avid fic reader

You hummed happily around his length, letting the vibrations run down his shaft which made him gasp slightly and grip the bedsheet tighter.

“F-fuck, you’re... you’re really good at this,” he moaned, “it feels really good...  I’m gonna come.”

Another hum, hopefully one that he interpreted as approval, echoed around him before you swallowed him down to the base, doing your best not to gag too much as he whimpered and held your neck tight.

“Ohhhh my god,” he sighed, starting to move his hips a bit to thrust up into your mouth, “baby, please don’t stop...”

You moved to a more reliable pattern of sucking the tip and bobbing your head as both your hands stroked the rest-- yes, both, Peter Parker was so unexpectedly hung compared to his slender frame-- as you felt him begin to flex in your grip.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I-I’m coming!” he gasped, and just as his come began to coat your tongue, the door swung open.

“Are you okay?!” Ned gasped, and both of you looked at him, and he looked at Peter, and then you... and then Peter again...

And slowly backed out of the room and shut the door.

You swallowed what was in your mouth and pulled off of Peter’s softening length, trying not to laugh as you looked up at him.  His cheeks were bright red at this point, and you weren’t sure how much of it was from Ned’s interruption or from what Ned had actually been interrupting.

“I look forward to him not looking me in the eye for a month,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m expecting a similar treatment,” Peter admitted.

“Hey, he got a free show,” you shrugged.

“Let’s just go to your place next time,” Peter decided.

“There’s already gonna be a next time?” you smirked, glad to hear this wasn’t just gonna be a one-time hookup.

You show up when he texts, he fucks you, you leave.  That’s… it.  No pillow talk, no dates, hardly any acknowledgement of your existence before or after; ‘fuckbuddies’ isn’t even the right word because at least they’re ostensibly ‘buddies.’  

You honestly didn’t even know each other.  You met once at a party, and it all followed from there.  You had no relationship, you were nothing to each other… nothing with benefits.  There, that’s the best effort you could make in trying to ‘define’ it, if that counts.

A lot of things went unsaid, but you knew more than you let on.  For instance, whenever he blew you off or kicked you out after he made some excuse about ‘needing to work.’  You never asked about his work but you’d deduced it was something incredibly atypical— probably illegal.  He said once he didn’t have time for anything ‘real’ because of it, and you decided not to be offended by the implication that you were, what, fictional?  But you knew what he meant, of course.  Whatever this work was, it seemed to take a toll.  He’d told you not to ask about his bruises and cuts, no matter how bad they looked; they never seemed to bother him that much, actually, even when they looked… very bothersome.

Another thing you figured out was that he was in love.  Not with you, obviously, Jesus— but he loved someone.  Of course you had a lot less concrete evidence for that, it was just a vibe you got… but you could see it on his face sometimes, in his eyes.  That heartbroken look, and more importantly the brave face trying to cover it up: you recognized it because you’d felt it a thousand times yourself.  He probably assumed you weren’t a particularly emotional person considering your openness to such a cold arrangement, but who knows?  Sometimes you felt like he knew more than he let on, too.

But it all was left unspoken, unaddressed, undefined.  Like I said, it was better that way.

“Peter, fuck,” you choked out as he held tighter onto your hips, thrusting harder, faster, deeper all at once.

“Shh, I’m close,” he hissed; he liked you better silent when he came, but you had to bite your lip hard to try not to make too much noise.  Actually, you had to grab hard onto his headboard just to keep yourself steady, your eyes rolling back far enough in your head that you could almost see how empty your brain was at that moment.

How could you think about anything right now, when he was slamming right into that spot that seemed to reset your entire system? 

He was pretty quiet himself, sometimes you couldn’t even really get much of a reaction from him; though you occasionally dared to look back over your shoulder to get a glimpse of him with his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes fallen shut, a loose curl sticking to his face from the thin layer of sweat on his skin…

It was only because you were trying your best to be quiet now that you could hear him, the suppressed grunt through his teeth as he finished; he thrusted just once more, sharply, before relaxing slightly with a heavy exhale through his nose.

It was a good thing he couldn’t see your face like this, or he’d probably notice how much even that little noise from him exhilarated you.  Maybe he wouldn’t care, honestly.

When he pulled out, he quickly grabbed his shirt to catch the come that spilled out of you.  Most of it stayed inside until you fell limply down onto the bed— then you felt it all start to leak out, comfortingly warm but annoyingly sticky.

You could’ve stood to lay there for much longer to enjoy the slight numb feeling, but you decided you’d better get to the bathroom quickly.  You didn’t say anything as you ungracefully hopped up and held the shirt between your legs on your way to the toilet.

After cleaning up as best as you reasonably could in the stereotypically bare-bones bathroom of a single twenty-something guy, you cupped your hands in the sink to drink from them for a moment.  Peter wasn’t necessarily cruel, moreso just neutral, but he wasn’t enough of a gentleman to consistently offer you a cup of water after.

When you emerged from the bathroom, he’d put his underwear back on but was still on the bed; this was notable since he was often already working on something when you returned, at which point he would tell you to let yourself out.  But no, this time he was on the bed, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a glassy kind of look in his eyes.

You figured he would notice you and say something, but you watched him for a little while and he never did.  It was kind of a nice moment, but you had to break the silence.  “Tell me about her,” you requested, apparently feeling a bit more brave than usual.

He sat up slightly to look at you; it looked like it took him a moment to realize what you’d said, and he transitioned from a shocked expression to a dismissive laugh.  “What?” he pretended not to know what you meant.

“Did you think I couldn’t tell?” you smiled back.  “Seriously, I’m curious.”

“No,” he shook his head, laying down all the way again, “I… shouldn’t talk about that, with you.”

You shrugged a bit as you grabbed your shorts off the ground and slid them back on.  (Yes, you’d skipped underwear when getting dressed, you knew why you were coming here.)  “Why not?” you wondered.

A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he seemed like the answer was too obvious to verbalize, and you turned your shirt right-side-out before putting it on again.  “Isn’t that, like… bad form?” he laughed, just a little.

This was the most you’d talked since you met him.  It made your heartbeat speed up again, after only getting a moment of rest.  “I don’t care,” you assured.  “I mean— I do, I wanna know… I just mean I won’t be offended.”

He sighed a little and you thought he was just going to ignore you at first; the silence went on just a little too long to feel natural, but you let it ride.  “She doesn’t know I exist,” he finally answered, speaking softly.

You smirked a bit, not sure if that was believable.  “Don’t sell yourself short,” you encouraged, “I’m sure she—”

“No, literally,” he insisted.  You still didn’t quite buy it but you decided to accept it if he was so sure.

Your eyes drifted over his body as he exhaled slowly, reaching up to rest his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling like he was remembering something.  You figured if he took his shirt off in front of this girl she’d notice him; he was… hard to ignore, when he wasn’t covering himself with baggy clothes like he seemed to normally.

Not that he spent all too long in clothes when you came over, but still.

“Good luck with that,” you broke the silence, and he seemed to come out of a daze; he’d already forgotten you were there, maybe.  “Just text me when you’re free again?”

He watched you get off the bed and go towards the door where you’d left your shoes.  “Y-yeah, sure,” he agreed— he sat up quickly, like maybe it was rude to just lay there while you left, but that was a bit out of character since you could remember plenty of times he hadn’t even looked at you…

Regardless, you left rather unceremoniously, feeling satisfied and yet already wondering how long it would be until you heard from him again.

The answer was, it turns out, longer than usual.  Long enough that you felt a little weird about it but tried not to notice it; long enough that, when he did text you, you were much more relieved than you wanted to be.

Come over.  A little abrupt after two weeks without any contact, but you weren’t too proud.  You slipped on some sandals and headed for the subway; you probably should’ve taken the time to grab a light jacket, you hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten since the sun went down, but the buzzy energy that filled you as you prepared to see him again kept you warm enough.

So, it was a bit of a let down when he seemed confused as he answered the door; “Um, hey?” you greeted hesitantly, wondering why he was staring at you and not just letting you in.

“Did I… text you?” he wondered.

“Uh… yeah?” you responded now with a confused look of your own.  “Are you drunk?”

“No, I— sorry,” he sighed a little, “that was a mistake, I— now’s not a good time.”

You swallowed, trying not to take it personally— trying not to imagine why he changed his mind.  He was shirtless already, did he have someone else coming over, was she already there?  Oh, you really didn’t want to know— so why were you leaning to try to see past him into the apartment?

He shifted to try to block your view, leaning on the doorway, but you caught a glimpse— no girl that you could see, but the place looked like it had been turned upside down.  Your fear shifted to concern.  

“What happened, is everything okay?” you asked quickly.  “Did you get robbed?”

You slipped in past him, and he stammered out a protest that he never really finished.

“Oh my god, Peter—” you began, but he turned you around to look at him.

“You need to go,” he insisted again, “I’m sorry, I— I’m really not trying to be a dick.”

You snorted a little, not really meaning to, and he exhaled.

“Okay, I know I’m already kind of a dick to you, but I’m… not myself right now.”

“If you’re normally a dick to me, and you’re not yourself right now, then isn’t that a good thing?” you mused, but Peter just shook his head in confusion.

“What?” he panted, but it definitely just wasn’t a confused look anymore— he reached up and put a hand to his head, his palm pressing above his eye and his fingers starting to curl tightly.

“A-are you okay?” you asked, all the playfulness lost from your tone. 

He winced and bent over suddenly, grabbing his head tightly, making you look at him with wide eyes.  

“Peter?” you continued, trying to lean down with him, but he reached up and pushed you back slightly.

“M’fine,” he choked out, but the whine of pain through his teeth seemed to prove him wrong.

You weren’t sure how to help, you couldn’t tell at all what was wrong, but you couldn’t just leave him like this even if he seemed to want you to.  “How can I help?” you pleaded.

“You can’t help me!” he insisted.

He straightened up again, throwing his head back for a moment, the agony on his face perfectly visible now.  His hands moved to cover his ears, his eyes shut tightly— maybe it was a migraine or something?  You looked around for a lightswitch, hoping turning off anything too bright might make it better, but the second you tried to step away, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into him; you yelped a little and hurried to hold onto his shoulders, nearly losing your balance as he yanked you forward.  

It seemed like he had changed his mind very suddenly about you being able to help him— and had a very different idea of how you could help than you’d originally imagined.  His eyes were scanning your face, his nostrils flaring as they fell on your lips.  You opened your mouth slightly just before he covered it in a rough, punishing kiss.

You couldn’t even remember the last time he kissed you— but he definitely never kissed you like this.  It was hard and fast and dominating, his head forcing yours to tilt back, his tongue handily overpowering yours.

His hand wrapped around your neck and your knees wobbled for a second; fuck, if this was Peter not being himself, then you were starting to like this guy better.

He made quick work of your clothes, too quick actually, you were pretty sure you heard something ripping but you didn’t care at all.  His hands grabbed you anywhere and everywhere they could reach, rough and eager until they all but shoved you onto the bed.  You gasped but went along with it, you weren’t sure what was going on with him but you’d never questioned him before— you just gave him what he wanted.  Even if you knew better than to take it personally, the way he was acting now… could he really want you this badly?

You tried to turn around to get on your hands and knees like usual, but he roughly turned you back to face him; he climbed over you and shed himself quickly of his sweats and underwear— god, when did he get that hard?

His hand pushed your thighs further apart, making you shudder a little just before he shoved his cock into you— all at once, no warning, making you choke on your own breath.  

You couldn’t try to complain that you weren’t ready for it, even if you wanted to, because you were already plenty wet enough despite it all happening so suddenly.  Maybe his new attitude just had that effect on you, maybe you’d been building anticipation since you got on the subway to meet him here; and, both could be true at once.

“Peter,” you whined as he filled you, back arching off the bed, but he pushed you back down at the hips to make sure you took it all.

He laid himself down over you, keeping his face close to yours as he thrusted fast but deep, holding you tight enough to make sure you couldn’t rock too far away and would be forced to take every inch.

You felt your face tighten up— actually, all of you, not just your face— in response to him going just a little too far, pushing on something a little too sensitive; you whined, some pain tinting the noise, but he only made sure to press his hips against you even more.

You groaned deeply, feeling pleasure grow from the intensity, though it still had a sharpness to it.

Overwhelmed by… everything, you tried to close your eyes just to focus on the feeling; “Look at me,” he demanded instantly, catching you off guard.  You obeyed, of course, meeting his stare as he requested, though you definitely couldn’t match his intensity.

He grabbed your hips and tilted them up towards him slightly, forcing his cock to press against something that made you shake and grab the sheets under you.  “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, noticing the way he flexed his jaw as he watched you.

You weren’t proud of how quickly he was getting you there; but was there any room for pride in a situation like this?  It’s not like you’d had much in the first place, when you were just coming over for quick thoughtless fucks, but at least then you didn’t say much or look at each other much and you could go through it all without acknowledging much of anything.  Now he was staring right at you, watching your body respond to him so quickly, purposefully making you so desperate for him.

He let go of your hips to slide his hands up the back of your thighs, hooking them under your knees and pushing your legs up towards your chest.  “God, yes,” you breathed, struggling to stop your eyes from rolling back.  You watched him, too: the way his mouth fell slack to let his panting breaths through, his chest rising and falling, his muscles rippling as he fucked into you…

You heard the smallest chuckle and looked back at his face to see a smirk there; apparently he caught you gawking.  Surely he knew already that he had a great body, so he couldn’t be surprised, right?  He’d never seemed to really care that you were attracted to him, or take it as much of a compliment.

But now it made him fuck you harder, which made you whimper and shudder as you clutched handfuls of the sheets under you.  

One hand let go of your leg to rest above where he was moving in you: at the same time, it pushed down right where the tip of him reached inside you, and his thumb circled over your clit.

The added pressure amped everything up and even the slightest touch on your bud made you realize how sensitive you’d become.  You bit down on your lip to try to stop yourself from praising him endlessly— you didn’t need him getting an even bigger ego.  But even still his effect on you was obvious, the way you were succumbing to the pleasure was obvious, though you still felt the need to announce it.

“I-I’m gonna come,” you warned, and he kept his movements and pace exact, eagerly pushing you closer to the edge.

It built up faster with each thrust, his fingers digging in harder under your knee, and you let your head fall limply to the side as it grew and grew within you.

One hand came down and took a tight grip of your face to turn it back up towards him.

“Look at me,” he reminded you, and you swallowed around a gasp but nodded quickly.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “fuck, I— ohh fuck yes—”

He watched you with darkened eyes as it hit you, a heady wave of pleasure that started from somewhere deep within but rippled all over you.  As the feeling peaked and subsided, he kept his grip on your face— not too tight, but far too strong to break away from.

The second you started to relax back into the bed, he pulled out and flipped you over— far too easily— onto your knees.  He was inside you again before you could even find your balance.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, falling forward and barely catching yourself on the headboard in time.  He was thrusting again, fast and hard, like he hadn’t stopped at all; you were still sensitive from the orgasm you’d barely even completed, and the different angle of his penetration into you was even more intense now.  “Fuck, Peter, you—”

He grunted lowly, and you didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence as you moaned desperately.

“Oh my god,” you managed to pant out even as you were getting more and more lost in it— he had never been the gentle type per se but he had always been… restrained, patient.  You never could’ve imagined this kind of brutality, or how perfect it would feel.

You also weren’t used to him being so vocal, and you heard a stream of moans and purrs from behind you that were, for lack of a better word, beautiful.  Filthy and animalistic, yes, but beautiful nonetheless.

“So good,” you couldn’t stop yourself from panting out; your first orgasm had left you so… exposed, every sensation heightened, every touch more electrifying.  Now it was building up again, even faster than before, turning you just as desperate and needy as he sounded.

The curve of him inside you was too perfect, the thick stretch was almost too wide— when he pushed all the way in and buried himself to the hilt you actually felt a little sting— his heavy balls hitting your clit made you feel delightfully whorish; pleasure was coming at you from every angle, overwhelming you, washing all the thoughts out of your head and turning your body into his plaything (if it wasn’t already).

The difference really was that before, you had some autonomy about the whole thing— it wasn’t quite an equal partnership, since he was the one who called for you and you were the one who showed up right away nearly every single time.  But it was at least a mutual dynamic: you were a slut and he was using you like one, simple as that.  

Now, those things may have still been true but it had become so much more.  Now, you were totally at his mercy.  Now, he was asserting a previously-unspoken dominance and proving that he owned you completely… and that you loved it.  It may not have been a particularly empowering feeling, but knowing he could do absolutely anything to you in that moment was fucking addictive.  

“I’m coming,” you blurted out, not even really believing it yourself, “I’m coming again, oh shit—”

You moaned pathetically— well, more specifically, you went silent for a moment as you came too hard to remember to breathe, then you moaned pathetically; but then you started to laugh a little, thinking he would slow down to a stop, give you a little break so you could mumble something about how incredible he was before he used you to finish.

But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, didn’t give you even a second to breathe as you tried to pull yourself together.  Even when you passed the height of your pleasure into something much more raw and unfathomable, he didn’t falter for a moment.  Your walls tightened repeatedly until they ached, until you whined through your teeth at the soreness of the muscles inside you.

“Peter,” you gasped, “s-slow down…”

He ignored you.

“Stop,” you blurted out; again, he ignored you.  “Peter, stop!  I can’t—!”

A hand wrapped around your throat and your words dropped instantly to silence.  Wide-eyed, you clawed at his hand to try to peel it away, but obviously that didn’t work.  

Your hands fell limply to the sheets— he was holding you up by your neck now, and he wasn’t even breaking a sweat— and they tried to grab hold of something, anything, without much success.

The pleasure he forced on you was excruciating and overwhelming, and totally inevitable.  You tried to force yourself to relax, wondering if that would make it any easier to take all this, but you couldn’t anyways as shocks ran all through your body.  Your toes curled, your legs began to shake uncontrollably— you were saying his name, begging for mercy, but hardly any sound was coming out since you weren’t taking in any air.

You reached back to try to grab his hand, push his hips, anything to slow down this onslaught of sensation; he ignored it at first, before growling a little as he grabbed your hand and pinned it down to the bed.

He was iron, absolute— you could literally fight him with all your strength and he wouldn’t move an inch.  The helplessness made you panic and squirm uselessly, and yet the racing of your heart was more than just fear, even as your vision was getting spotty from how long he’d been choking you.  Fuck, it was good; it hurt like hell, you didn’t think you could take it, but it was fucking good.

The hand on your throat let go to force your head down into the mattress: so, yes, the sound you let out after all that silence was muffled, but still so embarrassingly loud.  A desperate, broken, sobbing scream.  “Oh my god, oh my god,” you heard yourself repeat, though you could hardly recognize your voice at this point.

He slowed down a little, not nearly enough to give you a true reprieve, as he laid over you— you felt his chest press against your back, and he pulled your head up by your hair to lift you out from where you’d buried yourself in the mattress.  “Let me hear it,” he encouraged, as if the whole building wasn’t hearing you even with your face in the sheets.

He bit down hard on your neck until you basically screamed— you’d be surprised if it didn’t break the skin, the way it stung so sharply, but somehow that ache and burn seemed to blend into everything else a moment later.  Chills ran over your skin— pleasure, pain, ecstasy, agony, you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

His tongue and lips toyed with the spot he’d just marked, before his teeth moved higher to your neck to make another impression in your skin.  You felt a hot tear run down your cheek as a bit of numbness radiated from your shoulder in the shape of his bite.

Apparently satisfied with his work, you felt his breath against your ear as he groaned proudly.  “You belong to me,” he informed you roughly; you sobbed but nodded eagerly.

“Yes, yes,” you chanted, though you never wanted to acknowledge it before— you still didn’t, knowing you were his but he wasn’t yours, but you were helpless to him now.

“Mine,” he insisted again.

“Peter, please,” you whimpered, this time not begging for him to physically stop but for him not to make you admit it anymore.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you breathed, dropping your head down in defeat as tears fell onto the dishevelled sheets below.  “I’m yours, Peter, yours—”

“Gonna fill you,” he promised roughly.  “Gonna breed you.”

“O-oh god,” you choked out weakly.  “Oh my fucking god—”

“If you beg for it,” he added— oh, of course it couldn’t be so simple.

“Please,” you spat out instantly, you probably would’ve said it anyway, you just had to add the next part; you swallowed thickly, fighting the part of your brain that still experienced shame to get the words out.  “Please… breed me.”

He growled proudly, speeding up his thrusts yet again as you cried helplessly.  “More,” he ordered.

“Please!” you screamed, convinced now that at any moment you might just combust from the sheer intensity of all these sensations in your body.  

Right at the moment that you were sure you truly couldn’t take anymore, that it would build beyond what you were able to withstand, he pulled you back onto him and moaned loudly.  He stopped moving, but it didn’t bring as much relief as you would’ve expected; yes, you were able to relax slightly and actually breathe for a second, but you could feel him… pulsing.  

You started to feel a pressure that only soothed when you felt come start to leak from where you were joined— was he actually coming that much?  You shuddered as the thick drop ran down your thigh which, yes, was still shaking.

You heard a long, satisfied sigh behind you, his fingers digging a little too deep into your sides, but it seemed he was finally finished.

This would be the part where you get up and go to the bathroom— you know, if your legs were working— but instead he grabbed you tightly and fell onto the bed, pulling you down with him.  He hummed as he nuzzled into your neck, forcing you to be his little spoon as he seemed to want to keep you as close as humanly possible.  He hadn’t even pulled out, excess come leaking out as he softened a bit, but it gave you no chance to recover from the soreness as he kept you stretched out.

You couldn’t decide if this was more or less weird than everything else that had just happened.

He fell asleep behind you within a couple minutes, you could tell by the way his breathing slowed; you felt exhausted and wired at the same time, your body totally drained but your brain cycling through a thousand thoughts a second.

But even if you couldn’t sleep, there was no way you were getting up— whenever you dared to shift even an inch, his grip on you tightened even in his sleep.

Actually, you did eventually fall asleep, and he did eventually let go of you and pull out of you— but you couldn’t know exactly when any of those had happened, in fact you didn’t even realize they did until he started to wake you up.  

He did so somewhat abruptly; you heard his voice and started to blink a few times to try to come back to reality.

“Are you okay?” he rushed, looking over your body, moving you around a bit to check everywhere for injuries.  “I hurt you, oh my god, I— I’m so sorry—”

You were still struggling to wake up— you definitely hadn’t slept this hard in years, if ever— and you groggily hummed as he fussed over you.  “Peter,” you mumbled, noticing the bright sun of late dawn coming in from the window, and he held your face for a second before gently brushing his fingers along your neck, your shoulder…

“Oh my god,” he gasped, “what did I do to you?”

There must have been bruises and bites all over you, that was no surprise— so why was he acting surprised?  “It’s okay,” you breathed, “seriously, I’m okay—”

“I wasn’t— I swear that wasn’t…” he interrupted himself before trailing off.  “I lost control.”

That explanation was… cryptic.  Slightly disturbing.  And, annoyingly, a little bit hot.  “I’m fine,” you promised.

“You wanted me to stop,” he seemed to remember suddenly.  “You asked me to stop, and I—”

“Peter,” you rested a hand on his shoulder to try to soothe him— it did seem to slow down his spiraling, at least, and he looked at your face again.  If you didn’t know any better you’d say his eyes were watering.  “It’s fine. I wanted it. I just… didn’t know that I did.”

“That sounds kinda fucked up,” he noticed.

“Well, yeah,” you laughed thinly, “this whole thing is fucked up.  Just don’t worry about it, okay?  Yeah, I got a little… overwhelmed, at one point, but um… I didn’t mind it.  In the end.”

He nodded a little, clearly not totally at peace with it but at least seeming to let it go.  “Okay,” he sighed.

“Is… everything okay with you?” you asked nervously; you hadn’t planned to make a habit out of asking him personal questions, but you figured you earned that one.

“Uh… I’m not sure,” he admitted.

“Is this like, a split personality thing?” you wondered, mostly kidding— he laughed a little, thankfully.

“Well,” he relented, “I mean— no, but, maybe a little bit.”

You raised an eyebrow but decided to just nod.  “I… guess if there’s anything I can do…” you began to offer.

“You’ve, uh, done enough already,” he assured as you sat up a bit on the bed.  “I know this kind of isn’t our thing, but I feel like the least I could do is buy you breakfast.”

“Oh!  That’s, um— don’t worry about it,” you shook your head.  “I should head back to my place, actually.”

“N-no, come on, stay,” he pleaded.  This man was just full of surprises, apparently.  “Not long, I mean, if you don’t want to, but… you definitely need a little more time to heal after that.”

He gently guided your legs apart, chest deflating as he looked between them.

“Yeah, you, uh… definitely need time to heal,” he added, but his voice sounded rougher and breathless.

“What— what is it?” you asked worriedly, pushing your legs back together— you felt much too self-conscious now for him to just openly gawk at your pussy like that.

“No, it’s fine, it’s just, uh,” he started nervously, “it’s kinda, you know… I can still kinda see how much I, um, stretched you…”

You swallowed a little, noticing a flush on his face.

“I mean, I’m sure it’ll, like, go back, but uh—”

“Well, you did stay inside for like, a while,” you added, laughing slightly.  “Fuck, um… yeah, that was different.”

“Good different?” he wondered.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, “it was a lot, but, yeah, definitely.  I mean, if you ever need to lose control like that again, just let me know.”

He seemed a little surprised, his eyes drifting over the marks he’d left on you again.  “You’re sure you can take it?” 

It isn't so easy having money. It fixed one problem but sparked others. The banknotes buy more than a night; they afford your dignity and each pence is another dint in your soul.

As you turn the corner, a whistle bristles behind your neck. A shadow snarls from against the grey brick, “nice skirt, lassie. Bet it looks better up high.”

You shudder and hug the box of your groceries tighter. A sole scuffs and drags as stale tobacco clouds from behind you. You don’t dare look back as you sense the stranger following you.

“Hey, kitty,” he slurs. “Why ain’t ya slow d–”

The man coughs and chokes loudly. You gasp and spin around at the blur of motion behind you. Rigid shoulders block your sight of the man now splayed on the cobbles.

Thomas Shelby steps on the littered cigarette still smoking and twists his foot to blot it out entirely. You stare at his back, paralysed by his sudden appearance. It’s only the second week of the month. He was only around days ago. A visit you still feel in your thighs.

The man sputters from the ground as Tommy kicks his leg. “Get up and go before you can’t.”

The stranger struggles to turn over onto his knees. He crawls away before getting his feet under him and wobbling up to half his height. He hacks and grumbles as he flees in a hunch.

Tommy turns to you as he reaches under his jacket. The butt of his gun sticks out from his holster as he slides free his cigarette case. He pulls a stick free and offers it to you. You shake your head and he puts it between his lips instead.

“Sweetheart,” he snaps the case shut and puts it under his jacket. “What’re ya out here wanderin’ for?”

You look down at your groceries. He flicks his lighter to spark the tip of the cigarette. He plumes out smoke as he slides the lighter away. He steps closer and puts his hands on the box.

“Y’alright?” He asks.

You nod dumbly. “Sir–”

“Ah, come on then, we know each other better’n that,” he growls around his cigarette as it dangles between his lips. He takes the groceries and gestures you ahead with a tilt of his chin.

You turn and walk along with him puffing tobacco at your side. You’re jittery. Not only from that man but from the one beside you; outwardly helping you though you know his intentions better than that. Why tonight? Why so early?

As you get to your building, you pull out your keys. He waits patiently. You open the door and pause. “Mr. Shelby, you don’t gotta do all that–” You reach for the box.

“Wasn’t calling me Mr. Shelby last week,” he clings to the groceries.

“I… do you want the money back–”

He scoffs and curls one arm around the box. He pulls the cigarette away and blows out a long stream of smoke. “You know what I want.”

You swallow. “It’s…”

“Early, eh?” He reads your mind. “Is it, then? You tell me when I come ‘n go now?”

“No, sir. Tommy,” you stutter. “I’m only… I didn’t have time to ready–”

“Look ready ‘nough for me.” He tosses the cigarette and reaches over you. He grabs the door. “In, now.” His voice dips even lower. “When we get to your place, don’t say a word.”

You turn your eyes downward and spin away. You march inside and he follows. He’s like a shadow on your heels. You climb the stairs and his hand creeps up the back of your dress. You hiccup in surprise as he gropes your rear and growls.

“Skirt is nice…” he drawls. “Fuck.”

You get to your floor and guide him down to your door. He snatches the keys from you and unlocks the door himself. He pushes the door inward and points. You enter and take off your jacket. You hang it as he goes to the kitchen and puts down the box.

You unbutton your blouse as he treads around. He rubs his lower lip as he paces, eyeing the couch and the empty tea cup beside it. He looks at you and hums.

“Looks like you been eatin’ better, eh?” He says.

“Yes, s– Tommy. I… Thank you, I’ve been shopping more.” You utter awkwardly as you reveal your camisole. His eyes fall down to your sharp nipples poking through the cotton.

“Have ya? Should but some satin…” he growls as he pushes his coat back and grips his hips.

“I… I buy what I need.”

“I’m tryna give ya what you want.” He insists.

He sighs and turns. He walks across the room to the writing desk. He pulls out the drawer and unholsters his gun. He puts it inside and closes it. He locks it with the key he keeps on him. It’s his habit, as if he thinks you could ever pull a trigger.

Next, he removes his hat, the key hidden in the trim with the blades he carries at all times. He hangs his overcoat on the chair and faces you. He remains in his full suit as you unbutton the back of your skirt. You slip free and stand in your camisole, bloomers, and stockings.

“You look fed,” he says as he nears, lips curling. He stares at your chest. “They look… fuller.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” You shrug.

“Mm, come ‘ere,” he stands beside the couch.

You go to him, shivering. “Gas isn’t on.” He says.

“I can turn it on.” You offer.

“Nah, I’ll warm y’up, sweetheart.” He brushes his knuckles down your bare arms. “Why don’t you get all this off?”

He looks down at this suit. You follow his gaze. Sometimes he’ll take off his jacket and tie; usually he’s mostly dressed and you’re not.

You hook your thumbs under his lapels and push the jacket back on his shoulders. He lets you strip it off. You fold it over the threadbare chair on the other side of the couch. You return to him and unbutton his vest. You can see his chest rise and fall calmly. Your own heart is ragged.

You expect him to stop you. Vest, tie, shirt, belt, shoes, undershirt. He stands in his trousers and you wait for his order. It doesn’t come.

You push down his trousers and find him pressed up inside his undershorts. You never saw too much of him. Somehow, it made it easier. You could feel him but not seeing so much of what he did helped you get through.

Your hands shake as you touch the linen. He purrs and puts his hands over yours. He helps you guide them past his rigid need and lets them fall to his feet. He kicks free of them as he latches onto you.

“Keep this on,” he touches your camisole.

He turns and sits on the couch, his cock bobbing in front of his stomach. You try not to look at it. You push your bloomers down, leaving your camisole and stockings in place.

He beckons you with a curl of his fingers. “Get on me.”

Your lip trembles. He’s always in control. On top or behind. Never like this.

You go to him and he leans forward to guide you onto his lap. You kneel just above him and he reaches below you to rub his tip against your thigh. He quivers.

“Now. I need you.” He demands.

You let yourself down slowly. His tip stretches you and you whine. It’s not easier than the first, second, third, or however many other times. You sink onto him until you can’t take any more.

His hands crawl up your sides as he exhales loudly. He quakes as his voice grizzles in his throat. He fondles you under the loose cotton.

“Move,” he commands.

You tilt your hips and he groans. You do it again. You wince as your walls squeeze him. You put your hands on his shoulders as you carry the rhythm as best you can. He dips one hand around you to cup your bottom.

Your breath mingles with him as you pant wildly. Your insides strain and knot as you feel him tensing. His arm curls around you and he pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He leads your tempo with his hand on your backside.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s what I need.”

You’re not going fast or hard, but the long strokes have you babbling. You hang your head back as he nuzzles you. His groans steam against your skin.

“Sweetheart, you’re so sweet.” He grits. “So sweet when I’m inside.”

-

You wake up, sweaty and sticky. Crowded on the couch. You open your eyes and stare at the wall. It’s been a long time since you woke up not being cold.

You shift under the arm around you. No. He’s still… there. He doesn’t stay. Not ever. No.

You don’t know why he would. You can’t guess at it. Just like you don’t know why he showed up unexpected, so needy. It scares you. You could handle the monthly visits, even if they lasted hours, but this is different. This is ominous.

You gently move his arm off of him. You roll off the edge of the couch. Your camisole is crumpled at your waist. You stand and pull it up. He’s naked. Hard, again or still. You can’t say.

You grab a blanket and drape it over him. He snores and wriggles, sinking further into the sofa. You find your thin robe and wrap yourself up. 

You leave him and go into the kitchen. You smell the pork. It’s cold enough that it hasn’t turned. You put it all away.

You put the kettle over the lit gas burner and wait for it to boil. You find two cups. You’ll have to send him off with something… once he wakes. You don’t dare rouse him. A man like him is hardly one you want to disturb when at peace.

You slice into the loaf and set it on a tray with the butter dish and the fresh pot of jam. You hope it’ll be enough. The clink of the glass is loud in the silence; not as loud as his grunt.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “You runnin’ away?” He turns onto his back and his arm hangs over the edge.

“Mr.-- Tommy,” you approach him, wringing your hands. “I’m only making some tea.”

“Tea…” he lifts his hand to rub his forehead. “Mmm. Good woman.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t dare point out the obvious or ask questions. Why did he stay?

“And will I have something sweet with my tea?” He asks as he looks up at you with his bold blue eyes.

“I’ve bread and jam–”

He snorts. “Eh, not what I mean.” You gulp as he swings his arm down and grabs himself through the blanket. “A man hurts so early. Dreamin’ of pretty things like you.”

-

Tommy leaves again. When will he be back? It’s more and more often. You’re exhausted from his visits. Edgy at the expectation of his intrusion; both of your home and your body.

You stopped looking for real work. You sleep late most days and struggle to do more than feed yourself between his interruptions. You don’t know how much longer you can do this.

You look around at the apartment. The same couch and chair. The same stove and scratched floor. He brings you little things; a vase with flowers now drooping, a thicker blanket with beautiful embroidery, even a pair of shoes he said would look fine on you.

You don’t need gifts, you need money.

You count out the banknotes in the tin. It’s enough. It will have to be.

You look at the packed carpet bag by the door. He can keep the rest. You won’t go on like this. You won’t pay for your existence by giving away your very being. You can feel it splintering away bit by bit.

There’s a train out of town. It’ll take you to Manchester. You have enough for the trip and then some. Enough to go all the way home or to buy a room for a few months or so. Enough to get you away.

You leave without looking back. You can’t. You walk down the streets, slumping, paranoid. Is that one of his men? That hat! No, it isn’t Tommy, just another man with dark hair and a yen for tobacco.

The train station is busy. You feel better as you weave into the crowd, disappearing into it. You buy your ticket and board. You hug your bag and stare out the window as you chug away from Birmingham.

When you get to your stop, you feel the weight slowly lifting. It will probably always be there but you can breathe a bit better. You peer around the city as you emerge into the streets. It might be worse here but you just couldn’t stay there. Not with him.

-

You find something. It pays little but you make it work. You work at a factory sewing shirts. It’s better than rolling tobacco, you suppose. The smell alone reminds you…

The hours take you from a dark morning to the dark evening. You walk home to your shared apartment where you have tea and stale bread with stew. A pot lasts you the week.

Every day is like the last but you can’t complain for it. It’s easier to know what’s expected. Easier to be invisible and get by.

It’s another early morning. Your head is foggy with fatigue. You work at your station with needle and thread. The collars are too delicate to be put through a machine. You bend your neck as you push the sharp tip into your thimble, over and over.

“That must be ‘im,” Margie says from your left.

“Is. Saw him earlier in that fancy car.” Catherine replies.

You don’t stop. Chatter on the line will have the forewoman on you. You’re paid by the shirt, not the hour.

“What’s he want, ya think?” Margie asks.

“Heard he’s lookin’ to buy the heap.” Catherine hisses.

“Hmph, shirt sewers and all.”

“Nah, I heard he was gon’ make it inta a brewery,” Catherine counters.

“Eh? S’pose they won’t be havin’ us workin’ the barrels,” Margie harrumphs.

You try not to listen. Not to think. That’s the way things go these days. A job isn’t guaranteed. Not ever. You bet ale makes more money than shirts.

“You,” Anya, the forewoman, pokes your back meanly. “Boss wants y’up in the office.”

You flinch and look back and forth between Margie and Catherine.

“Yeah, you. Probably your tally from yesterday.” She snarls. “Some of ya girls don’t know yer numbers.”

You frown. That’s valuable time you could be sewing. You put your work down and get off your stool. You pass Anya and head for the metal stairs.

You climb up and head down to Mr. Pierre’s office. You heard he isn’t French, he just didn’t like his name. You fix the scarf over your hair and knock.

“Mr. Pierre?” You call through.

You wait. No answer. You try again. He might not be able to hear you past the pressing machines.

You turn the handle. It’s unlocked. You slowly poke your head inside. The desk is empty. Oh.

Before you can back out, you feel something against your temple. “Get in here, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the timbre. No. Please.

You have no choice. You obey. Tommy pushes the door shut as he keeps the pistol pointed at you. You turn to face him.

“Nice to see ya again, sweetheart.” His arm stays straight as he glares over the barrel. He drops his aim and huffs. “Well…”

You stare at him. You’re not stupid. This isn’t a surprise. You just hoped he wouldn’t care that much.

“You’re not even gonna beg?” He asks.

“For…”

“Your life?”

You shake your head.

“What about the little one’s?” He presses the gun to your stomach. “Eh? That might save ya.”

You look down at the subtle curve in your middle. You haven’t thought about it. Really, you just hoped it would go away. With how little you eat, how much you work, you figured it might just take care of itself.

He laughs. You flinch and lift your gaze back to him. Your lips part.

“I can’t let my best friend graduate college as a virgin! You understand right?” He had that smooth yet exasperated tone while explaining the dilemma. “You’re like nothing I’ve ever had,” he gave you his puppy dog eyes, “You’re the only one I trust to help my best friend with this,” He made it sound so nonchalant, like everyone fucks their boyfriend’s best friend. He noticed your hesitance as you breached the doors of your school’s science department, stopping you before your classroom door. “I’ve never led you down the wrong path, have I?” 

You bit your lip, his final words echoing in your mind. He was always so selfless, putting himself before others. He was offering up his girlfriend to make sure his friend’s first time was a positive experience. How could you be the one to cut his streak of charitability short? 

 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Throughout the day you felt more and more positive about what was going to happen - that was until you were in Eren’s bedroom with Armin at the edge of his bed. The blonde was fidgeting with his hands, you could tell he was just as unsure as you were. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Eren?” He asked him, giving him the option to back out. He would be lying if he wasn’t interested in you - hell, the whole school was. It seemed to be a weekly occurrence where Eren had to protect you from another man’s attention - it was nerve-wracking how Eren was so nonchalant about sharing you with him now. 

“I’m Positive, ‘Min,” his smile was soft and sincere. Armin couldn’t hide the shiver that wracked across his spine. “You don’t mind, right Armin?” he shook his head fervently to Eren, biting down on his bottom lip as he searched for the right words. “I just recalled our talk way back when,” Eren was leaning back against his dresser, arms crossed and demeanor overtaken by cockiness as he continued, “When we first met her?” he spoke like you weren’t there. You were still by the door, rubbing your arms to soothe yourself from your nerves. Your eyebrows quirked at his mention of you, looking at Armin whose face grew even redder. “Do you remember, ‘Min?”

“Y-Yeah,” his voice quivers and his eyes won't move from a spot on the ground. 

“What talk?” you speak up. Eren finally turns to you, his teeth peaking out of his smirk.

“Armin, do you want to tell her?” The blonde is speechless, you can see a light sheen of sweat on his features as he looks up to Eren. He shakes his head again, you can almost feel the anxiety that radiates off of him. “It’s okay, she’s here isn’t she? She won’t laugh. Right? You won’t laugh?” he addresses you and you’re forced to agree to soothe Armin. “Go on ‘Min,” he assures him. You move towards him, feeling on edge seeing someone you knew so well be so nervous. He won’t meet your eyes so you chose to sit next to him, putting your hand on his back.

“It’s okay,” you promise him. Silence follows your words and after a couple of minutes Eren decides to put an end to his misery. 

“’s really no big deal, he just wanted to fuck you,” you can feel Armin’s body jump from the vulgar choice of words. He wouldn’t have put it so harshly. Before you and Eren were official, Armin had said he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. He may have also mentioned you were the first girl he ever really felt sexual feelings for. But, again, that was before you and Eren. In this moment, with Eren teasing him and you trying to comfort him, jumping out of the window didn’t sound like a terrible idea. 

“I-I mentioned that you were really pretty,” he was trying so desperately to recover but the taller boy would never allow it.

“It’s okay Armin- she doesn’t mind. Seriously,” You nodded along to Eren’s words, starting to feel a little flushed yourself. “You want to fuck him now, right?” you now were on the hot seat, enduring his questioning. 

“I agreed to help with his p-problem,” you were even beginning to stutter too. God what was Eren going to do with the two of you? He hovered over your figures on the edge of his bed, watching his best friend and girlfriend squirm at his words. 

“Then don’t let me stop you,” You couldn’t move at first, unsure as to what you should even do. He chuckled and reached his hand up your skirt. “Do you need some help getting ready?” his finger looped into your panties and pulled them down to your thighs. You could feel his slender digit nudge your entrance. You hissed at what he found. “Armin, she’s already wet for you,” he laughs incredulously. The blonde finally finds it in himself to move, shifting his body to get a better look. Eren grabs the top of your skirt, pulling it up to your stomach so you were on full display to his friend. He looked shocked. Maybe excited? You were too busy trying not to close your legs at the intrusion to get a good read. “Go ahead, feel,” Eren invites him. He’s hesitant at first, meeting your eyes to make sure it was ok with you. You meekly nod before feeling his cold finger against you. He looks surprised, feeling your slickness on his finger. He nudges the tip of his index against your entrance, probing the velvety skin. “Put it inside,” Eren encourages and you don’t even wait for Armin to check if it’s ok before you are nodding enthusiastically. His soft digit glides into your pussy and he watches, mesmerized by the image in front of him. He can feel the ridges of your walls against his finger and he definitely feels you squeeze around him. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs. He pulls it all the way out, watching the way your arousal trails to his finger. Your eyes are wide as you watch him fall in love with your pussy, and Eren pets your head muttering to himself. You’re such a good girl, letting him explore you. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Do you see her clit?” he asks his friend. “Girls really like it when you play with that,” he advises him. Armin moves his finger up to your clit and your body jolts at sudden harsh feeling. “Rub it gently. In circles.” and Armin obeys. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, incredibly aroused by Armin’s intense interest in your intimate areas. His face was not unsimilar to how it looks when he studies; His brows furrowed in concentration and his jaw was slightly clenched. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, too transfixed on what was happening below. You let out a small mewl, his finger barely ghosting on your clit making it hard to think. 

“What should I do next?” Armin asks Eren.

“What do you want to do next?”

“I want to eat her pussy,”

 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

You were now at the top of the bed with your head underneath a pillow and your pussy enduring Eren’s lesson. He taught him how to swirl his tongue on your clit, how to delve the muscle into your entrance, and that you loved being teased with kitten licks. It felt almost professional the way they talked about your pussy - like you weren’t there. Like it wasn’t attached to you and you weren’t actively moaning at each flick of Armin’s tongue. Eren held down your thighs to keep you from squishing Armin’s head between them, still guiding him on what to do. “Use your finger on her clit again,” he instructed and your legs shivered. His tongue was keeping a steady rhythm in and out of you while his thumb reached up to rub delicious circles on your bundle of nerves. Eren looked proud watching him make you fall apart. “Keep going Armin, she’s gonna cum.” He picked the pace up, and consequently your hips started to rise off the bed. Armin’s face had your pleasure smeared across it as you bucked and pushed your pussy further against his mouth. You were losing control, begging Armin to go faster. “You want Armin to make you cum?” Eren asks you and you cry out a yes. “Armin is making you feel good baby?” and again you are saying yes. 

“Yes, yesss. Mmm. I’m gon’ cum,'' you announce and Eren watches as you fall apart with his friend’s face attached to your pussy. When you come down and after a few more gentle licks, Armin’s head pops out from between your legs and he looks dazed. His lower face glistens with your fluid and his mouth heaves trying to take in much needed breaths. He barely gives himself time to process before he’s already wanting to be inside of you.

“Is that ok, Eren?” he asks, even though he’s not sure what he would do if the answer was no. Eren nods, but adjusts your position to be on top of him. He has you propped against his chest as he sits up against the headboard. The dizziness of making you cum fades once he realizes what he’s about to do, growing unsure of himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Eren inquires and Armin can’t hold back a blush. Scratching the back of his head, he stares down at the two of you. “Look at her Armin, she wants you too,” and he’s right. You are squirming on top of Eren, your body anticipating what was about to come. Eren makes a show of grabbing your tits still under your shirt. He tweaks at the nipple, keeping his gaze on his friend.   

“You won’t be mad?” It was a silly question to ask after he ate you out like a starving man, but he couldn’t help it. Eren didn’t want to admit his reasons were entirely selfish. He loved spilling his seed inside of you, promising one day to give you his kids. He loved watching you squirm as he edged you for hours, reducing you to tears and snot as you begged for release. He especially loved seeing you reach your peak in public, the idea of being caught incredibly arousing to him. He loved how you would do anything he asked of you; He was absolutely going to love you taking his best friend so good for him. All he could do was shake his head ‘No’ for now. 

Armin undoes his belt, hands shaking as he pulls his pants down - his briefs joining after a moment of silent contemplation. His cock slaps against his stomach, the tip angry with fat drops of precum spilling out of it. It’s fairly long, but not as thick as Eren’s. He crawls on the bed to join you two. His breath is shaky, looking down at you, and he can't help but squeeze the base of his length before gliding his hand up and down. Eren’s own hand reaches down to your pussy, playing with your entrance again. 

“I’ll warm her up for it,” he tells Armin, sliding his middle and ring finger inside of you. You whine at the intrusion and he curls them inside you. He wastes no time hitting the spot that makes you throw your head back. “Kiss her, ‘Min,” he orders him. Your pink lips are wet with your spit and your eyes are half-open, lost in the feeling of Eren’s fingers. You ask Armin to kiss you when he doesn’t move at first. When his lips hit yours, Eren picks up the speed. You’re moaning - struggling to keep your lips pursed. The kiss is wet and sloppy and Armin is stroking himself a little faster listening to the squelch of your pussy. “I think she’s ready,” and Armin doesn’t allow himself another moment to reconsider. 

He pulls away from the kiss, lining himself up to you, and pushing himself in. He doesn’t acknowledge that you might need a moment to adjust, he just buries himself all the way in, his voice straining, “Oh shit”. You let out a sharp moan, feeling him bully his way into your tight cunt. Once he’s in he can’t help himself from moving. You can also feel Eren rocking against your backside, matching the rhythm of his best friend’s cock going in and out of your sopping pussy. His pupils are blown out, enamored by the scene in front of him. He pulls your legs back to try and get a better look, causing Armin to go deeper than before. The both of you moan simultaneously at the new angle, your gummy walls massaging his dick perfectly, the head reaching the spot that makes you see stars. You’re completely out of it, drool seeping onto Eren’s shirt as your head rested against his chest. Eren doesn’t even notice - too entranced. Armin’s perfect cock pulls out of you, glistening with your slick, before pounding itself right back in. “It feels t-too good. I can’t last much l-longer..” his moans are high pitched - he completely lost himself in the feeling of your pussy taking him so perfectly. “F-fuck. You’re too perfect,” he hisses, choking out sobs. He’s so overstimulated by how tight you’re squeezing him, how everytime he pulls out your pussy desperately clings to his cock. And the noise - he will never forget the noise. You are so wet - your arousal now leaking down your thighs and smearing itself all over his balls. 

“Cum in her, I don’t mind,” Eren promises. Armin picks up speed and he’s completely lost now. His moans are more like pathetic whines. He’s praising your pussy, thanking his best friend for allowing him to cum inside of you. Allowing you to milk his cock so perfectly. He rocks into you a few more times before he reaches impossibly deep, spilling his load. Eren wonders if it's dangerous for his cock to be this hard. You’re clawing at Eren’s thighs and Armin is crying out. He continues to cum, his dick twitching as his semen sprays your walls. He was babbling out a prayer as he came, thanking every deity he could think of that could have possibly made your pussy so perfect. Once Armin finally pulls off of you, his chest heaves, watching some of his fluid spill out of your perfect center. Eren’s fingers reach down to plug you up and Armin could have passed out at the filthiness of it all. “I gotta make sure it all stays in,” he tells Armin. He’s pulling down his sweatpants with his other hand, careful not to move the one keeping Armin’s cum buried in your hole. He shifts underneath you, making it so you’re laying now. “I think my dick would work better keeping it in,” he comments, mainly to himself. You’re squirming on top of him, excited for his thick cock to replace his fingers. He barges in as roughly as Armin - desperate to feel you squeeze his whole length. He makes quick work - fucking Armin’s children back up inside of you. “You think she can hold both of our loads, ‘Min?” Armin’s mouth is almost on the floor listening to his best friend’s dirty talk. “Fuck-” Eren can’t help but curse out. From his friend’s perspective he could see a mixture of fluids build at the base of Eren’s cock, creating a ring around it. The squelching sounds were overwhelming - along with your constant breathy moans. You were completely drunk off of their cocks. They were in awe with how well you took them - how good the attention of your pussy felt. Armin felt himself growing semi-hard, almost jealous Eren was feeling the heaven he just felt. You were truly an angel. “C’mere and rub her clit,” Eren spat out another order that Armin would be too stupid not to follow. He sat at the side of you two, his fingers reaching your nub. 

You choked out a sob, “‘Min, you’re s-so good at that,” and he truly was. His fingers were soft and fast and he knew just the right speed to get your pussy clenching on Eren’s cock. 

“G-god beautiful. You like him playing with your pretty pussy? Fuck! Squeezing me so tight. ‘M gonna cum inside you. Give you a baby, would ‘ya like that? Gonna breed you so good. All with Armin’s help, huh?” You're lost in his words, his cock - Armin’s delicate fingers. You come loud - you begin crying and reaching for Armin’s hand. He smacks it away, continuing his assault on your clit as Eren pounds into you. One arm is holding you down against him, the other spreading your left thigh open to make you take him well. He’s praising you, “Fuck- this tight pussy baby… ‘feels so good. Want me to come? Want me to mix our loads? Won’t know whose baby it is” His hair is flat against his forehead, almost completely covering his eyes. He can still see though, he’s watching his best friend relentlessly rub your clit and holding your hands so you can’t stop him. He’s overstimulated by the sight and his dick is twitching while rope after rope of cum shoots out of him and into your perfect pussy. 

 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

The two boys take their time cleaning you up - not before they spend even longer watching their mixture spill out of you. They both take their turns shoving it back inside of you before watching it dribble out of you again. Armin can’t help himself from teasing your clit a few more times while Eren’s finger plays with the juices falling out of you. He teaches Armin a thing or two about the importance of aftercare, and the two of them clean you up in the bath.

you stir, eyes blinking open to your friend in front of you. "yuji?" you ask, trying to wipe the haze of sleep from your eyes. when you move to sit up you realize the large palm resting on your chest and you immediately stiffen in alert. "yuu?" you ask again, hand going up to pull off his own. you can't see his face well from this angle and for a moment you think he must be sleep walking. "yuji... are you awake?" your soft voice stirs something deep in his body, an uncharacteristic growl suddenly emits from your best friends lips. it's then he moves to straddle you, pushing you back against your bed. you look up at him, the light emanating from your open window providing you some clarity. this was not definitely not yuji. "sukuna..." you said, barely above a whisper. you see him smile before you hear the low chuckle that comes from deep in his chest.

"i wasn't expecting you to be such a light sleeper," he tells you. his gruffly voice all but confirms that this isn't the sweet boy you've come to know. he's still smiling, his hand reaching up to trace down your neck before spanning across your collarbone. the feather light touch brings a shiver down your body, highlighting your already taut nipples. he doesn't even try to hide his roaming eyes that land on your chest. instead he begins to unbutton your shirt, starting from the top button. you don't dare move a muscle. due to yuji's physicality, you knew you didn't stand a chance against him. even if he wasn't the king of curses, yuji's muscles alone gave him the strength to pop your head like a balloon. with sukuna fronting, that fact became even more obvious than before. without yuji's softness, his body was a lethal weapon that caused your heart to thump heavy against your ribcage. "scared, little bunny?" he asks you, his hands still slowly making work of your top. the nickname makes you frown and his grin only grows. "little bunny..." he teases, leaning down into your ear. his breath is hot and all encompassing. yuji's lips graze your earlobe and sukuna says, "you get it? because your little heart is going thump, thump, thump," he emphasizes every syllable and your body recoils. his hands undo the final button and he doesn't bother to look when he pulls open your top. your nipples hit the frigid air but they're quickly encased by his hands. his tongue reaches out to lick your ear, the sound of his heavy breaths almost deafening. you're stiff under him while he savors the taste of your skin. something wet hits your nipples and you jump. "you like that?" he asks you, pulling off one of his hands with a sickening pop. he shows his open palm to you, a sickeningly long tongue lolling out. you cringe and he only laughs, reaching down to keep teasing your nipples with his hand-tongues. your stomach clenches, becoming queasy while he has his way with you. "aww c'mon little bunny. put on a show for the kid," your eyes shoot to his, almost like you're trying to see yuji behind them.

"he's there?" you ask, your voice shaking a little.

"where else would he be?" sukuna retorts, his filthy hand-tongues move to explore more of your skin. their spit glistening against your skin and you try desperately not to lose your resolve. you don't want yuji to see you scared.

"is he always there?" you ask him back, intrigued slightly by the thought. you had always just assumed yuji went unconscious when sukuna took over. clearly you had been wrong.

"always, little bunny," he breaths heavy in your ear again. his mouth moving to your neck. soft kisses line your skin. his lips gentle in a way you didn't think possible for the king of curses.

"why are you doing this?" it's a brave question, but while sukuna was feeling talkative you thought you'd give it a try. the all-too-familiar grumble in his chest comes back, finding humor in your bravery.

"teaching the kid a lesson," he says simply. going back to exploring you with his mouth, moving down to kiss between your breasts. his hands lower to your hips, gripping them and massaging the plump skin.

"a lesson in what?" you gulp, helpless underneath him.

"in taking what you want..." he pauses for a moment, looking into your eyes. "you think this was all my idea? i have much better things to do than think about fucking some silly little girl all day," he presses another gentle kiss on your breast before meeting your gaze again. "told him if he just fucked you he wouldn't be so pent up all the time," another kiss to your nipple this time. his tongue swirls around the bud and you don't know what takes over you when your hip bucks up into him. he notices, but he doesn't comment. "thought i'd do the kid a favor and fuck you good since he was too pussy himself," realization slams into you like a bus. yuji... likes you?

you snap out of it almost as quickly as you thought it. this was sukuna speaking. nothing he said was the truth. he was a curse, and not just any curse. the king of curses. deceit came as easily to him as breathing. wait... did he need to breathe?

"you're lying.." you tell him. he continues smooching your chest, one of his hands grabbing your tit roughly, giving him a better angle to suck it into his ready mouth. you have no choice but to watch as he bites and sucks. he finally removes himself once he feels satisfied.

"you got me. i'm lying," he laughs, but his face remains serious. "not about the yuji thing though. the kid definitely wants to fuck you," he muses. "but fucking you is doing me the favor. he's been giving me a serious case of blue balls with how little he gets. haven't had a good fuck since being trapped in this body." his hands suddenly rip down your pajama bottoms, the force causing your body to jolt.

"please," you begin to plead. realizing all too suddenly just how serious the situation was. he ignores you as he peels your thighs apart with little effort. "i'll call for gojo!" you threaten without thinking and he pauses, his dark expression growing even darker.

"do it," he sneers down at you, "what do you think that blue eyed freak will believe when he comes in here and sees yuji balls deep in your tight little pussy? that the big scary king of curses is wasting his time fucking a student? or that you and the kid are horny little brats who go at it in the dorms? answer. quickly," he barks and your mouth hangs open. the way those dirty words fall from his lips without even a stutter making you hesitate. maybe he was right. if gojo came in, he would relinquish his hold on yuji's body and you both would not only be traumatized, but probably expelled. you decided you had to be brave for the both of you. you wanted to cry, for yourself, but also for yuji. he must be so mortified watching this. you had to endure—for the both of you. you don't give sukuna an answer and he doesn't bother to press. he goes back to what he was doing; his thumb spreading apart your folds. "take a look at that kid," he grumbles. "you picked a good one. didn't know they even made pussies like this anymore," your stomach rolls but you don't show it. his thumb moves to push into your cunt, his long nail scraping painfully at your insides. you wince but sukuna doesn't acknowledge it. "so wet, little bunny. who's this for?" he teases. he pulls his thumb out, reaching it up to his lips and popping it into his mouth. he groans, eyes closed like he's savoring the taste. "taste that yuji?" 'know you've been wondering what she tastes like for a while now," you desperately want to know the other half of the conversation you can't hear. you know yuji must be tearing sukuna a new one for degrading you in this way. both his thumbs go to spread your folds open and he parts his lips slightly. soon enough, a wad of spit trails down before landing on your clit. "take notes yuji. you have to play with this little thing," he says, pointing to your little bundle of nerves with his dark nail. "most girls can't come without stimulation here," he lectures. he reaches down to toy with it and you can't fight the natural reaction that he pulls from you. your hips lift a little as he spreads his spit and teases your clit. "see yuji? they become putty in your hands," you grimace but your hips don't stop rolling. his freaky hand-tongue makes a reappearance and you begin to see stars. "that's it little girl," he mewls. you grit your teeth to hold back your whines as the long muscle works you better than any of your vibrators could. shame washes over you at the thought and you struggle to collect yourself. "you gonna come already?" he teases, your hips rolling into his disgusting hand, trying to get the perfect angle. the tongue flattens, licking a fat stripe up your cunt before circling your clit with just the tip. this time you don't have it in you to fight the moan that escapes your lips. the tongue works you almost to completion in mere minutes. you're huffing, face dusted red as you close your eyes. trying to hold a semblance of control. "she's going to cum yuji," he tells him, even though he can clearly see. you bite your lip, your stomach twitching as your orgasm lingers just below the surface. "you wanna cum, little girl?" he asks you, almost sweetly. despite the desire to say yes you shake your head. desperately gripping on to the little bit of dignity you probably already lost. "no? suit yourself," he says nonchalantly.

his hand pulls away, a string of spit and slick going with it. sukuna pulls yuji's hardened cock out of his pants and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the sheer size. his tip is red and drooling, the shaft longer than you thought possible. "please... don't do this," you plead.

"i have to. i'm only giving the kid what he wants," he tells you but you aren't sure you believe him. he says it so cooly, ignoring as you shake beneath him. "relax," he coos, "you're more than ready for it," you realize he's right as he slips right in. your cunt giving him little push-back. he groans so loudly you think someone had to have heard it. he pushes your thighs flat against the bed, the burn from the unnatural position almost distracting you from yuji's cock dragging against your walls. sukuna's eyes are glued to where you two connect and you swear a little bit of drool leaks past his lips. "you lookin' kid?" he asks yuji. "never seen anything so perfect in my life. fuck. this pussy was made for your cock," he's completely ignoring you. doing everything in his power to rile yuji up, you assume. frothy fluids quickly build at the base of his cock, the evidence of your arousal undeniable now. "'didn't know it was possible to get this wet this quickly," he says, more to himself. he's right though—in every aspect. you are freakishly wet, and yuji's cock felt suspiciously right buried deep inside you.

"are you almost done?" you wince after a particularly delicious roll. his hips begin to snap against your cunt meanly, yuji's cock bulging beneath your stomach with each thrust. when sukuna doesn't dignify you with a response, you assume the sudden roughness must be your answer. his eyes watch each bounce of your tits as he fucked into you with purpose.

"fuck, fuck, fuck" he groans, each snap loosening his own self control. "such a greedy little cunt," he grunts. "yuji? you've been awfully silent in there..." he says, still snapping into you with such force you feel like he's in your throat. "can't blame you kid. fuuuuuck," he pulls your legs up and over you, folding you in half without even pulling out. the change in position has you seeing stars. you don't stand a chance with yuji's cock reaching your cervix. his weight bearing down on you was a welcomed feeling. with each drag of his cock you lost yourself more and more into the feeling. your poor little pussy kept twitching from the beating she was taking and sukuna noticed each one. "you wanna come now? you gotta say it," he says to you. if he wasn't reaching places you didn't know existed you would be disgusted with his incessant need to make you admit just how badly you needed the release he was offering you. instead you meekly nodded, knowing you only had a few more strokes before you were done for. when he sees you nod, he pulls out abruptly, tossing you onto your stomach. he lifts your hips off the bed and you brace yourself for the new position. instead of sinking back in like you expected, he lands a punishing smack to your right cheek. you can't fight the cry that leaves your lips. "use your words, little bunny. or i'll edge you until you have no choice but to beg the king of curses," he lands another smack, angling to smack against your waiting pussy.

"ow!" you gasp. "please. please make me cum," the words leave your lips and so does all your dignity. but he's not done.

"who are you begging?" he asks you, and you furrow your brow in confusion.

"wha-?" you begin but he spanks you again, more harshly this time. definitely leaving a bruise.

"you know what i mean. are you begging me to fuck you, or the kid?" you aren't sure how to respond. you're scared if you say yuji, he'll switch back and yuji will be so mortified you won't ever get the release you've been needing for the past half hour. but if you say sukuna, you're not sure you want to deal with the consequences of that either. "times ticking," he grunts, growing impatient.

"i-i don't know," you admit and shockingly, he rubs your cheek soothingly.

"i-i'm gonna," you cry out, your back arching unnaturally as your orgasm hit you like waves against the shore. powerful, punishing, and never-ending. two strong hands gripped your hips impossibly hard, a foreign high-pitched cry filled the air followed by your cunt filling with cum. you could feel his cock bob with each heavy spurt of sperm he unloaded into you. you gasped at the overwhelming feeling of his hot load swimming inside of you.

"i get to chose then," he warns, but it sounds strangely promising. a few seconds pass. sukuna goes strangely silent before he suddenly buries into you from behind. you have to bite down on your hand to stop the noises that action pulled from you. he begins pumping into you with purpose. each rock of his hips causing your stiff nipples to drag across the sheets. his balls slapping rhythmically against your clit. there was something different about these strokes, though. they were rushed and unrehearsed, completely different than the rough pounding you were taking earlier. it almost felt.. romantic? it was unsettlingly raw but you didn't have time to question. you were far too busy focusing on your release.

as soon as he pulled out. yuji looked down at what he had done. his body shaking as he watched his jizz ooze out of your twitching hole. mortified, he collapsed in on himself. "yuu, you're back," you say, the sweet voice you've reserved only for him making its reappearance. "i'm so sorry yuji," you turn around to hold him, apologizing so sincerely it almost makes him sick. he doesn't say anything , letting you rub his back and coo at him. promising you know that he's not at fault. that that evil, wicked sukuna defiled you and that he was just as much as a victim as you were.

Have you been laying in another men bed? Like a common whore? Do you perhaps even have his babe in his belly, instead of his like you rightfully should? Daemon doesn't give you the luxury to explain or plead for your "lover” life, he's already gone. Your lover's head falls right in between your feet, and your screams are loud enough to be heard even deep in the North. Daemon does care about your screams, your sobs, your pleas, and your poor attempt at resistance; he will fuck you right there, near the poor body of your now death lover, his head in front of you but all you can see is the back of it and the cut of Daemon sword. And he is making sure you are watching the dead body, reminding you who you belong to and what will happen to those who dare to ruin you and defy him.

When Daemon is pushing you by your arm to go back where you belong, a cry interrupts the moment. A baby cries, awoke maybe by the rumours from before. How did he not hear it before? But no matter, he will saddle this soon as he draws his sword out once again, ready to kill the bastard babe in his own cradle but, maybe he should have noticed it before, you aren't begging to let the child live, you are begging him to not take it with you. To leave it here, where that bastard of a lover's family lives.

Only when he looks at the babe it becomes clear why: a babe too old to belong to that other man, silver hair comes out of her little head, and violet eyes full of tears stare back at him, his, and your feature mixed into what he considers one of the beautiful sights in the word.

“Daemon please, let her live here. Do not take her back, I will give you another. I will give you a boy Daemon please” you try to beg, his hands on your arm not even trying to push him. All you can do is look at him while Daemon gazes in fixated on his daughter, almost like an animal sensing his kin.

Daemon goes to pick the child in his arms, still staring at her maybe surprised, maybe appeased, and she stares back, still sniffling but curious of the new stranger.

“Her birthright” Daemon starts, staring at you with a smirk on his face and you feel your heart sinking. "Is to be near her father, being taught the greatness of her house, and having a dragon. I will not allow some filth to touch her anymore wife. You have disrespected my child for far too long" He looks at his daughter and his whole face softens, gently caressing her face with his free hand, his sword long forgotten. All you can do is stare at your daughter laughing and swallowing your sob, not wanting her to become stressed.

You tell yourself that you tried, you tried with all your might and force.

“Let's go back home. Caraxes will have that bastard meat, at least he will be useful for something. We have plenty to catch on, my dearest.”

₍^. .^₎⟆ Aemond Targaryen

₍^. .^₎⟆ TW/CW: A bit of Delusion, Mean Aemond kind of

You were Aemond strength and anchor. In a way, you kept him sane while everything in his life was going on and destroying itself. But at night, being with you was enough to keep the stress away and keep doing his job. But that day, when he finally came back to his chamber later than intended, and you weren't there? It's not a day he will ever forget.

He doesn't believe it. He can't believe it. He was careful, he was thoughtful. He made sure that… His only eye watery as he screams for the guards to come, not once a tear fall down his pretty eye. Aemond will call everyone who was around you; your guards, your maids, the other servant, his mother, and sister as well demanding to know what happened, what they did, who helped you, everything you did the moments prior of your escape. He needs to know everything you did, your plan, before he runs to Vhagar to follow his most promising trial. You can't possibly have gone so far that he can't reach you with Vhagar, he made sure that all possibilities were gone just in case.

It seems however that you managed to do it regardless. Since no matter how hard he tries Aemond cannot find you. All his clue turn out to be either wrong or you are too far gone now, and he has a dragon. You were clearly studying this for a long time down to all minimal details, but it won't matter because he will find you. He's a prince, he has the means; the money, the spies, the dragon, if he cannot find his lover what good does those things do?

And Aemond finds you one day, after being separated for far too long... He will ride Vhagar towards the small village you have found your “peace” in, a village so little it hardly appears in the map of the kingdom. One small enough that he probably passed by when he has flying with Vhagar and didn't even notice it. You were always so clever, so attentive to what he did. You were truly the love of his life.

If it wasn't for Larys telling him that they saw a woman who clearly looked like you in poorer and ruined clothes, with two purple eyed babes in your arms. It made him even more furious. Hiding his children? In this... Horrible place? Maybe he did spoil you too much like his brother said, because here he is now. A prince finding his escape wife in some dirt place, with his babies that he has never met.

Aemond is no fool; if he comes with Vhagar right away you and your entire village will notice, he might be forced to kill most of them and you will use this excuse to escape him once again. Taking only more time and prolonging this useless cat and mouse escape. So, he comes at night, and makes to sure to hide Vhagar near the village, coming to your house like he is another filthy peasant.

The man who opens the door confused makes him sick. You dare someone like him to touch, be near his children? How you have fall down. But Aemond choose to ignore him and goes immediately to you, staring at you holding one of yours babies.

“I have come to collect you, my wife. You ought to come back, where you and my children deserves to be.” his violet eye stares at you with his usual look; calm, collected, a small smile on his face.

You try to fight back, you try to plead him to not take you back, but it's all in vain. Your lover, who immediately understood what was going on, tried to leave before Aemond anger focuses on him and maybe even kills him. Aemond does notice him leaving, but he lets him, a cruel smirk forming on his face.

“So, is that the type of man of your choosing? A pathetic, scared man, who cannot even look at me in the eyes? Not even try to fight me with words?” he amuses, his hand gently caressing your cheek with fondness that scares you. He's too calm, far too calm.

Aemond picks his boy you have in your arms, and with a moment of his head, tells you to pick his brother who is still asleep. His eye is now full of love and care you never thought he would have.

“Kepa iksis kesīr naejot maghagon ao lenton ñuha dōna. Kesi sagon iā lentor.”

You thought it was over. He would take you, the kids, and leave. But no. Aemond easily finds your, ex?, lover and demands a fight, for honour, to give him a "chance". But you knew how able he is with a sword, so the poor man had no real chance, it was just a show off of power, of strength. You decided to not watch and distract your babies, only hearing the screaming and the begging. Aemond at least gives you the possibility to not watch it.

₍^. .^₎⟆ Jacaerys Velaryon

₍^. .^₎⟆ TW/CW: Delusion, Fake Kidnapping?, Pregnant Reader

For Jacaerys everything was going well. Your marriage was fine, and you were getting used to the royal life, Dragonstone, his family, everything was fine! So why? Why did he wake up without you near his side? Why, when he simply thought you woke up before him and went to do your things, everyone told him they haven't seen you?

He thinks, at first, someone might have kidnapped you. He can't phantom the possibility that you might have "escaped" because why would you? Everything is fine. Sure, he might be overbearing and paranoid, but he has his reason! The royal court, the highborns, everyone can be and will be a danger to you that he has to protect you from. He is used nowadays for the awful chatting of the ladies of the new gossip about him, the men talking about his bastardly... But you? You are so pure, he has to keep you separate, forcing you in your shared room or to be only with him or his family.

“How can one kidnap a royal and not send anything? No ransom?” Rhaenyra tries to give some senses to her eldest son, looking at him. “Has love clouded your senses that you cannot see what's in front of you?”

“Why would she leave then Mother? I haven't... No one has treated her badly. Everything was, is, perfect! I see no reason for her leaving.” He responded before leaving, going back to ride his dragon Vermax once again, after coming back home in his research for you. Jacaerys did not care if his mother didn't agree on it, believing that you were gone and left for dead, wishing for him to marry for a political advance this time. He will not move on so easily and marry the first woman to give her mother a new alley, money, or whatever.

In his heart he knew. Jacaerys knew that you were alive, possibly being kept prisoner and the sole idea made him tear up, his heart hurting.

But he is his mother son after all. He’s determined and will not bulge no matter what. And, while it takes him a while unfortunately, Jacaerys does find you one day. In a remote village you stayed for far too long for your liking, since your idea was always to go to the free city in Essos. But your lover, that idiot, never thought too much about Jacaerys and his dragon “they are both young” “they will never found us in this village, it’s so remote. Why would a noble stay here?”

Idiot. Complete idiot.

That’s what you think when you see Vermax over you, gliding down over there to let Jacaerys down and run to you with a happy smile on his face, and you can swear he’s already crying.

“My love! I have finally found you!” he screams, and Jacaerys doesn’t even seem to notice the man right near you trying to protecting you from him. Or, if he does notice, he simply doesn’t care. But Jacaerys isn’t an idiot, he has noticed how much that man was too close to you, and you were too comfortable around him. Like you knew each other, and you weren’t kidnapped.

“My love? Who is this?” he says, his hand already going to his sword, staring at you in a way you never saw. Jacaerys with you was always so gentle, so kind, you never would have guessed he had a death glare or his angry voice, though you hear it from servants and his mother to never “saw his bad side”. But you always laughed at them mentally, now you wonder if this is what they meant.

You don’t even get the possibility to explain who your lover is that he was already dead. He tried to attack Jacaerys with a hidden knife but all he managed was a very weird and easily dodge able attack, making it too easy for Jacaerys to respond with his sword and give a the poor man with a swing. He doesn’t even look twice at the dying man and immediately goes to hug you tight, and only then he noticed the big belly you have since you were wearing bigger, buggy clothes.

“Is it mine?” it’s all he asked in an icy tone, staring at you. You nod, terrified, but it was the truth. The maester himself confirmed and you are surprised that he did actually kept his promise and didn’t tell him, maybe paying that such large sum was worth it.

“Why did you leave when you are pregnant!? It could have been dangerous! It is dangerous!” Jacaerys shouts, but immediately calms down and kisses you on the cheek with a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry for screaming at you my love. I’m just worried. Come on, let’s go home.”

₍^. .^₎⟆ Aegon Targaryen

₍^. .^₎⟆ TW/CW: Alcoholism (so yk, the usual), Throwing Stuff and Hurting ppl, Dragon!!

No matter what the others might say, Aegon was no fool. Especially when it’s about you. He noticed you were getting anxious around him, scared that he might found something. And he wasn't delusional enough to hope it was something good. Whatever you were hiding, it was bad. And so he gives you even more guards to control you, afraid of what your little surprise might be.

He’s so very careful and attentive when it’s about you. Way too careful and attentive.

But when he found you were able to escape, even after all the worry and precautions, leaving him confused, angry, sad, and most of all: lonely. The walls even feel colder and big without you there, and everything seems much, much worse, and more stressful than ever. Aegon alcholism gets worst too; it’s basically impossible for him to be seen without a glass of wine in his hands, even when doing his job as a king no matter how much his mother and grandfather scream at him, he will just globbed down a glass and order another one right away.

The poor guards are the ones who sees most of his anger and, if it wasn’t for Alicent and Otto, they could be already dead with their hands on a pike for all to see. Instead, they luckily just get his anger in screaming, threats, and him throwing stuff around if not directly aimed at them, no caring if they get hurt, maybe he’s hurting them on purpose since he can’t kill them. Aegon is so incredibly pissed off with his small council; how come no one knows where the fuck you are! How come he has the best spy in the kingdom but they can’t do shit like finding a single lady who escaped from the most protected place?!

Your finding is a top priority for everyone, even the smallfolk. Who are encouraged to find you thank to a huge reward, but not if you have any type of bruises. You must be perfect, as have you left the Red Keep. Aegon also started to ride Sunfyre more often, even if everyone tells him not to, what if someone sees you milord? What if someone tries to hurt you, milord? All stuff he doesn’t listen to. He is the fucking king for the sevens! He will do as he pleases.

But that’s exactly how Aegon finds you. Riding Sunfyre without a destination.

You aren’t even sure how he fucking saw you, up in the sky with his dragon but you are sure he did. Maybe it’s that fucking bond everyone always adores with their dragons or something. Sevens, you feel stupid now.

You don’t even get to run that he immediately lands in front of you, and Sunfyre doesn’t take kindly to you having someone else near. Sunfyre is used to you and even likes you, but your poor, poor new boyfriend? No. Absolutely not. Maybe he can sense Aegon anger and fury seeing a man so close to you, but Sunfyre immediately starts howling and some fire comes out of his mouth, it’s only because he senses his own rider blood within him that he did not burn him at sight you guess. Only because he was holding Aegon son.

Aegon, unlike his dragon, did not share the same contain. He took his sword and immediately used to hurt your poor boyfriend in the face, making him loose force on his legs, and he falls, while still gripping your son in his arms, in front of Aegon.

“Let my child go and I’ll think about sparring your life.” Aegon says while his sword is pointing right in front of your boyfriend. But you know him; his life wouldn’t be spared. Not when he will know that you were together, if he doesn’t know it already, not when he holds Aegon sons.

That’s what exactly what happens. Sadly, since your now dead boyfriends last words were “take them! Take her! Just… Just let me live your majesty! Please!” you don’t feel that bad now, but still… Seeing his body all bruised and with blood coming out makes you sick, and sad. Aegon picks up your son from the ground and looks at him more clearly, a small smile appearing on his face.

“There, there my little prince, everything is alright… Daddy saved you from that beast, don’t worry.” he says, coddling your son that was crying over what just happen. “Mommy will be good now and not let any filth touch you no more, daddy will make sure of that. He will also make sure that mommy won’t run off this time for good.”

You sighed, trying your best to not start crying in fear of making your sons even more distressed, but you feel like you already failed them.

♡ jude bellingham

jude had been on a frantic search for his jersey for what felt like an eternity, but was in reality just about five minutes. his brows furrowed in frustration, his hands shuffling through the cluttered drawers with a sense of importance.

"i know i left it here …" his voice trailed off, a hint of confusion lacing his words.

from your cozy corner on the sofa, you looked up from your phone, faking innocence. a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but you bit it back, trying and failing, not to give away your little secret.

"what?" jude's voice echoed from the other room, his tone laced with slight irritation and curiosity.

he rounded the corner into the living room, his murmurs fading into silence as he took in the sight before him. there you were, curled comfortably into the plush cushions of the sofa, his prized real madrid jersey draping over your frame, its edge hanging almost to your thighs.

"… oh." his voice was barely a whisper, the realization hitting him like a soft punch.

the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioner and jude's quiet chuckles.

you glanced down at yourself, faking surprise before looking back at him with an innocent shrug. "what?"

his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. then, slowly but surely, the corners of his lips curled into the sweetest, most helpless smile. it was a smile that reached his eyes, making them sparkle with amusement and love.

"looks better on you than me, yeah?" his voice was soft, filled with warmth and affection.

"you're being biased," you laughed playfully, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

"i absolutely am." his response was immediate and sincere.

without another word, he crossed the room, his footsteps soft against the carpet. he leaned down just enough to press a soft kiss against your forehead, his lips warm and comforting against your skin.

"i don't think i'm getting that back, am i?" his voice was a murmur against your hair, his breath tickling your skin.

you smiled, a soft, contented sigh escaping your lips. "no."

"worth asking." his words were filled with resignation, but his eyes held nothing but love.

♡ jobe bellingham

"you can borrow it," jobe offered, his voice casual, as if he was talking about a pen and not his favorite hoodie.

"really?" your voice echoed with surprise, your eyebrows arching in disbelief.

"course." his response was immediate, accompanied by an unconcerned shrug of his broad shoulders.

jobe didn't think much of it then, the offer hanging in the air. it wasn't until you came from the staircase, his hoodie enveloping your frame, that the reality of his words hit him. the oversized sleeves swallowed part of your hands, the hem brushing against your legs as you smoothed the fabric over your body.

"does it look okay, baby?" your voice was hesitant, a soft whisper that barely filled the room.

jobe blinked, his gaze taking in the sight before him. his hoodie, which usually hung loosely on his athletic frame, seemed to transform into a blanket around you, making feel a strange sense of pride bubble within him.

then he grinned, a wide, toothy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made you laugh, a sound that echoed through the room like a sweet tune.

"you look like you've been nicking my clothes for years," he teased, his voice filled with amusement.

"i'll take that as a compliment," you answered playfully, your eyes shimmering with love.

"it absolutely is." his words were genuine, his gaze softening as he reached over to you.

he gently tugged at the collar of the hoodie to straighten it, his fingers brushing against your skin momentarily before he took a step back to admire his work. the sight of you in his clothes stirred something within him, a sense of familiarity and comfort that he hadn't anticipated.

"you know …" he began, his voice trailing off as he ran a hand through his curly hair.

"what?" you asked, your gaze fixed on him, curious and wondering.

"i might accidentally leave more of my hoodies lying around." his words were coated with a playful undertone, his lips curling into a grin.

"oh, accidentally?" you echoed, your voice filled with fake surprise.

"very accidentally." he responded, his grin widening as he watched your laughter fill the room once more.

♡ erling haaland

he strolled into the kitchen, his hands carefully holding two steaming mugs of tea. the scent of chamomile and honey carried through the air, mixing with the comforting scent of home. he paused in the doorway, his gaze landing on you.

"… hey," he called out, his voice a soft rumble that echoed in the quiet room.

you glanced over, your eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. "what?"

"turn around," he instructed, a hint of anticipation lacing his words.

"why should i?" you asked, your voice laced with amusement.

"so i can see the back," he explained, his eyes twinkling with a playful shine.

laughing, you nodded, spinning slowly on your heel, the large haaland 9 sprawled across your back came into view, stretching across the fabric of his jersey that you had on.

for a moment, he just stared, his gaze drinking in the sight before him. his heart pounded in his chest, a strange mix of pride and affection swelling within him.

then, a wide smile spread across his face, transforming his features. his eyes sparkled with delight as he chuckled. "that's brilliant."

"it's just your jersey," you shrugged, turning back to face him.

"no." he shook his head, setting both mugs down on the counter with a soft clink. he walked over to you, his steps slow and deliberate. "it's my jersey."

the pride in his voice made you laugh, a soft, sweet sound that echoed through the room. "you look far too happy about this."

"i am." his response was instant and loving. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. his other hand reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. "we need a picture."

"… right now?" you asked, your voice filled with fake surprise.

"right now." his words were firm, his smile not faltering.

five minutes later, after a rush of laughter and playful poses, he'd already made it his lock screen. the sight of you, wearing his jersey with a radiant smile on your face, was a memory he wanted to keep close.