose, he couldn’t bring himself to stop in spite of the agonized gleam in her stare. and then her stare was empty, and johnny had already emptied his load inside of her.

to describe the sensation he got from killing in a way that captured its essence would be impossible. it was more than feeling the life leave her. it was more than watching her eyes become soulless. it was a release, a way of relinquishing all of the vacantness he harbored, and knowing that his heart was still there.

it would always return, sometimes as soon as the next day, but for a minute, johnny was whole and no drug could replicate that kind of contentedness.

johnny did tell haechan what sabrina said. he wasn’t all too sure why, maybe it was because she was his mother and haechan was her son that they’d created together, and johnny would never have it any other way. for her to be the one to give him a child, he couldn’t imagine any other woman in her place.

it was almost unfortunate that she had to go so soon. even johnny thought that her demise was premature. had she not grown so suspicious of him, johnny could imagine making her his wife, maybe even spending the rest of his life with her.

their marriage wouldn’t have been without his secret dark life, but sabrina wouldn’t’ve been a victim. alas, loose ends needed to be tied. johnny couldn’t trust that she would’ve kept quiet, and even then, she was in a much more fitting place for an angel like herself.

there was much of this memory that would be abridged. never would johnny reveal anything about the cabin or the dear friend that helped him commit his indulgences, or even the existence of the tapes. if they found those videos, that was proof of murder with a grand total of 106 women.

the air around you was heavy and the words you’d just been fed weren’t easily take in. “what you’re just told me is really sad.”

but johnny didn’t look sad. whether or not he ever truly cared for sabrina would perpetually be a mystery. “maybe,” he started. “but tell me that you wouldn’t hurt the person you loved most if it was what was best for them.”

“i did. but what i had to do is different from what you were.”

johnny’s interest was piqued. “how come?”

“it was my responsibility to decide whether or not to take my sister off of the ventilator. there was no hope for her,” you confessed, though brushed over it quickly. “what happened to your ex-wife?”

“not that interesting of a story,” johnny said. “she wasn’t sabrina, i got tired of her, here we are.”

“and yet she wasn’t a one-off like martina mortes.”

“had she been a one-off, my body count would be one number higher. that was a favor,” johnny told you, grinning as if you actually had something to be grateful for.

you didn’t waste a second to accuse, “because you need to keep your victims to extract all the relief that you can from them, right?”

“i’m afraid it’s not your turn to ask questions,” johnny replied tauntingly. “what was your sister like - did she have long hair? what color were her eyes? how long were her lashes?”

sick son of a bitch, bellowed the voice in your head, though you willed yourself to remain composed. it was plain on his face that johnny didn’t want an answer - he wanted a reaction. and as furious as that made you, you couldn’t let him provoke you. “that’s none of your business,” you said, but there was a loophole. “but she was beloved.”

that qualified as an answer. johnny glanced at you in a way that made you feel see-through, as if he knew that you were threatening to come apart at the seams and didn’t buy your nonchalance for a minute.

sated, he went on to feed you bullshit about his ex-wife’s death, though there were only four people who knew what truly happened to her and one of them was dead.

johnny remembered that day like it happened yesterday. it was a thursday evening when he’d come home from work. christine had picked haechan up from school hours ago and johnny wholly expected to come home to her in the kitchen.

it was dark outside. the moon was a mere sliver and the stars were duller than they typically were, almost like they had witnessed something that drained their spirits. johnny remembered struggling to identify his house key, trying each of them until the door clicked open.

“i’m home,” johnny’s voice thundered as he turned to lock the door.

there were quick footsteps from upstairs. haechan, johnny thought, more than familiarized with the sound. but there was none of christine’s usual voice.

“dad, i’m hungry,” came haechan’s voice from the stairs, coming down them one by one.

that in itself should’ve been suspicious, but instead, all johnny could think about was how sabrina would’ve already fed her son. “hasn’t christine made dinner by now?” johnny asked, irritated.

haechan shook his head, though johnny couldn’t see. he was hanging his coat on the rack, like he always did after he locked the door. “she can’t right now.”

“why not?”

“because i think she’s dead,” haechan replied, nonchalant as ever.

that was the very second that johnny turned around and noticed that haechan was stained with blood. it was all over his face and the spots would probably never come out of his clothes, not that they would be kept.

for half a minute, johnny was genuinely stunned.

haechan didn’t say what happened, and there was no need to. “the blood won’t come off,” was all he said, showing his father the pair of hands that he’d washed with vigor.

johnny heaved a breath. he should’ve seen this coming. haechan took after his father and he never liked christine. to say the least, johnny couldn’t blame him. “where is she?”

“where they all go,” haechan replied, as if it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to him.

johnny headed for the basement with quick footsteps, haechan following behind. if somebody were to come down there, they wouldn’t suspect a thing. not only was it decorated to look like one, but it was used as a man cave. behind a soundproof wall, though, was a dungeon for his prisoners.

in this case, there was a trail of blood leading to the wall, proof that haechan had somehow brought christine there after he hurt her. johnny entered the cell and saw her there behind the bars, coming to her side to check her pulse.

pressing his thumb to her wrist and neck, johnny sensed a pulse, though it was weakening. “she’s not dead,” he said, wresting his phone out of his pocket.

haechan didn’t look so relieved, but he didn’t voice his dissatisfaction. “are you mad?”

johnny glanced down at christine. haechan had used a kitchen knife, attacking her in the heat of the moment. she was butchered and blood-splattered, on the verge of slaughter, and yet johnny couldn’t find it in him to offer any compassion. “that you hurt her? no. that you made a mess? a little.”

now that was a relief. to haechan, at least back then, his dad was the coolest guy that he knew.

there was quite the scene in front of him and johnny didn’t have a thing for blood. he shook his head in reproach, chastising, “i’m going to teach you the right way to get rid of a woman when you’re sick of her.”

that piqued haechan’s curiosity.

johnny was quick to dial jaehyun’s number. he had medical experience and that was what he needed right now. when the call connected, he said, “i’m in calling in a favor.”

jaehyun patched her up again. at least for a few months, johnny still needed her breathing. they scrubbed the floors free of blood, burned haechan’s bloodied clothes, and it was as if nothing ever happened.

what johnny had told you was only a fraction of the truth, but still enough to make you want to grimace. it bemused you how he got away with murdering his ex-wife and nobody thought to suspect her husband with a track record of disappearing partners.

“you want to know what’s really amazing?” you started, though it was more like disgusting. “how three of the women you’ve killed were your significant others, and somehow, you’ve only now been incriminated.”

johnny looked proud of himself. had it not been for haechan, he probably would’ve never been caught. “sabrina never told anyone that we dated, or that she had a baby by me. her parents wanted her to focus on her education. if they knew she’d gotten pregnant, she would’ve been the black sheep.”

“and you took advantage of that,” you hissed.

“so what if i did?” johnny asked, careless. “not to mention that dozens of teenage girls in chicago were going missing at the time. they added martina to that number and called it a day. is that sad? maybe. but that’s how it works.”

“and as for your co-worker?” you asked sharply. the boldness of his crimes astounded you. “her husband grieves her. were you having an affair?”

the thought of her made johnny chuckle. oh, were we, he reminisced. it was a misfortune that he didn’t get the chance to have his way with her the way that he wanted. and for that reason, he couldn’t regale you in a truthful account of her death.

what happened that day, the day his co-worker died, challenged his fate and was the reason that he only now knew the imprisonment he thrusted upon others.

johnny knew when he spotted her that he would revel in her vulnerability. married, but she hardly wore her ring. her kind was the most naive - the kind that believed ecstasy was without costly sin. one way or another, she had to reap what she sowed.

he worked his way inside her pants, but it was hardly any work; she was on a desperate pursuit for pleasure and when johnny promised it to her, offering content on a silver platter, she thought less with her brain and more with the throbbing between her legs.

for months, johnny slept with her, which was far from typical. if she were anybody else, johnny would have pursued her for a couple of weeks time, then banished her to the underground prison. though considering he already had a victim down there at the time, he had some time to spare.

it was no secret that she had grown fond of johnny in ways she hadn’t been of her husband in a very long time, and though johnny found her to be special, in a way, he could not reciprocate her feelings. when johnny saw her, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to use her without a lick of remorse, and squeeze those panting breaths out of her.

it was a shame that he never got the opportunity. johnny already tested the bounds of his self-restraint when it came to her, each of their encounters consensual with her oblivious to his deepest, darkest desires. sometimes, his fingers would wander to her neck, but even that was wanted.

what was not wanted was the tyranny over her body that preceded her death. it bemused johnny to learn that his son, along with two of his friends that he thought of like brothers and johnny thought of like sons, ravaged her to the brink of being unrecognizable.

had johnny held control over the situation, he wouldn’t have cared what happened to her and would have even permitted them to go to town. but what happened was somehow darker. when he got a call from the professor late that day, hearing her broken sobs over the phone, he told her to meet him at his house.

that was his first mistake.

it wasn’t that she didn’t come. she made it there, hopeful to confide in johnny about the nightmare that tore her apart, but it was haechan that opened the front door. and when she entered, there was no hope out of her coming out breathing.

haechan had been a downward spiral ever since a month ago when he stumbled upon the tape of his mother. ever since he was a boy, haechan watched every tape he could find of his father’s dark life, even sharing them with his friends as if they were movies and not snuff.

but this was not like those. this was his mother. and watching her suffer, listening to her final request before her untimely death, broke haechan in ways which he would never recover.

haechan had known since he was little that his mother was dead and his father was to blame, but his understanding of what happened to her was skewed. if he’d known eighteen years ago what he knew today, when johnny had his own son aid him in his mother’s demise, none of it would have ever happened.

to say nothing of the fact that what johnny had haechan do was only a mere fraction of his mother’s suffering. haechan would fetch things from the other side of the cabin he vaguely remembered visiting every now and then for three months. when he was not there, which was often, he would lie to his neighbors about her whereabouts.

even though when she died he was only a kid being taken advantage of, haechan hated himself for letting it happen right under his nose. he wished he would’ve told his neighbors the truth. maybe if he had, his mother would still be alive and kicking, and he would know the only woman he ever cared for.

that was why he went after his professor that he knew his father had also been eyeing closely and having an affair with. her fate was obvious. johnny would entertain her for a while, somehow charm and woo his way into her pants like he did every other woman, kidnap her and keep her downstairs for three months, then kill her and identify the next victim.

but johnny’s liking of her was also hopelessly discernable. she was living too long. and that was a telltale sign that johnny took a special interest in his son’s professor, something that haechan feared would rival the affection (if it existed) for his mother.

haechan was not keen on having his mother replaced. the last time it happened, he snapped and maimed his stepmother. and he was not afraid of doing so again.

when haechan exacted revenge, it felt like nothing he had ever done before. vengeance tasted like heaven. his professor tasted elysian. and he had never felt so good about himself, but then the high wore off, comparable to the fading release johnny got after strangling his victims, and familiar pain seared through him once further.

vindictiveness was a lethal venom, festering quickly upon injection. after haechan got what he wanted, there was a greed to replicate that feeling, in spite of the fact that nothing would compare to that first blow. in his own way, unlike his father’s but similar nonetheless, he was pivoting towards release.

haechan was on the brink of something like psychosis when he heard those knocks on his front door. and when he peered outside, spotting the professor, his recklessness got the better of him.

she was dead before she even stepped inside the house. haechan yanked her inside, brought her downstairs, and forced himself onto her for a second time that day. when she wept for johnny, wishing he would come home, haechan almost pitied her naïveté.

if haechan hadn’t killed her, wrapping his hands around her throat the way that he knew his father had been yearning to, johnny would have.

the look on his professor’s face was pitiful. “sorry,” haechan said, though he clasped his hands around her throat harder. “but i have to make a statement.”

it was not particularly a difficult thing to do, at least not to stomach, but killing her was merely just a means to an end. he didn’t get off to it like his father would’ve. haechan’s interest lay in inflicting psychological damage, but he did it because he knew how much it pleasured johnny to squeeze the life out of his victims.

and if haechan couldn’t have what he wanted, then as long as he lived, neither would his dad for tearing it away.

johnny came home moments too late. haechan left his professor in the cellar for his father to find, eyes wide and face pale.

johnny glanced around. he saw her car parked outside, but no sign of her. when haechan came from his bedroom on the upper floor, a creeping feeling of deja vu flooded johnny’s chest, but he asked, “where is she?”

haechan’s face was expressionless. “she’s dead,” he replied, confident. “i mean it this time.”

johnny shook his head. “you killed her?”

“wasn’t it you that said you were going to teach me the proper way to dispose of a woman when i’m sick of her?” haechan asked, approaching his father as he crept down the stairs.

though johnny wasn’t pleased, he willed himself to calm down. “did you strangle her?”

“yes.”

johnny figured, from the lack of blood staining his house this time around. “will you tell me about it?”

that caught haechan off-guard. he expected his father to be angry, to let loose. he had to have been dreaming of choking her since the day he laid eyes on her. “you sick fuck,” haechan sneered.

johnny snickered, unbothered. that’s rich. “who do you think you got it from?”

obviously, from the face haechan was making, he didn’t like that. his nonchalant attitude dissipated. “i’m not like you!”

“keep telling yourself that. maybe one day you’ll delude yourself into believing it,” johnny replied, hanging his coat on the rack in spite of knowing he would be leaving again soon.

“i’m not like you - i mean that.”

johnny, miffed, rolled his eyes and said, “come on, son. you think i don’t know you and your friends have been watching my tapes for the past decade and then some like they’re cartoons?”

“but not mom’s,” haechan spat, loathing fizzing in his stare.

johnny froze, then spun around. “is that what this is all about?”

haechan nodded, pleased his father was finally getting the picture. “i found it in your study. you hid it more carefully than the others, because she was special or you didn’t want me to find it, i don’t know.”

johnny heaved a breath. “you were never supposed to see that.”

“but i did,” haechan replied. “and i’ve suffered every day for the past month because of that.”

johnny shot without hesitation, “a suffering you brought upon yourself. nobody asked you to go snooping around in my things.”

haechan’s lips were twisted into the meanest snarl johnny had ever seen. emotion wrecked through him in its totality. “is that what’s important to you? i shouldn’t be surprised. you couldn’t even spare your own son’s mother from your heartlessness.”

johnny massaged his temple, summoning all of his willpower. “please,” he groaned, sensing an incoming headache. “women are weak, cheating whores. just look at your professor. maybe your mother wasn’t, but she was a liability.”

if that was supposed to console haechan, it had the complete opposite effect. “are you saying she deserved it?”

“i’m saying that you’ve always been too soft,” johnny said, not bothering to sugarcoat his chastising. “just like your mother. even when you were a child. that’s why i had you help me, i hoped you would harden up a little.”

haechan scoffed. “unbelievable.”

“your mother went quietly. she didn’t even fight it, haechan. so, why are you?”

“because of that,” haechan told him, vitriol in his voice. “she didn’t ask you to stop one time. she just asked you to get it over with.”

johnny tipped his head back. “ah, yes. she really was perfect, wasn’t she?”

that was all it took to kindle an unforgiving rage within haechan and in a moment of fury, flickering through him in a flash, haechan lifted his hand to smack his father.

johnny caught his wrist, as if this weren’t the first time this had happened and it was wholeheartedly expected. his voice lowered to a mere hiss, “i’ve never laid a hand on you. ever in your life. don’t make today be the day i start.”

haechan glared, but wrested his way out of his father’s grip and backed away.

johnny smoothed down his shirt and headed for the kitchen, knowing haechan would follow. this conversation was far from over. “now, if you excuse me, i have to clean up your mess,” he said, pulling a burner phone out of a drawer. “if you don’t mind.”

“i can clean up my own mess,” haechan replied, scowling.

setting the phone on the counter, johnny reached for a glass. “no, you can’t. not without digging your own grave. unless you want to go to prison, pack your shit, ask one of your buddies if you can stay with them for a few days, and take the tapes with you. hide them.”

haechan made a face. “what are you talking about?”

johnny sighed. “we can’t get away with this one, son. her car’s parked outside. there’s too many loose ends.”

“we can get rid of the car. you don’t have to go to jail!” haechan shouted.

“it’s either you or me. frankly, i’m doing you a favor. you wouldn’t last two seconds behind bars,” johnny hissed. he grabbed another glass, sliding it across the counter, then said, “now, wine? you know, to celebrate your old man going away? i believe that’s what you want.”

haechan shook his head. never in his life had he been so conflicted. his father that he’d been so bent on despising until the day he died was voluntarily confessing to a crime he didn’t commit, just so that his son wouldn’t have to suffer in prison.

“why are you doing this?” haechan asked, bristling with emotion.

johnny sighed. “because i love you, son. even if you don’t think so. and because your mother would be turning in her grave if she knew you were in prison.”

haechan blew out a breath. then, after a moment of reluctance, he grabbed the glass on the counter and reached for the wine bottle.

johnny snickered. “atta boy.”

“i wonder how your son reacted when he learned you were going to prison for murder,” you said, pondering. “you live in the same house. i wonder how he didn’t know.”

johnny lied, “he was at a friend’s house when i killed her. doesn’t like that it was his favorite professor.”

you nodded along, buying his lies. “that is a lot to take in. i mean, imagine your dad was having an affair with your favorite science professor. then, he kills her, like how he killed your mom.”

johnny shrugged his shoulders. “have you never heard the phrase ‘the heart wants what it wants?’”

“i have,” you replied. “and i guess your heart wanted to stop the function of others.”

johnny laughed at his own expense. “oh, please. you give me too much credit. you shouldn’t make me out to be more romantic than i am.”

you shook your head in disappointment. “you make these women want you, and then you undo everything. that has to be part of the amusement to you.”

“it gets a chuckle or two out of me.”

your lips were tempted to curl into a frown for the umpteenth time that day alone. “why?”

johnny leaned up in his chair, exclaiming, “because it’s fun!”

you were going to say something, but he didn’t give you the chance.

johnny continued, “everyday, as adults, we do the same job for hours and come home. people want excitement in their lives. women get exhausted of coming home to their husbands or nobody at all.”

your stare was blank. “and your point is?”

“i didn’t just make those women want me, baby. i made them need me,” johnny told you smugly. “i brought a spark to their lives, and i took it away just as fast. and i do it… because i can.”

“because you could,” you corrected, confident he would never be free of this place for as long as he lived. “you’re going to be in here a very, very long time.”

johnny grinned. “i wouldn’t be so sure.”

you cocked your brow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” johnny teased. you hated the smugness in his tone. like he knew something that you didn’t.

the door opened, and the guard from earlier returned. “i hate to interrupt, but it’s time for the count,” he said, coming behind johnny to undo his cuffs.

it all happened in a blink. johnny’s weight was pressed flush against yours, roughly thrusting you into the table. your body screamed, agony spreading through your side, but your gun was in a lockbox outside the room.

johnny knew from your conversations alone that you weren’t the type to go quietly. your first instinct was to fight back. naturally, you struggled against his hold, refusing to bend to his will even as panic shot through your chest. your whole body was on guard, aiming for survival.

but to your misfortune, your might was no match for johnny’s. you glanced to the guard for assistance, but when he only stood there as if he was waiting for it to end, the most unsettling feeling of realization washed over you.

“don’t fight him,” the guard said, arms crossed. “you won’t win.”

johnny snickered when he noticed your eyes widen in shock. you hadn’t seen that coming. though you tried to resist, it was over once his slender fingers came to your throat, and you genuinely feared for your life.

you didn’t realize how good you had it just being able to breathe until you couldn’t anymore. your breaths wouldn’t come. it felt as if your bones were being crushed. your whole body was on fight mode, but it was like johnny had the reins, shutting down your senses one by one.

“you put up a good fight, detective,” johnny whispered darkly in your ear, admiring your struggle.

your lips parted, but you couldn’t speak no matter how hard you tried. your self-preservation instincts were no match against him. all you could do was meet johnny’s stare. the pressure on your neck was too much to handle, and in seconds, you were out.

“lights out,” johnny said. he released your throat, having no intention of killing you and leading you for dead, but knowing that you would likely regain consciousness in a matter of seconds, he grabbed you by the hair, smashing your head flat against the table to subdue you.

jaehyun winced, but he did nothing to step in. “poor girl,” he mumbled under his breath, pitying you. “had enough?”

“for now,” johnny replied. “let’s go.”

jaehyun gave johnny a uniform to wear so that he would blend in amongst the uniforms like jaehyun had and when he was ready, the two of them fled before they could be deterred.

when they had successfully gotten away, jaehyun asked with his hand on a steering wheel, “you know that i don’t agree with this, right?”

johnny snickered. it had absolutely been said. “you haven’t agreed with my lifestyle for the past twenty-five years, yet you still help me. why?”

jaehyun frowned. sometimes, he asked himself the same question, but deep down inside, he knew the answer. “because we may not share blood, but we’re brothers,” jaehyun replied. “and for my brother, i’ll do anything you need.”

johnny quipped, “like smuggle me across the border?”

“like smuggle you across the border,” jaehyun said, chuckling. “when we get there, there’s gonna be this dude named mark. he’s gonna help you out. i’ll be in touch.”

johnny nodded. “i can’t thank you enough, man.”

“just lay low and stay out of trouble,” jaehyun said, shaking his head.

johnny grinned with mischief. he was already thinking about all of the beautiful women he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “no promises,” he answered, sighing contentedly.

#johnny suh smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh scenarios #nct smut #tw: noncon #tw: murder #revehae fics

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svngiem-remade · 1 year

Text

CAMPING | lmh

🧸 pairing. lee minho + afab!reader

synopsis. camping is you and your boyfriend's favourite hobby— waking up to beautiful sceneries, exploring untouched nature and enjoying a barbecue dinner! Oh, and also the sex. The sex is great.

🌙 wc. 1.5k | warnings. smut content ahead, established relationship, I almost dare to say smut without plot, but I tried so pls don't be too harsh—

smut warning. implied penetration, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, clothed sex.

No matter if summer or winter, if hot or cold— the second you and your boyfriend realised you had two whole days free of any schedules, you’d hop in your car, which you’d fill to the brim with camping equipment, a bag of clothes for the both of you in the backseat and a bag of food and drinks at your feet, then head to your favorite camping site, which was a good four hours away from your apartment; it was a very exhausting snowy and slippery drive, but the scenery you got to wake up seeing in the morning was definitely worth it.

After paying the entrance fee, Minho parked the car inside the camping site, taking a deep breath and slumping back on the driver’s seat with his eyes closed, finally being able to rest after the long drive. You turned your body to face him and smiled, extending your arm to move a strand of your boyfriend's long hair away from his forehead, which made him look at you, “Wanna help me set up the tent or you wanna go ask the reception to give us some wood for a bonfire?” he asked softly, his face barely visible in the darkness, the cloudy weather outside plus the sun starting to hide behind the tall mountains in front of you casted a shadow over his face, though his brown eyes somehow still managed to sparkle with their usual cheerfulness and malice.

“We both know you’re ten times faster setting the tent up by yourself, Min.” you snickered, “I’ll go ask for the wood and be right back. Don’t miss me too much.” you joked, your palm moving to rest on the handle of the car door, ready to leave the vehicle, when he suddenly grabbed the back of your head, turning it towards him to keep it in place as he hovered over the central console and leaned towards your speechless form with a smirk, his lips brushing over yours.

“Impossible. I already miss you, but don’t worry, you’ll make it up to me later.” he purred, and you felt your cheeks warm up.

***

As you sat on the foldable gray camping sofa you’d brought from home, hugging your knees against your chest with your chin on top of them, you stared up at Minho, who was busy grilling your dinner on the barbecue in front of you with a concentrated pout as he lightly moved his hips left and right to the rhythm of the music playing from your phone, causing a small grin to make its way on your lips.

When he slightly hovered over the grill to pick up a piece of meat to taste if it was ready to be served, his round butt fully grabbed your attention, with it being splayed right in front of your eyes, and you, being a butt lover yourself, couldn't resist the temptation to squeeze it, “Are you butt-dialing me? Because damn, that ass is calling me.” you then pinched it with a giggle as he side-eyed you and munched on the meat, though you could clearly see him biting back an amused smile.

He rolled his eyes and suddenly took a slice of zucchini from the grill, flipping around to hover over your sat figure, shoving the vegetable in your mouth with a mischievous smile— his almond eyes looking into your wide open ones as his hand gently squeezed the side of your thigh, his fingers slowly tracing them up and down, “I’m cold, can I use your thighs as earmuffs?” Minho whispered while his index and thumb took a hold of your chin, slightly raising your head up, “Now that I think about it, my nose is pretty cold too, can I bury it inside your pretty folds to warm it up?” he continued, the hand on your thigh moving to the side to tease your sex, which was covered by a pair of light pants and underwear, given it was almost summer and it was starting to be pretty hot outside at all times of the day.

You bit your lip to hold back a moan when he moved his fingers down your lips, circling your entrance through the layers of clothing, “M—Min…” you whined as you looked up at him with a furrow in your brows, humming happily when he met your pouty lips with his own, him harshly sucking on your bottom lip.

Then, he stopped, “Mh, maybe later, I’m hungry for food now.” he murmured in your mouth, his fingers slapping your drenched cunt before going right back to grilling, as if nothing had just happened— the only difference was the painful-looking bulge protruding through his black knee-length shorts only a few inches away from you.

However, that ‘later’ came much earlier than you’d expected, since around fifteen minutes later he cut dinner short by throwing you inside of your tent in a swift motion, all while grumbling and whining because you’d apparently teased him too much for his liking.

As soon as he zipped the tent up, which he’d set up in an isolated place, already knowing you’d end up fucking like rabbits in no time, Minho tore your leggings on the crotch and moved your flimsy underwear to the side to finger your wet hole, prepping it to take him as your tongues intertwined, your hands fumbling with his shorts and underwear to set free his hard length before pumping him with your fist, “You’re s—so hard, shit—” you moaned and clawed at his bicep.

“Fuck, I need you now.” he mumbled, four fingers deep inside of your cunt, his other hand on the mattress pinned next to your head as his eyes tried to focus on yours in the darkness to see if you were ready, his cock twitching in your hands st your next words—

“Take me then.”

And like countless of other times— moans, whimpers and the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls of your tent in the middle of the forest, for minutes on end, the mattress under you holding your bodies as you both came in each other's arms multiple times, “Be good and open your legs wide for me now, kitten.” he panted as he slowly pulled out of you, a soft whimper exiting your lips at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

You thoughtlessly obeyed him, pinning your elbows down on the air mattress below you and your feet to your sides, a shiver running through your body when you felt your and his cum slowly dribble out of your stuffed hole, your cloudy and watery eyes trying to focus on your kneeling, barely visible, boyfriend in front of you fisting his hard cock, “What are you…” you asked softly, feeling your cheeks heat up rapidly when you could feel his eyes fixed on your sex, glistening under the soft moonlight pouring in the tent..

He licked his dry lips, his fingers sticky from both your releases slowly inching closer to your abused heat, “Oh, don’t mind me— I’m just enjoying the show before I feast on it.” he smirked as he ran his index between your folds, a satisfied hum reverberating in him when you squirmed from overstimulation under his touch.

Without warning, he collected the cum slipping out of you with two fingers and stuffed it back inside, which made you whine and jerk your hips towards his fingers, “Keep all this inside for me, will you, kitten?” he whispered, his pupils widening when they noticed you’d started slowly rolling and fucking yourself on his fingers, “So pathetic.” he groaned lowly, though his cock twitched at the sight.

“AH! Holy Hell—” you swore under your breath when Minho suddenly dipped his head down with a grin and gave your cunt a long, wet lick from bottom to top, swirling his tongue around your puffy clit and sucking on it roughly, “Oh my God— Min— Oh fuck—” you moaned loudly, clasping your thighs around his head when his hot tongue thrust into your heat.

Your head fell back as you started grinding on his face, helped by him when he grabbed the sides of your thighs and slightly lifted your bottom up from the mattress, and though you couldn't see it, you could feel a string of wetness connecting you to the sheets, “s’ fucking hot—” he muffled in between your folds, his dark, lustful eyes looking at how your chest heaved up and down quickly, registering in his mind how your sweeter than honey, but still borderline pornographic, your moans sounded and how you clenched around his long tongue with every thrust.

Then, you came without any warning whatsoever, your slick squirting on his face as he helped you ride out your high with his fingers, his other fingers collecting some of your release dripping down his chin, licking his fingers the moment after as your hazy and watery eyes stayed fixed on him, “Shorter feast than usual, but absolutely delicious nonetheless. I think—” he smirked, lowering his head once again until he was face to face with your cunt again, your eyes rolling back in pleasure when his hot breath hit your abused folds, “I think I’mma go for a second serving now.”

please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!

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taglist: @strayingawayy @shinsosmatcha

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ophelieverse · 2 years

Note

can you just write something fluff with Daemon and pregnant reader?She is Viserys and Aemma youngest daughter and their are naming their first son after her father/Daemon brother(damn Targaryens)

۵A name fit for a king.

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader.

I loved this request,especially after the last episode.There’s gonna be some spoilers (but nothing very important)also incest,so if this makes you uncomfortable don’t read and reader gonna have targaryen features.

Thank you for the request,hope you like it and let me know what you think!💕💕

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The earth awakes slowly,everything around is quiet,the melodious chirping of the birds out of the window glass and the sweet crashing of the waves on the shore were the most beautiful lullaby.

The sun was rising above the horizon,shining with his golden rays all over Dragon Stone who was still enjoying its peaceful slumber.It would be a beautiful day,no clouds in sight,sky bluer as ever and a comforting warmth touching every living creature on the small island.

A beautiful start for an awaited long summer,the one Y/n wished for.After several months of winter it was time for the cold and dark weather to retire and giving its place to the season of eternal sunshine and development.

Delicate golden light glowed on her skin,immaculate and soft,where he was tracing lines with his fingers,almost to pure to be corrupted.Y/n was still asleep,her cheek pressed on the white pillow and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face.

Her husband laid besides her like every morning,the gods have mercy on whoever will try to have his place and stealing away from the thing he begged on his knees for.Daemon remembered the day,when he and Y/n came back together,hand in hand,after winning the war in the Stepstones,and how after,the same night,he went to his brother chambers.

«You said i could have anything i wanted when i gave you my crown.»he told to the King«I want Y/n,wed her to me.»then his knees touched the cold stone floor,a pure gaze of love and devotion in his eyes was powerful enough to have his wish come true.

Purple orbs scrutinized her angelic face,memorizing and mapping every inch of her skin just like they always did.From the way her soft rosy lips were slightly parted,her silky silver hair,strands of moonlight spread on her pillow,and her closed eyelids the closed the world outside.

Such a beautiful and mesmerizing sight should be forbidden for a man like him,but here she was,laying on her side trying to gather some energy back.She need that,more than anyone at the moment.Daemon hands traveled down her arm,savoring the soft texture of her skin,and landing on the growing belly hidden under her nightgown.

Fortunately this pregnancy had been much easier than the last one,the one that gave them two beautiful daughters,twins, Aemma,named after Y/n mother,and Alyssa,named after Daemon’s one.This time Y/n had enough strength to still be able to ride her dragon and to not spend all of her time laying in bed.

Softly Daemon face disappeared in his wife warm neck,lips ghostly kissing the tender skin in attempt to wake her up.A quiet whine,similar to a light breath,left the back of her throat,a little smile was now present on her face as she titled her head to give him more access to continue.

«Good morning,my little storm.»he greeted her,lips still hovering the sensitive flesh on her neck,his arms wrapped around her waist bringing her closer to him as his hands made their way to her stomach again.

«Morning my love.»Y/n voice was still sleepy,her eyes were adjusting to the light in the room,trying to take in as much as she could of her husband handsome features.

Daemon pale blonde hair tickled her cheek and his warm breath on her skin gave her goosebumps all over.The nickname, “Little storm”,the way he used to call when she was little due to her impetuous behavior,made her giggle while she started to play with his hair.

When Daemon palm met the swollen belly a smile stretched on his lips«How did you two slept?»he asked,callous finger brushing and caressing where his child was growing.

«He didn’t move at all,he must have been very tired.»she informed him,humming sweetly and placing a hand over his.

Daemon chest warmed at her words«He’s already listening to his father.»he chuckled a bit.

Both of them wished and hoped for a boy,it was no secret for anyone at this point.Y/n wanted nothing more than a little boy,a little version of his father with beautiful lavander eyes,to love and protect for the rest of her life.

A few seconds later,just like a magical effect,a little kick was felt against Daemon palm melting his heart«That’s my boy.»he whispered with a stupid grin on his face.

Carefully Y/n brought herself closer to her husband,nuzzling the tip of her nose in his hair,airways filled in his sweet scents«I want our son to be born at the Red Keep.»she stated.

Daemon hand faltered,tiling his head up,concerning eyes meeting his wife hopefully ones«You are to give birth at any moment,it would be too dangerous.»he explained to her.

Y/n smiled a little,a sad and distressing expression as she almost choked on her next words«And my father would most likely to be dead by the time i will be able to travel again.»

A sour taste on her tongue and tears forming in the corner of her eyes,the ache in her heart beating furiously in her chest heavy like a stone as she thought of it.Her father had always been nothing but doting and sweet to her,as his second daughter of his beloved first wife,he didn’t care about anything else but to make sure that she was happy and well satisfied with her life.

With the hours spent working on their little Valyria model together,laughing while he narrated to her the tales of their ancestors.All the times she stood right next to him in the small council or in the throne room,because one day she would have been the hand of the Queen and needed to learn about political issues and how to help her sister ruling the realm.

Daemon closed his eyes for a moment,just yesterday he received a crow from the Queen who informed him about his brother worrying declining health.He understood her,Y/n wanted nothing more for her father to witness the birth of his grandson,and how desperately she wished for her child to be a boy to see the gleaming smile that her father had when he met Rhaenyra children.

She wanted to make him proud,his sweet little daughter,one last time with the desire that her father wished to make come true with her mother.

«To King’s Landing then.»they stood there,fingers intertwined over her belly,enjoying each other presence silently celebrating the future birth of they third child.Their first boy.

The travel to King’s Landing happened the next day,Y/n stood on the boat,her eyes up in the clear warm sky as she watched her two daughters flying above her head on their dragons,a hand caressing her big stomach as her husband brushed the hair off her face.

Daemon insisted to be on her side,with Caraxes and Blackfyre,Y/n dragon,flying along side Aemma and Alyssa.From the horizon,the immense sight of the Red Keep started to make its view as the Targaryen boat plowed the calm sea.

Her father was in his chambers,laying in his bed,as Y/n made her way to visit him as soon as she entered the castle.The room was silent,warm and the smell of milk of the poppy lingered all over the place.

She stepped quietly,her long maroon dress brushing against the cold floor,her hands trembling as she pulled away the white tent of her father bed.The king was there,a pale and ill face,a bald head with just some tufts of hair falling on his shoulders,black teeth and ad a white cloth covering the right side of his old and deterioreted face.

«Aemma?»her father voice came out with a choked breath as he opened his eye and looked at blurred figure.

Y/n heart ached in her chest,the memory of her late mother,the whole she had left behind,was still present after all this years«Father»she addressed him with a sweet voice«It’s me,Y/n.»her warm and young hands took his cold and shivering ones,caressing the skin with her thumbs.

«Oh,my Y/n.»her father eyes watered just like hers,his voice broken with emotions«My beautiful daughter.»he called her close to place a wet kiss on her forehead.

«Where are your girls?»he asked then trying to look around the room in search for his granddaughters.

Y/n wiped the tears in her eyes,smiling«They are with me and they will come to visit you soon with someone new.»she told him.

With her father confused expression,of someone who forgot,Y/n brought his hands to her stomach«Your grandson.»

«A boy?»her father cried out.

She nodded«It will be this time,i promise you.»

Her father let go of her hand,shaking his head with a painful whine coming from his lips«Do not make my same mistakes.All of my life i chased a foul dream when everything that i needed was right there before my eyes.»he told her.

Y/n never realized how persistent had become her wish for a son,her wish to give his father what he didn’t have for years,a boy he would have cared about and loved just like he was his.It felt like she owned him a son,being born with a dead twin brother,Y/n,a daughter,came to the world instead of the heir her father longed for.And right now it felt like it was her duty to give tho world a beautiful Targaryen boy for the one that she stole.

«This boy will not be a mistake,father.He will be our blessing.»

The water in the bathtub was warm,almost boiling,but that was the temperature that a dragon needed.

Y/n was sitting there,her back pressed against her husband naked chest,while his hands were caressing her belly with a wet cloth.Hours after she had visited her father,Daemon ha spoke to the Grand Maester asking him of a way to ease Y/n before her time came.A warm bath seemed like the best option,so the rough prince didn’t waste anytime to prepare one.

She hummed quietly,closing her eyes and tasting the relived sensation«Thank you for letting me having time alone with him.»she whispered.

Daemon kissed the back of her head,where her hair were tied up,the smell of roses and cinnamon and the little babbles tickled his skin«How was he?»he asked with a calm voice.

Different,she wanted to answer him.An empty shell of a man was what there was left behind of her father and it pained her.

«He was happy to see me.»she said,the lump in her throat felt thick as she nuzzled her head in her husband neck to seek comfort.

Daemon forced a smile on his lips,planting them on Y/n warms one«He will be happy to meet his grandson too.»he murmured against them.

Y/n didn’t said anything,at this point she didn’t knew anymore.From the moment she was pregnant again in her bones and in her heart she was sure it was gonna to be a boy,but right now,maybe,it was just her blind desire to speak to her just like it did to her father.

«Viserys.»she has said then all of the sudden,in her mind the vivid imagine of her father.

She felt Daemon confused expression behind her as he was holding her close to him«I want our son to be named Viserys.»

It happened during the first light in the morning,the sun was rising behind the hills of King’s Landing when the Red Keep was awakened by the cries of a new life coming to this earth.

The first day of summer,when the air smelled like sea salt,the weather was warm and the city started to live again,little prince Viserys Targaryen was placed in his mother loving embrace.

Daemon was sitting behind Y/n,holding her back up during the entire labor and caressing her sweaty skin whispering in her ears comforting words«It’s him,it’s our Viserys.»he said,his eyes were sparkling with hot tears.

Y/n heart was hammering into her chest,her vision blurred with tears as she looked down at the small bud in her arms.He was absolutely perfect,from his little nose,white tufts of hair on his head and innocent lilac eyes,her son was everything she dreamed for.But then,just like a horrible memory,she remembered the only time she had the chance to hold her younger brother,Baelon,before his soul would have left this life the next day.

«Is he healthy?»Y/n asked holding her son closer to her.

The midwife nodded«The healthiest boy i’ve ever seen,princess.»she reassured her.

«I’m so proud of you.»her husband whispered to her,kissing the side of her face.

She smiled,handing her son to the midwife that confused took him in her arms.The baby started to cry again,pitching screams filled the room,missing his mother soft touch.

«What are you doing?»Daemon asked,concerns all over his face.

«Help me to get up.»Y/n urged him searching hurriedly for his hands.

Her legs felt like they were about to melt under her,the pain between her legs and her desire to just close her eyes and sleep for the entire day to gain back some strength disappeared completely.Tossed side to her aim,letting her father meet his grandson.

Daemon was on his feet immediately,helping Y/n on hers,holding her tired and trembling form to prevent her to hurt herself«You need to rest.»he told her.

«I have all my life for that.»she said with a strained and hoarse voice«My father doesn’t and i promised him that he would had met his grandson.»two servants girl were called in,one of them drying Y/n sweaty face and the other helping her to dress.

Her husband sighed with sad eyes as he walked slowly besides her,step by step till the King room.

«Y/n?»Alicent surprised voice was the first thing they heard once they entered the room«What are you doing here?You should be resting.»she sounded worried as he hurried in her way,holding her other arm for support.

«That’s what i told her.»Daemon muttered under his breath.

The princess shook her head,holding her son up to her chest as her step mother and husband accompanied her to where her father was.

The King was still laying in his bed,his eyes half closed«Y/n?»he asked confused when he saw his daughter coming closer.

She hissed in pain«Father»she called him«There is someone we wish to introduce to you.»her sweet voice sounded full of happiness.

Her father eyes darted to his daughter husband for a second,relived to see him for the last time«Daemon.»he greeted him.

He did the same,hiding his pained expression to see his brother in that state«Brother,this is your grandson,Viserys.»he announced.

And for him there was nothing more beautiful that the result of an undying love,nothing more perfect that his grandson little face as he looked up at him,nothing warmed his heart more than being able to witness what his daughter promised to him.

«Viserys»he tasted the name on his tongue«a name fit for a king.»

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cryinginmyroomsposts · 3 months

Text

Maybe - Jeongin

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x Reader

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, unrequited love, best friend Jeongin, winter weather, angsty yearning

a/n: not proofread, just trying to live my delusions through writing (I am hopelessly down the rabbit hole)

masterlist

"Be careful. It's slippery." It's the bare minimum and you are aware of that but the tumble your stomach takes and the giddiness in your heart indicate that you definitely did not get it.

Jeongin came into your life like a Manhattan wind- strong, surprising and mind-boggling. He changed the course of your life in an abhorrently short time. Everything about him screamed your type, especially that damned dimple. And you were so hopelessly in love that the fact that he insists on referring to you as his "bestest friend" almost every day breaks your heart and stitches it right back up.

You watch as he brushes his hair away from his face, those smooth dark black fringes framing his face as he breathes out fog in winter. You have been admiring his features, his beauty and all of him since the wind was a welcome change to the heat. Now the wind sends a chill down your spine and you hug yourself a little tighter.

He leads the way, looking around excitedly like a kid. The frozen lake forms a scenery of serenity and calm unknown to the ever turbulent heart of yours. Winters have always been rough on you, the cold can be cruel to those without enough layers to keep them warm. This one might be different. Or so you hope.

"Y/N, stop dreaming and keep walking. Eyes on the ground." Jeongin tries his best to sound stern but the concern drips sweetness from his voice.

"Shut up, Jeongin. I'm completely fin-AH!" As luck would have it, right as you finished the sentence you stepped on some fresh ice and slipped. Giving up on pretending to be graceful, you let yourself fall flat on your ass.

"Go ahead and tell me 'told you so'", you groan, lowering your voice for the last three words in an exaggerated imitation of Jeongin's voice. Looking up you notice that Jeongin looks like he's having a seizure from all the laughing he is doing. You begin to pout, but the view is too good to even be embarrassed or disappointed.

His fox eyes are crinkled into two straight lines, dimples deep and cheeks flushed bright red. He's bending over in laughter, looking up and down, pushing away his fringe from his face. The big coat envelopes him, the sun sinking into the water behind him. Jeongin is a sight for sore eyes even on a regular day, but a Jeongin radiating pure bliss is a full-on painting you could sit and admire for days on end.

"Yaa! What are you staring at? Get up before you freeze to death." His voice brings you back to reality and suddenly the snow under you starts to make its temperature known and you get up as fast as possible.

Dusting the snow off you and straightening your clothes, you walk to join Jeongin who is a few steps ahead of you staring at the scenery.

"When will you stop falling Y/N..." He jokes silently.

You make it impossible to not fall every second I am with you.

"Only if you ever leave..." you say silently.

He turns to you with a questioning look and you smile as you shake your head and look at the impending sunset against the snow-covered park.

Maybe he'll never know how hard you have fallen for him. Maybe Jeongin will wake up one summer day realising that the sparkle in your eyes and the blush on your cheeks was not the winter's fault. Maybe he will fall with you one day. And maybe one day, your thoughts won't just be filled with maybe's. But for now, he's here. That's all that matters. You have him in your life, you get to love someone as radiant as the summer sun and as calming as the midnight moon. You have Jeongin. That's enough. "Innie, shall we go?"

"After you, Milady."

The sound of giggles fills the dense winter air as a boy and a girl walk side by side, unaware of how much they love each other in silence.

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violettduchess · 7 months

Text

A/N: It was going to be an Afterglow fic but it just got too long so it's just some Silvio fluff with a bit of spice

Silvio x Reader

WC: 1.2k

The rain is a never-ending sheet of falling gray outside your bedroom window. Your fingertips brush the cold glass lightly, as if afraid you might shatter it with the force of your desire to spot him. But no matter how long you stare, it doesn’t grow any clearer. You can make out nothing through the torrential downpour.

“Sudden rain like this is common during the summer season, Signora. His Highness knows how to handle a ship in such weather.”

You rip your gaze away from the gloom to look at Carlo. He offers you a tremulous smile, one you see is doing a poor job at masking the concern in his eyes.

“Silvio isn’t captaining the ship. What if the young captain runs into trouble or makes an error in judgment?” Worry seeps across your words, rising from the churning pool in your heart.

“Do you really believe his highness would allow anything to come between him and returning to you?”

He places a hand on your shoulder and despite the rolling waves of concern in your heart, you find yourself feeling somewhat comforted.

“Come, the hour is late. A warm cup of tea and sleep will bring him home faster.”

You allow Carlo to gently lead you away from the arched window and the insistent wall of rain just outside of it.

“Fuckin’ rain,” he mutters as he slowly pushes open the white wooden doors of the royal bedroom. A damp towel hangs around his bare shoulders, thanks to Carlo who had come rushing to meet him and the others at the docks with warm tea, towels and umbrellas to get them safely back to the palace in the heavy rain. The moment he got through the door Silvio had removed his drenched boots and socks as well as his sopping wet tunic and jacket before towel-drying his hair as he took the stairs two at a time to get to you.

He knows the ship was scheduled to return hours ago and he knows you, being the worrywart you are, were probably tossing and turning or maybe even stupid enough to wait up for him.

What he did not expect was to stumble backwards against the bedroom door with a loud clunk as you launched yourself at him from the bed, slamming against him with all the force of a hurricane.

“The fuck-” The words are cut off by your hands grabbing his face and pulling him down so your mouth can cover his. You kiss him with all the rioting emotions that are whipping through you: relief that he is back, the fear that nearly drowned you at the lateness of his arrival, the explosive desire to welcome him home.

And so locked in each other’s embrace, you stumble to the nearest piece of furniture, the camelback sofa, an incredibly beautiful, far too expensive engagement present made of the softest azure fabric.

And there you stay.

“Missed me so much ya couldn’t even lemme get through the damn door before jumpin’ me, huh.”

His words are right by your ear, soft and airy as his heart is still slowing from the frantic racing you caused the moment you threw your arms around him. Now you are the one wrapped in his embrace, still straddling him, your forehead resting against his bare shoulder as you catch your own wobbling breath. With a groan, he shifts you onto his lap so he can stretch out his long legs which were already aching before he arrived back in Benitoite.

“Maybe,” you murmur as you lay your head down on him. His slender fingers tug on the hem of your nightgown where it is bunched at your hips, pulling it down to cover your legs as best he can. He shakes his head at your coy answer, his hair still damp with rainwater. A few drops fall across your skin but it doesn’t matter. He’s still got his wet pants somewhat on, your nightgown is now flecked with large wet patches. In the match up between lascivious impatience and rational thinking, the latter had no chance at all.

“Maybe, my ass.”

You twist in his arms, snuggling closer and your cheek brushes against the cold gold chain of his necklaces. Frowning, you lean away from him even as he reaches to pull you back against his chest.

“Whaddya doin’, woman? It’s cold if you move away.”

You shoot him a Look but then lean forward, reaching around, carefully lifting the first, longer gold chain from his neck.

“You know I don’t like when you leave your jewelry on.”

He leans back, splaying his long arms along the back of the couch.

“You were the one who attacked me. I’m an innocent victim of you needin’ to get some.”

You snort in a decidedly unladylike way as you carefully undo the clasp of his second gold necklace.

“You? Innocent? Pffft.”

Your sass earns you a pinch on the nose and you jerk away with a laugh as you carefully lay his necklaces down on the side table next to the couch. Settling yourself more comfortably on his lap, you reach for one hand and pull it close to you, holding it as you carefully begin removing his rings.

He’s grown quiet, watching as you slip the gold from his fingers, one by one. Normally he would never let anyone touch him like this. But you aren’t just anyone. You’re the only person who has ever managed to see past the bluster of his blunt words and questionable actions, the one who pierced that glistening, golden armor of coins and snark and then stripped it away, laying his heart as bare as his fingers are right now.

His rings are carefully laid beside his necklaces and you raise his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. A flush creeps across the steep planes of his cheeks as he drops his gaze, still unable to witness such open tenderness without it sending waves of uncontrollable emotion through him. An ocean of affection and love he is still learning to navigate.

He reaches up and tousles your hair, enjoying the silky feel of it through his fingers, the way it falls messily over your head when he is done, and especially the way your bright eyes narrow and those lips of yours press together in a pout he’s come to treasure as much as any coin.

“Whaddya say we get off this damp couch, get rid of the rest of these soggy ass clothes and you get the pleasure of scrubbin' me clean?"

He says you'll wash him but you both know the truth: there's little that Silvio enjoys, truly deeply enjoys down to his core, more than pampering you in the bathtub.

You grin slowly, already warmed by the spark in his sea-blue eyes.

“For once, you have a good idea.”

"For once?!!"

But you're already moving. You leap off his lap, narrowly avoiding the smack he was aiming at your backside and take off for the bathroom, unable to hold in your jubilant laughter as Silvio struggles to follow in his incredibly uncooperative, still-wet, stiff pants, huffing something about sassy women and smart mouths……with the happiest grin on his stupidly handsome face.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @bellerose-arcana @ikemen-writer @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @mxrmaid-poet @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381 @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen silvio #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #violettwrites

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bettathanyou · 4 months

Note

I'm really new to the fandom (I got in it because I am absolutely in love with this wet-cat of a man, Cedric) but I already have the head canon that Cedric thinks he's (romantically) unlovable. It just doesn't compute in his brain that someone could have such feelings about him. Sure, he can be liked and admired but never loved. (Probably due to his traumas)

Can you write a little thing about Y/N being not very subtle about their feelings but Cedric just doesn't get it. Sofia tries to even be a little match-maker!

Sofia: I think Y/N has a crush on you! :D Cedric: You should know better than to lie.

Take A Hint: Y/N x Cedric The Sorcerer, Having A Crush!

"Cedric!"

Your voice carried through the breeze of the garden, the trees rustling softly alongside your hair being tousled by the wind. It was another fair weather, perfectly sunny day in Enchancia; right now, though, all you cared about was centered on the sorcerer in plum stained robes.

He was grumbling to himself, oblivious to your approach.

"Cedric...!"

You called out louder, your pace subconsciously picking up as you approached Cedric. Upon your second greeting, the man visibly flinched, clearly snapped out of whatever daze he was in before.

Cedric quickly turned his head towards you standing there, his mahogany irises lighting up in recognition and warmth. The man's lanky body was still half bent over the lavender bush in front of him, with silvery grey bangs hung slightly in his eyes.

You beam Cedric a giddy smile, feeling your heart race by just seeing those caramel eyes fixed on you. What made your stomach flip, though, was seeing the sweet and shy smile creep along the sorcerer's cheeks to return your own smile.

In a last minute decision, you decide to be bold; because, well- you tried being subtle for weeks about your feelings! You had hoped for all the small touches, winks from catching eye contact, and compliments that the sorcerer would've noticed by now.

However, Cedric wasn't getting it; you were going to go mad at this rate, if this slow burn got any damn slower.

Your fingers gently brush a lock of thick, silky silver out of Cedric's eye. You see the man freeze from contact, clearly not expecting such close proximity. Cedric swallows, hard, holding his breath and hoping you couldn't hear his heart slamming against his chest.

His eyes stay fixed on you, as you adjust his bangs without a word- and you certainly weren't complaining. Cedric's eyes were already a lovely light brown color on their own, but in the bright summer sun they shined like pools of molten gold, the kind any noble or king would envy.

He was beautiful, and the glow in your cheeks damned you to how much you liked him.

As you pull your hand away, your fingertips brush against his cheek. It was like a match being struck against the grain, setting Cedric's skin ablaze with a red hue.

You giggle slightly, biting your tongue trying not to embarrass him further.

"... Your bangs are starting to get longer, Cedric." You commented with a smirk, unabashedly checking him out.

"It's- Uh, well- I..." The sorcerer fumbles with his words, then his hands with a nervous tick.

"I like it, you know."

I like you, too. You thought to yourself, the words almost tumbling out of your throat alongside it.

Cedric laughs awkwardly, clearly unsure how else to take your compliment other than a small, "Thank you, dear."

Wait.

"...Dear?"

You cock your head to the side, a Cheshire grin spreading across your face.

Cedric raises his brows in equal parts surprise and distress, as if he didn't even know what came out of his mouth. He scrambles to say something, but you don't give him the opportunity to apologize or try to take back what he said.

"I think I like that, too~"

You confess with a soft chuckle, breaking eye contact as your own bashfulness begins to catch up to you. You rub your arm a little self consciously, to soothe your nerves before glancing back at the sorcerer.

Cedric inwardly flinches from your eyes catching his own again. He didn't understand why you were so nice, and friendly, and happy to be around someone like him, but. It felt... Good- and nerve-wracking.

Definitely nerve-wracking.

It was like your presence alone made every nerve ending in his body be set on fire, and he wasn't exactly sure why. But the stinging glow of his cheeks, raised body temperature, and sudden loss for words due to a curious kind of brain fog that only happens around you...

Cedric shakes his head, blinking quickly to regain his focus. He didn't know how long he was staring for, and frankly the sorcerer didn't want to think about it. He stutters out a response, clearing his throat.

"Well, if you're al-alright with t-that, I can address you as s-uch." The sorcerer speaks in a neutral tone, but with a slight raise to his voice as if he was asking for permission.

You bite your tongue to barely conceal a squeal of happiness.

"That's fine..." You drawled out, but then quickly added, "Can call you dear, too?"

Cedric glances away, tugging on his muted yellow ochre tie. His initial response was to ask "why?" , because he wasn't sure why you would use such a term of endearment, for someone like himself.

But then, he also knew if he asked you why, then he would have to answer your following question, which is usually,

"well, why not?"

"...I suppose that's only fair; alright then."

Cedric nods, straightening up and smoothing down the front of his robe. He clears his throat again, taking in a deep breath.

"So, what did you need from me... D-dear?" Cedric chuckles nervously to himself, suddenly feeling very aware of everything and especially you, staring at him and making his heart race uncontrollably.

You huff in amusement, lips curled into a small smile.

"I just wanted to spend my break in the garden, really. Then, I saw you! So I wanted to say hi and chat- if you're not too busy...?"

You glanced over to the lavender bush Cedric was studying before you interrupted. It seemed like nothing was picked just yet, and suddenly you feel nervous about distracting Cedric from his work. You know the tight schedule he can have, over the course of getting to know him between his running around doing things for Roland or the royal children.

You go to open your mouth to apologize, but before a word can leave your lips Cedric is already speaking.

"No...! No, not at all, (y/n). I-I mean, yes, I am busy, but I meant-..." Cedric scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly as he trails off.

Your heart flutters, whether it's from his smile or your own anxiety, you weren't sure.

"...Yes, my dear?" You offer with a smile, rocking on your heels for emphasis.

Cedric chuckles softly at that, his shoulders relaxing as he laughs. You can only smile wider in return, a loss for words at how every mannerism of his makes you come undone at the seams.

"I will always have time for you, (y/n)."

Cedric speaks with a soft, but confident voice, nodding to you. You blink, not expecting such a drastic shift of attitude from the sorcerer.

"Ri-right...!" You replied, voice shaking slightly. Now, it seems it was your turn to be flustered beyond coherent thought.

You both continue to chit chat about things happening currently in the castle, as well as get to listen to Cedric explain what he's using the lavender he's harvesting for; unsurprisingly, it's for a potion.

To be honest, you couldn't really focus on what he was saying entirely, because of Cedric's tendency to (cutely) ramble about magic things. But you didn't care in the slightest; the shimmer in his eyes as he speaks with passion about things he loves, is all that you need to see.

Afterwards, you sadly tell Cedric you have to get back to work, but then ask really quick if you can stop by his workshop later to see the potion he's making in action. He agrees, almost too quickly, which leaves you with a smile that lasts all day.

"I'll see you then, dear!" You call out, waving your hand in goodbye.

Cedric waves back, not realizing the smile on his own face.

________

"Mr. Cedric!" Sofia barks out excitedly, already running over to the tall man.

Cedric yells in surprise, nearly jumping out of his skin from the sudden appearance of his apprentice and friend.

"Princess...! Merlin's mushrooms, child, you scared me half to death!" Cedric chided her with a huff, pushing back his bangs.

"Sorry...!" The young girl peeks up from her auburn curls, flashing Cedric an apologetic smile.

After a beat, Cedric relents, sighing in resignation.

"It's quite alright. Did you get everything on the list I gave you?"

"Yup! All accounted for!"

Sofia displays her basket of herbs and flowers proudly with a bright, cheery smile.

Cedric hums in approval, quickly looking over everything to make sure it's correct.

After a moment, he nods, patting Sofia's head in praise.

"Excellent work, my dear."

Sofia chuckled warmly. "Thanks, Mr. Cedric."

As they brought in the ingredients for the potion, Sofia eyed the man with a mischievous smile.

"So... You're gonna show (y/n) the potion too, right Mr. Cedric?"

Cedric paused for a moment, looking down at the girl. She wore a smile he knew all too well meant trouble, and he didn't like it.

"You know better than to eavesdrop, Princess."

"I wasn't...! I mean, not really! I just couldn't help but overhear while picking the flowers!"

Sofia grabbed a daffodil for emphasis, holding it up to the sorcerer like it was indisputable evidence.

Cedric scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he waved her off.

"Yes, yes, I understand what you mean, Sofia."

As they continue down the hall, about to turn the corner into Cedric's tower staircase, Sofia speaks again.

"You know, Mr. Cedric, (y/n) seems to really like you. Do you think... She might..." The girl wanders off, biting her lip and smiling.

"She might what?" Cedric prompts her with a concerned tone, his hands turning clammy as the silence fills the space around them.

"...You know! likes, likes you?" Sofia giggles, eyeing Cedric with another smile.

Cedric huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea makes his cheeks flare a bright red at the thought, even if the idea was absurd to begin with. After all, it's you. You're too beautiful, too kind, too interesting, too- too you, to even consider a bumbler like himself.

"It's rude to gossip, Sofia. You ought to know better." Cedric scowled, giving the girl a pointed look with a raised brow.

"I'm just saying...!" Sofia replied in a sing song voice, shrugging.

Now-," Cedric turns to her, pulling out his wand. With a flick of the wrist, the basket disappeared, teleported back to the cluttered table of his workshop beyond the door.

"As much as I appreciate your hard work today, I'm afraid I have to do the rest alone." Cedric speaks with a firmer, but still kind tone.

"Well... Alright! I hope everything goes well with your potion, Mr. Cedric!" Sofia waves in goodbye, and the sorcerer smiles and gives her a wave in return. Her purple and pink shirts swish as she turns to bounce down the steps, hearing the familiar creak of Cedric's door about to shut.

Sofia glances back, smiling brightly.

"I hope things go well with you-know-who, too!"

Cedric's heart stops, and he flings the door open to scold the child again. Yet, the only thing on his steps now was empty space, and the echo of Sofia's giddy laugh as she stomps down the staircase.

"...Don't run, Sofia! You're going to fall one of these days!" Cedric yells with the impatient yet caring attitude that Sofia knows and loves.

Though Cedric sighs wearily, he shuts his door with a broad smile on his face, his heart aching in that unfamiliar but welcome way that means he's thinking of you.

#cedric the sensational #cedricthesorceror #sophia the first #cedric x reader #bettathanyou answers #cedric the sorcerer #cedric sofia the first #hehe this was SO FUN TO WRITE AUGH

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theoneeyedprince · 9 months

Text

A Refined Taste

Part 3: White Sunshine

Previous Part ◇ Next Part ◇ Series Masterlist ◇ Main Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: A surprise visit from the other side of the family creates an environment for learning new things and you find yourself spending more time with Aemond... alone.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, sensual themes, mentions of weed smoking, suggestive content, mention of animal related medical procedure and illness, kind of a slow burn.

Word count: 4.5k

From the author: Hi, dears! Slowly but surely we are getting there! The library will be a witness to some interesting things, just saying, so you can prepare 😏 As always, thank you for the support and hope you'll like this one <3

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

The weather’s stayed the same for two days since you came back from the wine tasting and you’ve spent every single minute outside.

You found yourself enjoying the lazy leisures immensely and envied anyone who’s got to live that way every single day and not only when a lucky opportunity comes their way.

When you reminded yourself that you’ll have to go back to King’s Landing by the end of the summer and return to your mundane reality, you immediately decide to cherish every moment spent here.

Take life in handfuls, like rich people do.

An example of that would be the siblings’ cousin, Baela, and nephew, Jace, deciding to surprise them on their way to Highgarden, where they’re going for vacation, knowing perfectly well that their visit wouldn’t interfere with the Targaryen’s summer schedule.

At least that’s what they say after parking in the driveway in their freshly polished grey BMW X5.

“As if you would be anywhere else right now!” Jace laughs, gaining an annoyed look from Aegon. “What? You’re going to the Darklyns’ next month, as per usual.”

“Yeah, but still. Don’t want to be that predictable.” He answers his nephew and looks up and down the broad-chested and dark-haired friend of Baela and Jace named Cregan.

He evidently doesn’t reciprocate it and you wonder if there’s some kind of bad blood between them.

This family’s dynamics never cease to stop curiosity from eating you alive. It’s all so very dramatic. As if you were witnessing a play being performed in front of you. Constantly.

“We won’t be here long, I promise!” Says Baela as she puts her hair in a tight bun and you can’t help but marvel at the beauty of it.

Damn it, their whole family won a gene lottery, you think to yourself, while listening to their conversation.

“Also, your mother already knows.” Jace leans against one of the car’s doors and as on cue, Helaena’s phone rings. She shows all of you the screen with ‘Mom’ written on it and picks up the call.

Jace grins to himself and nods to Cregan to pick up their things. You see them sending barely visible smiles to each other and it reminds you too much of the smiles Helaena and Argella gave each other at the beginning of their relationship, thinking you wouldn’t notice anything.

Oh. You’re curious if anyone else, except probably Baela, knows.

The damned curiosity! It’ll definitely get you in trouble soon.

The siblings’ family is a fun party to be around as you find out during brunch and you wish you could’ve met Rhaena and Luke as well. Baela said they’re obsessed with sports activities and the mention of it led you to the place you’re currently at.

You stand at the family’s tennis court waiting impatiently for everyone to join you, twirling the rocket on the ground, moving from one leg to another.

Your sister and Helaena are already sitting on the chairs reserved for referees, talking about something enthusiastically as you stare at the water in front of you.

Helaena’s voice gets louder and you turn around with a water bottle pressed to your lips.

“It’s just a friendly match, don’t worry! Aemond can always teach you the basics. He’s actually a very good teacher. As outlandish as it might sound to you.”

You choke on your water and hope that the blush on your cheeks and neck is attributed only to the undignified gag reflex.

The fact your body responds in such a way to the mere mention of his name should be alarming.

You touched hands once. Get a grip. You keep on reminding yourself.

Argella’s quick to run to you and pat your back in an attempt to help you but you put your hand up letting her know it’s all right now.

The sudden gush of the wind swipes through the leaves of the trees and bushes around the court, carrying the voices of the incoming group of people your way.

Everyone’s dressed in white as if it was an unspoken rule and you’re glad Helaena let you borrow her spare skirt and her mother’s shirt that ‘she wore maybe twice since buying it’ as Helaena said. The cheapest piece of clothing on you are your favourite white Adidas shoes that suddenly feel incredibly out of place.

But no one seems to care as they greet you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to play tennis again!”

Baela’s voice carries from the opposite side of the court as she spins around, making the hem of her skirt float around her tights.

“Are we playing in pairs?” Cregan asks, silently counting everyone present.

“Yeah, why not!” Helaena shouts and comes down, taking Argella’s hand.

You feel a nervous beating of your heart in your chest.

“Will you forgive me if I sat the matches out? I need to learn the basics.”

Jace raises an eyebrow at your confession but says nothing.

“Sure, don’t worry about it.”

Cregan sends you a warm smile and you nod in thanks.

You step aside to the tall referee chairs your sister and Helaena sat on moments ago just as Aegon runs up and pinches your waist.

“Aegon! What in the Seven Hells?” You shout out in surprise.

“I’m feeling so good right now.” He says, grinning and showing you his straight white teeth.

The smell of weed reaches your nose and there’s nothing else to do but roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

You shove his shoulder playfully.

“Argella said you’ve never played tennis and I know who’d be willing to teach you.” He smirks mysteriously and for some reason you sense that Aegon means the same person as his sister did.

“Oh, really?” You play along with Aegon’s teasing. Nervousness and excitement boiling in your veins.

“Yeah, really.” And he turns his head to Aemond’s direction, who’s closing the wicket behind him.

He looks as if he was bathed in white sunshine—shining in the midday sun from all sides.

It’s almost unfair how someone can be that good looking. Almost unreal.

“I can teach you the basics, if you want!”

You hear Baela shout out to you in the distance.

You’re about to agree, not really believing in Helaena’s and Aegon’s earlier suggestions, but then you hear Aemond’s voice respond and your whole body freezes in place.

“I’ll take care of it. Team up with Baela, Aegon. Like the good old days.”

The older brother smiles at Aemond suggestively and sends your way a very inappropriate gesture.

It’s a hard thing to ignore and you bite the inside of your cheek not to show on your face how you feel because of it.

And you feel a lot. To put it simply.

Aemond hums, not letting you know what he thinks of Aegon’s dirty allusions, and Gods, you wish you knew what’s going on inside his head.

“There’s a smaller court behind the observation deck.” It’s all he says and you follow him, catching your sister’s confused expression before you disappear from her plain of sight.

The court looks the same but like Aemond said it is quite small. You wonder if it was put next to the main one to be used by kids and if the siblings practised here in their childhood.

A pressing grunt forces you to stop looking around and pay your attention to him.

Aemond stands with one hand in the pocket of his white tennis shorts and the other tightly gripping his tennis racket. The knuckles of his hand are white, almost like the clothes he’s wearing.

He looks so damn good in the morning light and well-fitted clothes that probably were tailor made for him that you need to remind yourself to focus on the task ahead. Getting distracted won’t do you any good. Especially not when he’s the one person that can easily judge your every wrong move. And you’re sure you’ll make beginner's mistakes soon.

“Stand there.”

He points at the middle of the side of the court you both are standing on. You follow him and do as he says, gripping the handle of the racket harder than necessary. But you can’t help your nerves.

“Are you always so demanding?” You respond as he moves to your right side.

His tall and lean frame casts a shade over you but instead of feeling a cool relief, the temperature of your body rises because of the close proximity between your bodies.

“Depends on the student.” He hums and then, with only the tips of his fingers, he pushes your racket gripping hand to the left.

A light gasp escapes you at the contact but you try to play it off by pretending to cough and then moving the racket to the right, swinging it a couple of times in the same manner.

He hums again and moves to your left as he finally starts to talk and not drive you insane by the brief touches he so clearly enjoys giving.

“It’s an energetic game, so your swings have to be dynamic and springly.”

He shows you the way he does it and you repeat after him.

“Smooth movements.”

Now he stands in front of you and watches you attentively.

You can see him tilting his head slightly to the side and squinting his eyes.

That’s what you were nervous about—him judging you but there’s also something else in his expression.

Something that forces you to swallow slowly before speaking up.

“Is that okay?”

It’s as if your question woke him from his own reverie—he blinks swiftly and takes one big step forward.

His voice is a bit hoarse when he answers.

“Quite well.”

The sound goes right to the intimate part between your tights and you don’t even try to ignore the sudden throbbing you’re feeling there.

“I’m a fast learner.”

Your own voice lowers slightly and now, feeling your body taking the reins instead of your brain, it doesn't surprise you how clearly it comes off as flirty.

There’s a flicker in his violet eye right after the words slip from your tongue and his lips give in to an impish smirk.

Aemond tosses a tennis racket in such a way that it spins in the air and lands perfectly in his stretched out fingers.

“Let’s continue then.”

After your private training session with Aemond and the matches taking place on the main court, the afternoon is spent on playing card games by the pool.

You sit under a wide beige sunshade, giving up on sunbathing with Argella and Baela a while ago and joining Helaena and the boys in an innocent game of poker.

You look at your cards and hate what you see but swiftly wipe off the wince from your face when Jace points at his eye and then to you, showing you that he’s watching you.

Well, poker—the game and the face—isn’t something you’ve ever mastered.

“Where are Rhaena and Luke?”

Aegon asks and you see Aemond shift slightly on the sunbed he occupies.

He joined you half an hour ago, with a book in his hand, which surprises you only momentarily. But then you remember that he spends most of his time in the family library anyway.

You’ve tried not to glance his way after leaving the tennis court but now that he’s casually laying in the same space as you, and so close, you’ve failed miserably.

How’s it possible that with only scarce words, fleeting glances and feather-like touches, he managed to make a burning mess out of your body and mind? In such a short time, adding to that.

Seven Hells take this man for making you feel like you’re slowly sparling out of control of your own emotions.

Jace’s voice shakes you out if it.

“Luke’s at home. He’ll come to the Darklyns’ with mom. Rhaena’s already in Highgarden. She’s got a boyfriend from Oldtown, you know? A Hightower, actually.”

Aegon raises an eyebrow at the news, and you assume that at the unapproving tone of Jace’s voice too and gives his nephew a smug smile. He then shuffles the cards and quickly looks at Aemond as if he wanted his brother to share his amusement.

You turn around, curious to see his reaction but you’re as disappointed as Aegon ends up being.

Aemond seems wholly uninterested in your conversation. His long legs are stretched out and crossed at the ankle, his hands rest on his—clothed in Ralph Lauren tank top—torso, and you can see the muscles of his arms stretch or flex whenever he moves them.

His face is hidden behind a beautiful dark-green cover of The Great Gatsby. The book is opened somewhat in the middle and acts as a shield from the sun, even though most of his body is covered in the shade anyway.

When you saw what he was reading, it only half surprised you. For some reason a novel that comments on social classes, the rich in particular, being read by him doesn’t shock you as you thought it would. Fits to his pretentious rich boy persona you got the impression of thus far.

Your own copy of Pride and Prejudice lies on your thighs and, as you cannot help yourself from looking at Aemond from the corner of your eye, you’ve managed to catch him looking in the book’s direction two times.

Three times now, you realise when you reach for the book and turn to the side in order to put it on the empty sunbed that was previously occupied by Aegon and now separates your small group from Aemond.

But when your eyes meet, he only licks his index finger and turns the page of his book that he must’ve just resumed reading, seeming not at all embarrassed to be caught looking.

A stark contrast to you as you feel your blood rushing and beating furiously in your veins at the sight of the meeting of his finger and the tip of his tongue.

The warmth of the sun on your face is definitely being replaced by the one set by Aemond’s gaze, which drags lazily over you.

It reminds you of the way he looked at you the night you met.

But this time it feels different and quite similar to the way he looked at you at the tennis court. In a way that makes your whole body tingle with anticipation.

You turn around quickly but the feeling doesn’t go away. You can feel his healthy eye drilling a hole in your back and the thought distracts you from the game—you lose in quite a pathetic fashion.

You bend slightly over the table to push your cards and coins to Aegon, suddenly grateful for the beach shawl Helaena lent you that’s wrapped around your waist, covering your lower body.

Aemond’s eye grazing over your black one piece swimsuit was enough to light your skin on fire. The low neckline is enough of a tease, so at least the shawl gives an impression that you don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to yourself.

Not that you thought about it the moment he joined you by the pool.

“Thanks for that.”

Aegon winks at you and speaks to Helaena right after Jace leaves the table and joins Cregan in the pool.

“Is Baela with Stark then? I thought Rhaena was.” He takes his glass of vodka lemonade and puts it to his temple to cool himself, leaving it this way while continuing his thought. “Wait, no.” He’s silent for a moment and then he sighs. “Shit, I keep on forgetting who dates who.”

Helaena lowers her sunglasses and gives him a cheeky grin.

“Wasn’t it you who hooked up with Cregan and then ignored him after, behaving like a complete dick? Don’t pretend you don’t remember.”

Your eyes widen and you see your sister removing one of her earpods and straightening up on the chair next to Helaena. The two of you are a mirror to each other’s reaction.

“Well, now that you reminded me of that…” He shrugs as if it didn’t bother him and drinks from the metal straw. But you remember seeing him checking Cregan out and you’re quite sure that him coming with Jace and Baela took Aegon off guard.

You open your mouth before thinking about the words that rush to come out.

“I think that Jace and Cregan are a thing.”

Aegon stops drinking and you hear a low, mean sounding chuckle coming from behind you.

He glares at Aemond and mutters “shut up”, which you’re sure did nothing to stop the younger brother from his silent mocking.

“I’m going for a swim.” He stands up and after a quick glance at the pool, he adds: “In the sea.” He points at you with the drink still in his hand. “You wanna come? I wonder what else you might’ve noticed going on in our little group.”

“No, thanks. I’d like to see the library. Finally.” You punctuate the last word and stand next to Aegon.

As you do it, you hear the creaking of the sunbed and when you turn around Aemond’s gone.

Is he serious?

“Is there a body he hides in there? Or a secret wife in his own type of an attic?” You ask Helaena, who’s already on her way to join Baela in sunbathing.

“He’d appreciate the literary reference but no, not really.” She says softly, which surprises you, and nods for you to follow him.

The gentle look she sends you sparks your curiosity too, so you adjust the shawl, put your feet into your slip-on shoes, and hurry up to the house.

You see the library doors being ajar, like the first day you arrived, but this time you knock twice to let him know that you’re already here. If he’s even inside.

He is.

Aemond’s crouching behind the wide desk. He’s so tall that you still can see the top of his silver hair poking out.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You ask and as you watch him half-hidden behind the large desk, you recall the dirty images your mind conjured of the activities taking place in the library involving him personally.

Your cheeks warm up and even more so when he straightens up and looks at you with his penetrating gaze.

Aemond props himself up with his left hand that rests on the desk surface and you try not to stare too long at it.

Suddenly, he scratches the back of his neck, with his right hand, ruffling the ends of his hair a bit, and seems to fight with himself about something.

You wait impatiently for what he’s going to say and are taken aback when he walks up to you and pulls you after him by the corner of the knot you tied with the ends of Helaena’s shawl.

There is no lying to yourself at this moment about the way this affects you.

The all too familiar warmth and tightness in the apex of your thighs says it all.

You’re fucking attracted to the quiet and self-righteous brother of the guy you thought you liked.

Maybe it’s finally the time to give in to whatever you’ve gotten yourself into recently.

After all, you said to yourself to take life in handfuls this summer.

His hand suddenly drops and for a second you think he’s going to take yours in his to continue leading you but you shake the thought from your head, not wanting to read too much into his body language.

Or your wild imagination.

“You asked about Vhagar when we were at the vineyard.” He starts and this time he doesn’t try to touch you in any way, only walks behind the desk and waits expectantly for you to join him.

You do so and your heart stops at the sight of a very old Tibetan Mastiff laying between the ends of the wooden desk.

Vhagar’s sleeping on her side, breathing slowly. You’re surprised that she didn’t wake up the moment you passed the threshold of the library.

You look up at Aemond and whether he tries to hide it or not, his violet eye is filled with a sombre sadness.

“Is she… okay?” You ask, hoping that the simplicity of the question won’t be taken in the wrong way.

When he doesn’t return your look, your head lowers and you focus only on Vhagar.

There's a few moments of silence filling the air around you and you decide to apologise for your question but then he answers with the reserved tone when he’s not insulting or judging someone.

“She hasn’t been okay for a while now.”

He purses his lips and moves his hands behind his back. You see with the corner of your eye how he digs his nails into the flesh of his palms.

“As I said back then… she’s resting now.”

Vhagar’s body jolts suddenly, probably from the dream she’s having.

“She had a surgery last year.” He finally looks at you and the intensity of his gaze makes your throat dry and your neck tense even more so now than during the rare occasions of your conversations in which you’re forced to look up at him.

“The day after Helaena’s birthday.”

Your lips part and suddenly his behaviour that night makes sense. So, you only nod, quite lost for words, and look at Vhagar again.

He didn’t have to say anything more.

You understand now why he spends so much time in the library and why he’s so adamant about not being disturbed when he’s here.

“I’ll keep on staying away.” You assure him but he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to.”

You give him a gentle smile in thanks and see him opening his mouth, only to close it again. A crease appears between his brows as they furrow slightly.

“I saw you reading Jane Austen.”

Your own eyebrows raise up and even though you noticed him looking at your book today, that laid on your bare thighs, hearing him admitting to that makes you fluster.

“Well, yeah…”

“We have first editions here.” He looks at you from the bridge of his nose and you bite the inside of your lower lip—both at the sight above you and at the exciting news.

“If you’d like to see them, of course.” He adds quickly.

“Of course, I would.”

You answer and hope he can’t hear the slight tremble that comes out with it as exhilaration boils beneath your skin, gently tightening your throat.

He nods and shows you the shelves with the first editions of all kinds of books.

You allow yourself to brush over the spines with your fingers, careful not to accidentally damage them in any way.

“Here.”

You hear him say in a low manner and as he pulls one of the volumes by the top of its spine, your fingers touch briefly, making your body jolt in place.

You should remove your hand but when he doesn’t, you only stare at the point where your fingers graze each other. You think that it’s a weird accident that both of you are touching hands once more and that he doesn’t move it right away.

Again.

Aemond pulls out the book from between those that press against it and takes your palm between his fingers, pressing it to the cover with his own.

The warmth of his skin sends shivers from the tips of your fingers to your toes and when you force yourself to look into his—so fascinating—eyes, you see a very self-assured smile stretching his lips.

“Take it.” He says as he presses his palm on yours a bit harder.

“For the time you’re here that is.”

He adds in a half-joking manner.

You narrow your eyes, deciding to joke back, if only to take your attention from the way his thumb brushes against your knuckles and from your rapidly beating heart.

“And I thought you would give it to me as a gift. Like a generous rich person should. A philanthropist, even.”

He lets out a low laugh that sounds more like a murmur and you have to swallow at the sound.

“I’m not sure if you’re enough of a good girl to receive such a priceless gift.”

Fuck.

The way he slowly stretched out these two words goes right to your core and you know that if you don’t move away from his grasp, you’ll do something that would either embarrass you or…

His fingers move to your wrist but even though they barely touch it, you still don’t feel freed from his touch. The goosebumps appearing on your bare arms are evidence enough.

And Aemond evidently sees that as he strokes your forearm with the back of his palm, up and down, down and up, creating more of them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Are you?” He whispers in your ear, not stopping his movements.

Breath catches in your throat when you feel his on your face once again.

“Am I… w-what?”

Your question will definitely sound incredibly dumb when you replay this moment in your head later but now you’re too dizzy to think about it.

Aemond chuckles lowly. Self-satisfaction ringing in the sound.

You tilt your head back slightly and find his pouty lips opened just a little bit but enough for you to get a glimpse of the tip of his tongue being stuck between his teeth.

He’s so incredibly close.

“A good girl.”

His lips form these damned words once again and a tiny gasp leaves your throat.

He drops his hand from the crook of your elbow just to pull you closer by the knot of the shawl and this time he doesn’t move away. Your parted lips, ragged breath and fluttering eyelids give him an idea that he doesn’t need to.

But before either of you make a move, several knocks to the door make you jump away from him.

Talya’s usual overly formal tone seems to shout at you in your ears.

“Dinner will be served in twenty minutes, sir.”

You breathe through your nose and rub the arm Aemond’s just caressed.

The parts of your body he’s touched today feel to you like sunburn marks.

“Thank you, Talya.” There’s no gratitude in his tone. Only irritation dripping from his tongue.

Your mind goes back to the story Helaena told you about the housekeeper and you wonder if Aemond’s also thinking about the woman’s poor timing but you’re not able to form any coherent sentences in this moment, except of mumbling something between a ‘thank you’ and ‘see you later’.

He’s leaning against the shelves with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he observes you in silence.

There's no way he didn't see your eyes dropping to his lips, as if they were a magnet pulling you in.

“Come to the tennis court tomorrow.”

You can’t work out if it’s a question or a demand. Though, it doesn’t matter because you nod and answer with a quiet “sure” before letting yourself even think about refusing him.

What rings in your head are four fateful words: Take life in handfuls.

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thewritersaddictions · 2 months

Text

COD- Simon Riley: Cowboy Casanova

Pairing: Cowboy!Simon x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader-ish

Warnings: This is based on Carrie Underwood's "Cowboy Casanova"; Smut, semipublic smut, fingering, drunkness, no feelings, pure smut, a bar scene, an over-protective man, BJ, no use of Y/n

Summary: During your time at the bar in the deep south of Texas, you manage to get the attention of a masked man, and it's all you can think about.

A/N: @ Firefly-graphics for dividers

WC: 3.2k

Call Of Duty Master List

Your hips sway to the music coming off from the speakers around you. You've been coming to this new bar since it opened and since you arrived in the new town. Everyone can tell you're new around in town, wearing the shortest shorts you can find to deal with the hot summer Texas weather. Every night, you are there, with your hair thrown up and away from your beautiful features. Some say that you are there every night in search of someone to take you home, but any time a guy or even a girl comes stalking their way over to you, you gently push them away and go back to either sipping your long neck beer or sway yourself away from them on the dance floor.

You're an enigma. Everyone around you is in complete and utter awe of you. Your sweet exterior makes you likable with nearly everyone who greets you, but the words that manage to fall from your lips when you've had enough of being flirted with are different; you're like the inverse of a sour patch or lemon head. Sweet on the outside and sour on the inside. So it's to no one's surprise when the masked man who almost always sits in the corner of the booth at the bar is caught gazing at you.

You had already caught him looking at you multiple times. The dark brim of the cowboy hat sits just above his eyes. Bright blues still manage to sparkle under the bar's shitty lighting. This time, though, you've opted for a more summer look. A spring pink dress that flows with every twist and turn on your hips as you sway to the music on the dance floor, there's a drink in your hand that sloshes back and forth, but his eyes never leave your frame. You take him back. He wants so desperately to get up, grab you by the hips, and drag you off the dance floor to the bathroom. The masked man wants to ruin you, and every time you look up from the floor or the flashes light, you get a glimpse of that feral look behind his baby blues.

As much as there is talk about you being the town sweetheart, there's talk about the masked man and the others he sits with. You can't put your tongue on it just yet, but his stares don't make you feel the same way it does when other men stare at you. The talk about the masked man is that he's scary, but you have a feeling he's everything but that once you get to know him.

Simon has been caught watching you, his other table mates calling him out for it. Price is the first one to mutter something about being distracted, but they haven't got a damn thing planned for the next few weeks. The ranch is completely cleared out due to a few races, and even if the ranch weren't, Simon would still find a way to be here, watchin' her. Sway her hips to the beat, how whatever is in her glass has her cheeks pink with just the right amount of embarrassment from her words and dance moves.

Johnny only pushes it further home when he nudges his glass into Simons: "Go and talk to the lass instead of watchin' her. You are givin' off creepy stalker vibes." The alcohol made Johnny just a little bit loosed-lipped. "Don't go encouraging him to do somethin' stupid." Price counters, but yet again, Simon isn't really listening either as he watches the beautiful girl across the bar get up from her spot and walk over to the dance floor, but then she doesn't just stop on the black and white tile.

Simon swallows hard when he sees her getting closer and closer to the table. "See, now she's coming over here." Johnny groans, "Shut it." The words come out like a bark to the younger man. "Are you planning on starin' at me, or are you gonna do something about it." You say, and the other two men are shocked at your straightforwardness. Simon wasn't at all surprised or even shocked by your words. Your voice is slick like honey and only edges him on, "What are you gonna do about it, darlin'?" Simon teases, taking a swig of his drink in front of him.

"Oh, I'll make it worth it." You say with a sweet, seductive wink. The dark-brimmed cowboy hat angles up as he finally takes a look into your pretty little features. Simon can feel the raging hard-on grow in his jeans. He's careful about his following words. "Maybe next time, darlin'." You gawk at him, feeling like an idiot for making the first step, but he wants to see if you'll push your luck or come back for just a little more attention the next time he sees you.

It’s nearly a week later when the sky is beaming with bright colors of reds, purples, and blues when you come waltzing into the bar. You’ve opted for a low-cut white summer dress and cute white flats this time. You are the brightest thing in the bar, uncaring of the dirty seat you take. Your conversation with the bartender is cut short, and you feel a pair of solid hands land on your shoulders.

They dig deep into the open flesh, letting the blunt nails dig into your flesh just a little. It’s delicious in the best sort of way. “So you came back.” The voice is so clear and close to your ear that shivers run down your spine. You swallow hard and hum. “I came back.” You can feel eyes on you but aren’t sure where they are coming from. All you can feel is the muscular chest pressed into your back. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” The cowboy mutters; a few moments later, he’s no longer pressed up behind you but sitting next to you. His large hand wrapped around a small glass of whiskey.

He starts to tease you when you haven’t managed to look up at him yet. “Oh, what happened to the confidence from last time?” He says before taking a long sip from his glass. Youre not there, sure you’re physically sitting next to the man now, but now that you are. Your brain is off making mental and physical notes of the man sitting next to you. His hand flexes around the glass, how good he smelt when pressed against you, how his voice is like honey. “Hey, sweet cheeks, you still in there?” He says, tapping the exposed skin of your thigh.

Mentally shaking yourself of the thoughts you hum. “Now let me ask you again, did you wear this little pretty number for me? Hopin’ it was gonna catch my attention?” He questions. But now he’s somehow gotten closer. His blue eyes stare into your soul, but the rest of that mask has to go. You want to see if the rest of this man matches his covered-up face.

Except you don’t; you only nod your head. The dress is as low cut as possible without being considered too exposed for the public. The longer this strange man’s attention is on you, the hotter you get and the wetter your panties grow. “I did; I thought you’d wanna see what you missed last time.” You say you are trying your best to be a tease yet still get what you want. Which, at this point, is his hands back on you.

That's how you manage to be pressed into the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom with your dress flipped up against your back and your panties pooled at your feet. Simon, that’s his name, the mystery cowboy. He had said it when he pushed you into the bathroom door and locked it behind you. “Oh, Simon!” You moaned as his fingers played at the entrance of your soaking pussy. “Look at this mess you’re making’. How am I gonna fix this, honey?” It’s not a question; even if Simon wanted you to answer it, you weren’t given the time.

Not when Simon’s largest fingers finally pushed into your tight hole. Your breasts are pushed into the sink, and your moans echo off the walls. You should feel bad nobody can get into the bathroom, but the moans that fall and the way Simon’s fingers feel right now make you care about nothing. All you want is more. More of the tightness. More of the grip that his other hand had on your body.

Typically, you’d be so against how Simon makes you feel. You’d never let some big old man touch you the way he is. You’d never let someone lock you in a bathroom and have them dig their meaty hands into your flesh. There is just something about Simon; maybe it’s the bright blue eyes against the dark mask that covers his features, how good he smells, or maybe it’s just simply how big the man is compared to you.

You’re so lost in your train of thought that you don’t hear Simon talking to you. It’s not until the pump of his thick fingers leaves the wet hole that you groan out at the loss of his touch. “There you are, where’d you just go?” He asks, rubbing his thumb over the cold flesh of your hip. You groan as you desperately try to get his touch back, “No,” He barks, backing up completely while crossing his arms; you can barely see him in the mirror's reflection. “Please don’t stop touching me.” You whine as you shake your ass, trying to entice him. You can see him sigh heavily as if trying to stop himself. There are a few more moments of pause between the two of you, and then he’s back behind you, his hands back on your skin, but most importantly, his fingers back in your cunt.

Your eyes roll back, and before you know it. Simons has reached a part of you that no other partner has ever come close to. “Oh!!” Your moans are bounced off the tiled walls and floors. Simons seems to have noticed the change, “Oh, did I find something that makes you feel good, sweet girl?” His remark is teasing at best, but you don’t care. Not when his thrust becomes even more brutal and with more precision, he never misses his mark. With that, you tighten around his fingers, and when you come, your weight finally hits the sink, and your knuckles go from white back to your skin color.

You sit there with his fingers still gently, now pumping in and out of your wet cunt. Your chest heaves as you try to regain dignity, and everything crawls back into your brain. You just let some random person that you’ve only ever met once another time finger you in the bathroom of a dirty fucking bar. When you regain your breath, your eyes finally flutter back open. You’re moving quickly, trying to get yourself back together and putting your panties back up your thighs and settling them on your hips before you are flattening out your mess of hair. You don’t notice the strong, taller man staring into your soul until you look in the mirror. “I… I’m just gonna head out now.” Your voice was timid as you walked towards the bathroom door.

Simon doesn’t stop or even follow you as you unlock the door and walk towards the loud sounds of songs and dancing feet. As you walk out, you feel the eyes of everyone on you, but it’s not the reality. It’s just the table that Simon was sitting at. The eyes are all in shock that Simon isn’t behind you; it’s not hard to read your expression because you shit at covering them up half the time.

Your cheeks are red with embarrassment, and you’re scanning the bar, looking for people to stare right back at you. You’re nervously picking at your fingernails, and out the door, you’re walking- far from the prying eyes of everyone at the bar. You’ve just reached your car when you feel a large hand wrap around your bicep—dragging you into his chest. “You know it’s not very nice to walk away from someone like that,” Simons says into your ear.

“I… im sorry, I’m just not. I normally don’t do stuff like that.” All of a sudden, you’re frozen with embarrassment and shock. Your everyday confidence is draining quickly from your face. “Well, that’s okay, sweetheart, because I do.” Simon’s words cause you to nearly choke on your breath, eyes bugging and going wide. You look up at the tall man, now outside, where the only light you get is from the street lamps near the road. He’s an even darker looker, more mysterious than before, and it sends a wave of shivers down your spine in a way you’ve never felt before.

You don’t notice til your back hits the back of your car that Simon has been pushing you further into the darkness of the night. You gasp when your back hits the cold car body, and a devilish smirk grows on Simon’s face. “Now be a good girl, and finish the job you started.” You swallow, not truly understanding what the man in front of you is saying. “I…” “Don’t get all flustered now, sweetheart; get on your knees and finish the job you started. I don’t like slackers.” His voice is booming and grave in the night air.

For some reason, maybe it’s just because of how Simon looks at you. You drop to your knees with ease. Knees are pressing into the hard rock parking spot. You swallow hard when your knees settle into the rocks and look up at the strong man. “Go on, sweetheart, take my cock out.” His words send shivers down your spine and make you feel so dirty, but in a way that makes you want more praise. Your hands are slow as they graze up the jean-covered thighs. The cold metal of the zipper hits your fingers, but that’s not what causes you to gasp. It's the hard length under the clad jeans. “Don’t act so surprised.” Simons says as he glides his large hand through your hair, tugging softly. “You can continue now.” He murmurs as your roll the zipper down, his jeans don’t fall instead they stay perfectly on his hips. But you can tell from the sigh he’s let out that the bulge in his pants is free from some of the tight restraints. “You’re so big.” Your murmurs under your breath as your delicate fingers graze over the black boxers. “Hmm…” He hums at your touch, and only a few moments pass before you have to drag the blue jean material down his thighs, and they land in a pool at his boot-covered feet.

“Take my cock, baby.” He nearly whimpers as you rub a hand over his boxers. Precum leaking from his tip causes the already dark material to grow darker. You are quick to listen to his directions as you pull his cock from the confines of his boxers. It springs to attention and hits the bottom of Simon's shirt. You swallow hard again, “You…” Your words get caught in the back of your throat as your eyes drift up to the man. He’s smirking, but you can tell there’s something else behind his eyes.

Your hand barely makes it around the girth of his cock, and it seems to please him when you have to shift on your knees to get a better position. You use the slick precum as lube to jerk his cock a few times before you feel his hand push your head closer to his cock. “Be a good girl and suck my cock.” He demands your lips fall around the head with ease, and you have to regain your breath of his cock wit as Simon gives you no time to take the stretch of his cock in your mouth. Within seconds your gagging on his cock, tears brimming at the bottom of your lashes. All the sounds around you dissipate; the only thing you hear is the huffs and puffs of the man before you. His hand in your hair is still there, gradually pulling you up and down his shaft. He moans loudly when you grab his balls and massage them sweetly. “Yeah, sweetheart, keep doin’ that for me.” He murmurs as his other lands on your car. He was pushing you back a little until all that is around is him. His scent is forever stuck in your brain, and your head hits the side of your car.

His thrusts from there are dramatic. Fast, and it’s as if he’s lost all control. You barely get a minute to breathe before Simon is using and abusing your throat for his own. His moans and groans filter through the air, and even though the tears in your eyes are trailing down your face, you can’t help but want more. So you suck him in even further, allowing your cheeks and his voice to fall flat. “Oh fuck…” “GodDamn…” Most of what you catch is just curses, but you don’t care. You want to feel his cum down your throat, and you moan around his cock. “Just like this sweetheart…” With another suck of his cock, and fondling of his ball Simon grunts as he cums down your throat without warning. You take it all, though, letting it fill your sense and swallowing when Simons drags his cock from your mouth. You look up at him and catch his rabid gaze.

His callused thumb comes down to your lip and rubs his cum into your lips. “There now, if another guy kisses you, he’ll be tastin’ me, darlin'.” He says with a wink. You two stay like this for only a short time, and then Simon puts himself back into his boxers and pulls up the thick jeans. He puts out a hand and helps you up to your feet. “Look at that, you dirted up your pretty white dress.” He says as you pat down the dress's fabric. “It’s okay.” You murmur in the darkness. He smirks. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you.” It’s not a question, so you don’t respond. Your actions have already exposed you. “Here.” The gruff voice says in the silence, his phone is pushed into your hand, “What do you…” “Your number, love, so we can continue whatever the fuck this is.” He says with a wink, and you quickly write down your name and phone number in the contact.

“Where have you been?” Price asks as Simon returns to the table. There's something different about him, and apparently, it’s only Price who can tell. “I know what was goin’ on!” Soap says, sounding very proud of himself. “You got that pretty little lass to suck your dick, didn’t you?” There’s nothing but a smirk on Simons's face, giving him away entirely, but he doesn’t care. “I’m not your dad, so do whatever you wanna do.” Price huffs out before swallowing down the rest of his drink. You walk back in, and the limp in your walk and your slightly dirty dress are all the evidence the rest of the table needs to know what happened outside.

Completed on: 01/30/24

Posted on: 02/10/24

COD-

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