#⠇ writings ⠇ ━━━ far too many notes for my taste

[d0llcuries]

ICE-CREAM FOR TWO

pairing(s): reiner braun x fem! reader

summary: you hated him for dragging you to marley, for every stolen chance at freedom. you expected the feeling to be mutual as you rented him for four long years but it wasn't. what better way to address this than ice-cream!

author's note: uh, i guess i write for aot now. blame my cousin and her insistence on getting me addicted to this stupid show for the possibility of inaccurate writing. i love reiner pls send requests for aot 🤲🏽

the market cradled you today in a way almost cruel, with its heat and grit pressing close, air thick with burnt coffee, iron on the breeze, syrupy traces of cotton candy and caramel inviting you into the hic et nunc, although you didn’t want to be. you hated this noise, this heat, the whole crowded mess of voices folding together like waves. you hated how it almost felt like home. you hated how you could almost trick yourself into calling it that if you tried hard enough. a mirror showing something soft, distant, something that could’ve been yours in some other life. no matter how warm the market held you, the truth settled somewhere beneath it all. this land is borrowed, marley is not home, and no amount of rose-tinted glass could change that.

under a washed-out sky, baskets burst with flowers like muted fireworks, children racing in loops, dogs tangled and nipping at their heels. you thought about reiner before you saw him. he was sitting across the square, shoulders hunched as if he were carrying every brick and stone of marley on his back, the same as he’d carried those in paradis. he looked like he was far away, somewhere only he knew how to reach. you still saw that ghost of the soldier you thought he was back then, before everything came apart.

you’d told yourself you wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t let him know that, after all this time, you’d never quite stopped noticing him. you wonder why you think of him so much, why he takes up all this space in your mind even when he's not near. it was strange how close you were and weren’t, your lives spooled together and then split, moth-eaten like old twine.

but then gabi’s voice broke into your thoughts.

“hey, yn! can you buy us ice cream, please? come on, it’s not far! the ice-cream stand's like.. right around the corner, and i haven’t had any in soooooo long!” gabi stretched out the ‘so long’ ensuring that you felt every inch of the ache that came from a whole season without the taste of frozen sugar. she practically sang, her sticky hand finding yours and pulling before you’d had a chance to respond.

before you knew it, you were standing at the old ice-cream stand, faded to a dull blue, the wood bleached and splintering under too many hot days. the vendor, an older man with sunburned skin and tired eyes, barely lifted his gaze as he rattled off the list of flavors available.

while you hadn’t chosen this home, you chose these people, or maybe they chose you in some inexplciable way. the days of resentment, the times you’d longed to be anywhere but marley, softened over time. gabi, falco, and udo, each of them with their bright, trusting faces had managed to bring out a warmth in you that you’d forgotten was there. you hadn’t planned to love them, but they’d worked their way into the little cracks between loneliness and anger, without effort or warning. it felt like love. you loved them.

“please, please, please?” gabi’s voice tumbled out, each please more insistent than the last. you pressed your lips together, trying to chase away the smile that wanted to break free, but there was no stopping it. the vendor cleared his throat, glancing at the line of customers that was growing behind you, and that pressure paired with gabiʼs nagging commenced the immediate collapse of any resolve you’d held and any remaining choice you had.

“alright, alright,” you murmured. “three, please,” you said, “two caramel swirls… and a chocolate.”

you pull the coins from your purse, and slide them across the vendor’s counter, a quick glance past the crowd where you know reiner’s somewhere out there, not close but close enough. you dig back into your purse, pull out enough for an extra ice cream, and place it on the wood. “and one more, vanilla.”

the vendor didn't blink. he handed you the cones with a practiced indifference, the soft edges already drooping in the heat, melting faster than they should. gabi snatched hers right away, giving a quick “thanks!” but not really looking at you. she didn’t need to, her appreciation was in her wide-eyed grin and the way she immediately started devouring the cone as if she’d waited years for it. udo took his with a quiet “thank you,” glancing at the cone like it was the first good thing he’d seen all day. falco gave a small nod, not meeting your eyes, as if the simple gesture was too much kindness to take all at once.

you glance at the extra cone in your hand, and you think about the boy—no, man—you had brought it for.

your gaze flickered to the square, and there he was, his silhouette made of pale, ghostly gold and all the fragments that cling to it. the blond of his hair catches and curls like a match struck in silence as he rests on the bench with moss staining its feet in a green kiss. “stay close. don't wander off,” you murmur to gabi and the boys, a mother’s instinct in a stranger’s affection. the market seems to swell as faces blur into patches of color and shadow.

usually heʼd be the one buying them the sweets, trailing behind like he belonged to the children, not the other way around. he’d slip coins to the vendor, barely seen, to make sure the kids stayed kids, get them something sweet to carry home sticky on their fingers. his presence made the kids feel safe. that was his gift to them.

he didn’t see you, not at first, lost in whatever he’d wrapped around himself, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes focused on something far off, his expression pulled into that mask of solemnity that’s so familiar it hurts. there’s a ghost of a frown in his brow from spending too much time thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. it was only when you were close enough that he looked up, startled, it was clear he wasn't expecting to see you. there was a tension in him, he sort of resembled an animal caught between choices, wanting to flee but rooted to the spot.

“i thought you’d want one,” you said, holding the cone out. it wasn’t often that you spoke to him this way, or at all. not about something as simple as ice-cream.

he stared at it first, then up at you. for a heartbeat you thought he might actually refuse it, let the ice-cream coat your hand with melted stickiness just to spite you for they way you resented him for the past four years.

“they give that to you for free?” he said, his eyes drifted somewhere just beyond the market stalls, like he was only half-invested in the jab.

something in his tone snagged, left a thin, invisible cut. he had every reason to say it, you supposed, but it still bruised in a way it shouldn’t. “no,” you shot back, trying not to let his offhand remark knock too hard against the satisfaction you’d felt just moments ago. “i bought it for you.”

with a breath soft as surrender, he looked up at you, and you could feel it, the way he saw you, had always seen you, from the days you were both cadets stumbling through ranks and routines. he’d always thought you were pretty, even when thought you didn't interact often.

the word devil was supposed to define you. reiner was trained to see you that way, to let a thick wall of prejudice stand between you both, forged over years of lessons and oaths. in marley, they pressed that word into people like you, used it to shape you into something repulsive. it was easy to believe it as a child, to see you through the war-stained images they painted, to think of you as something marley’s soldiers had been trained to conquer and devastate. but somehow, that wall never felt as solid with you. he tried to keep it up, you could tell from the way his gaze would shift from warm to cold so quickly, his jaw setting hard as if he was gripping some old lesson, forcing himself to remember why he wasn’t supposed to care. and you hated him for it as much as you didn’t. it was like he had stolen every sense of belonging from you, yet kept a fragile piece of it alive in himself, offering it back in little moments you refused to trust.

he’d always figured he’d have to wait, maybe forever for that forgiveness, if it came at all. for four years, he’d held onto the hope that one day you might look at him without that burning hatred in your eyes. over time, he’d let that hope slip through his fingers, learning to live in the shadow of what he thought he’d ruined.

but now, standing here, he felt something he hadn’t dared to let himself feel in a long time. the way you looked at him was different—not hardened or distant, but softened, like there was warmth in you meant just for him. it was subtle, but it caught him completely off guard, a look that lingered a little too long, the edges softening just enough for him to see something he’d once believed was lost.

he wanted to say something, anything, to reach out, but he found himself rooted, afraid to break whatever delicate understanding hung between you. he’s always been so careful with you, so mindful of your boundaries. your gaze didn’t waver, and he felt it like a quiet ache, as if, finally, there was a chance your view of him had changed.

he took the cone with hands that were larger than you remembered, rough and scarred and cracked in places. in his grasp, the small offering looked absurdly delicate.

“thanks.”

you settle on the edge of the bench beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but not quite touching.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice subdued, as if he was suppressing emotions that he couldn’t articulate.

“i wanted to,” you reply simply, the words soft but steady, a quiet confession hidden in plain sight. it’s not much, just a simple act of kindness, but it feels like more than that, like a tentative step toward something new, something neither of you quite knows how to name.

“i’m not good at this,” he admits after a long pause, the unexpected confession falling between you. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked on the melting drip tracing a path down his knuckle.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “good at what?”

he’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that the hum of the market seems louder, pressing in from all sides. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant. “being close. to anyone.”

you shift slightly, your knee brushing against his leg. it’s so slight it could be an accident, but it’s not. “well, you’re here now.”

he looks up at you then with an unconcealed reverence that makes your heart lurch in your chest, eyes softening around the edges, holding that mix of confusion and hope that makes him look almost boyish. “yeah, i am.”

the silence stretches, but this time it’s warm, inviting. you can see him wrestling with something, the way his jaw tightens, loosens, the way his thumb traces a line across the wood of the bench as if trying to ground himself.

“it’s strange,” he starts, eyes flickering to yours before darting away again, “this..” he nods to the space inbetween you, “feels like more than i deserve.”

your gaze lingers on him, and you swallow back the pool of savila resting on your tongue. “maybe we’re both not good at this,” you whisper, a shy honesty threading through your voice. “but i think we could be.”

he blinks. “you think so?”

“yeah,” you say, the word barely more than a breath but heavy with everything you mean. “i do.”

and for the first time in years, he lets himself believe it.

[valorums]

SHI’AL FROZE MID-STEP moments before both she and her companion were to enter her apartment, for a most DREADFUL thought had just crossed her mind. Cal was to be her JEDI PROTECTOR at the charity banquet later that same evening, but she wasn’t certain how much the Jedi Council had told him about the banquet itself.

⠀⠀ There will be ballroom dancing.

Not everyone can dance in a ballroom style.

⠀⠀“…hold on.” Shi’al began, her head snapping over towards Cal. “Do you know how to dance? As in … ballroom dancing?”

⊱⠀ … ⠀ @tapalslegacy requested a starter via askbox.

5. for  a  soft  starter.

[toytulini]

name some canonically nonbinary characters why dont you

[hwallazia]

BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT – 최산

synopsis . in which san discovers a new fetish while you ride him.

pairing . choi san & fem! reader

genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au, married!au.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 0,7k

DISCLAIMER! dom! san, sub! reader, sort of lactation (milk involved but not specifically sucking it from the source), nipple play, cow girl position, bulge kink, mocking, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, princess), too many moans and mewls, dacryphilia, basically san fucking the daylights out of reader (even though reader’s on top of him)

NIC’S NOTES yess, the title is based on billie’s lyric on “guess” how’d you know? <3 ;; also, i hate not having the time to write full-length stories so badly TT gotta survive with these little drabbles. so well, enjoy the meal babes !!

“put your back into it, yeah?”

his growl tingled your ear, hands reaching for his wide shoulders for support. you bounced up and down his length relentlessly, with no hesitation, no mercy. his hands found home in your hips which worked perfectly hard, fingers varying between lingering, fond touches and harsh grips on your flesh. your walls enveloped his cock in the most welcoming way, pulsating around him, giving him a taste of heaven.

“s-shut up,” your breathless whisper brushed his earlobe. “it’s hard when your husband has a fucking huge dick—“ you could almost continue your words. a strangled, loud moan intruding into your whiny complaint as he flattened his palm against your ass flesh, the sound of the harsh spank bouncing through the walls.

“just shut up and take it, baby.” he cooed at you mockingly, his recent action belying his honey-dripping voice, his lips finding their way up to your neck. cute love bites were spread all over the skin. “can’t be too hard now can it?”

your eyelashes swung the tears away by blinking once or twice, exhilarating pants rolled off your lips as beads of sweat were attached to your temple. you dropped your head back from the overwhelming feeling. eventually —when he grew far too impatient— he matched your pace, thrusting upwards and, therefore, reaching divine places.

“can’t do anything without my help.” his right found your bouncing breast and trapped it with his palm, his fingers immediately digging into the soft, almost pillowy flesh. “poor little princess.” he teased your nipple a little, sending to another wave of satisfaction as you melted into his touch. soon, a strange white liquid began to ooze out of the slit, resulting in san’s jaw dropping all the way down the floor, eyes wide open and dilated as he stared intently at the white essence, longing to get a taste of it oh-so-badly. the combination of his wife’s leaking tits bouncing right in front of him as his cock ramming into her insides formed a perfectly defined bulge was a sight for sore eyes. and he had the absolute pride to call it his, and only his to admire, to touch, to pleasure.

but you still were working hard on his dick, his hips still going up and down and providing him and you the most satisfying session. it wasn’t until you heard your husband speak that you realized what he was so immersed in. “fuck you’re leaking.”

“what do you mean—“ you questioned immediately and when you stared down at your sweaty body, your orbs twitched at the sight of your abdomen covered with drops of warm milk and san seemly falling in love with it. “oh my.”

you couldn’t understand why it happened right there and then, a swell of bashfulness drowning your senses and immediately stopping your movements to search for a towel or something to clean yourself up. but san paused your actions.

“what are you doing?”

“i’m sorry i’m just—looking for..” your sentence came out as fast as lightning and in parts, since you cut your words to reach for the nearest piece of fabric.

“i literally got you all covered with my cum yesterday and now you’re shy because of some milk drops?” he stated, leaving you frozen in your place. a strong blush inking your cheekbones cutely. he lifted your hips up a bit to immediately restart the game you left pending, his hard cock finding your tight, inviting hole. once again. where it belongs.

your immediate reaction was to scream, holding onto his abs to keep yourself from falling. the fast, restless pace your husband adopted pulled breathless gasps out of you, the loop of san’s name falling off your swollen lips like a mantra. his right hand abandoned your stuttering hip to meet your milk-covered nipple again, stimulating it by rubbing and pinching it. more essence and mewls poured out of you, walls compressing and pulsating frenetically around his cock as they swallowed the entire length almost sinfully. you were crying on his dick in less than a minute.

he chuckled, admiring the view. “what a shameless wife i have.”

| masterlist

[valorums]

WHEN ANAKIN'S HANDS BRUSHED against her skin to wipe away her tears, Shi'al's breath caught in her throat whilst her heart constricted PAINFULLY in her chest. Despite her best efforts to conceal her emotion, a quiet SOB escaped her lips. He was treating her with such wonderful gentleness — such compassion that she didn’t even deserve. Not after everything she’d done.

⠀ ⠀ Shi’al was trembling, and SO TOO did her once powerful voice tremble when she eventually spoke. “I did look into the Force” BARELY AUDIBLE were these words, choked out in a quiet whisper filled with unimaginable pain. She swallowed thickly, attempting in vain to quell the tsunami of turbulent emotions wreaking havoc within herself. “I did look into the Force, but I found nothing — could feel nothing. You were … I was …” Overcome with sheer HEARTBREAK, she shook her head, haunted eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment before fluttering back open. Why bother to explain this to him at all? Palpatine’s snide voice whispered within her subconscious, forcing Shi’al to take a deep, shaky breath. He won’t believe you. Your relationship is in a grave of your own making—

No. She has to try. There was a at last a glimmer of HOPE on the horizon, so close and so palpable that she could taste it. She’d never forgive herself if she let it slip away.

⠀⠀ ⠀”…I couldn’t feel you, and I was alone.” Here, she shook her head before continuing to speak. “Turns out that believing that lie was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life, and you know I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes.”

⊱ ⠀⠀ … ⠀@forcenexus

Anakin wanted to be the one to greet her with open arms. She was his Dyad, which was why the betrayal ran way deeper. It made him keep his distance. He could feel her through the Force even if his Force signature had remain hidden. Maybe in a glimmer of hope, he allowed her to feel him. His grief was probably the heaviest. Skywalker had mourned over what was. Days before the Empire became to be, he had bought a simple ring. One he hid in his belongings. Just another reminder that she turned away from him.

"You still believed." He was certain of that. "You thought I was so easily swayed or cut down? You thought that little of me?" The lines on his face showed his distaste for speaking it. Little had changed, but his features grew tougher because of the sun. His hair was a lighter brown. Almost the same sandy blonde hair he had growing up. "He what?" In his time here, he knew he had grown patient. A little too patient. Training over five younglings could do that to a person.

"Again, you thought me as weaker." He shook his head. What would come of this meeting? Anakin did not know. What Shi'al thought was likely not going to be easy for either one of them. "And you believed him. You could have turned to the Force to get your answer. I wasn't that far gone." No, he was the hermit he feared. One that was set on being alone and living his life on his own terms. He was a Jedi no longer. That part of him died years ago. The lessons he had taught were ones of survival. To keep a low head was what he taught his padawans and it was a lesson he had to learn as well. When he first came to the planet he had come blazing and drove the Black Sun along with the Hutts out.

Seeing her cry almost made him break. He hated himself in that instance. Hated that he could just hold her at a distance when she was all he had ever wanted. It made his eyes turn downward to the sand at his feet. The boots of a scavenger were there. Worn down from use and needing mending again, he noticed that it was a metaphor for his life. He was worn down and needed mending. He took a few steps after lifting his head. Steel blue eyes stared down in concern for the other. Skywalker stopped a foot or two away from her. He was just close enough to reach out with rough hands and wipe the tears from her face. "I think we all made mistakes. Force knows I made plenty of them during the war." Was there hope for him yet? For them? He certainly hoped so.

[tetzoro]

MESSY — ༉‧₊˚.

fr. zoro roronoa !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : zoro has always been a little messy, so what else do you expect when he gets to have his way with you?

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, prone bone, creampies, mentions of spit & sweat, light choking, use of pet names (pretty baby, messy girl), mentions of overstimulation, honestly it’s just filth. — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : needed to write this out because it haunts my mind. thank you for reading & enjoy !!!

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

zoro’s just so messy. it’s especially true when he drinks, the sake dribbling down his chin as he takes steady gulps of the liquid. always finishing by wiping it off with the back of his hand, and depending on how far gone he is — he’ll lick that right up too.

it’s hard not to let your mind wander when you see him like this. it’s a stark difference to the way he fights, concise with a strategy meant to take down his opponents swiftly. it’s even different than the way he can be with others. no, it’s something more pure, driven by instinct.

his tongue will dip out of his mouth, swiping his bottom lip to clean up any remaining sake before a barely noticeable smile blooms. but you see it — you always do. your ever observant eye on him has you knowing more about him that he would think.

they say curiosity killed the cat but you wonder if death could ever taste this sweet. maybe heaven was found with zoro between your thighs, sloppily running his tongue all over your clit, spitting and sucking on it like his life depended on it. acting like a man starved for the honeyed nectar only you can give him, making sure to consume every last drop, unbothered by how many times you’ve cum already.

or maybe heaven was found here — caged under his body as you lay on your stomach, his body pressed on top of yours as his overwhelming girth stretches you out more with each thrust he gives you.

it didn’t start in this position, not by a long shot. after a few rounds you had no choice but to fold into yourself. propping yourself up on all fours took a heavier toll the more orgasms you had. like a fawn learning to walk, your limbs gave out under you, falling flat onto the bed— but he didn’t stop, not that you wanted him too.

he stayed upright at first, both hands firmly set on your hips as he pulls you back onto him. even if you tried to squirm out of his hold, trying, begging to get a moment of reprieve, he can’t stop. your silken walls just felt too good wrapped around his cock. it hurtles you into another release, taking him down with you — literally.

so now, he has you in a little headlock to hold you in place, his bicep keeping a light pressure against your neck that made you see stars. you’ve lost all vocal control at this point, moans steadily flowing out of your mouth, mewling nonsense mixed with his name.

you can hear zoro speaking — feel the rumble of his voice against your back and shivering up your spine, but there’s no way you can process it right now. your eyes are rolled so far towards the back of your head you swear you can practically see the heaven you’re feeling right now.

his toned chest slides along your back, your bodies both slick with sweat from the intensity of his thrusts. every part of you feels split open by him, but you knew deep down he’d stitch you back together once he was through. he always did.

whatever he was saying before has died out into soft grunts, his lips practically kissing your ear as he presses further into you. everything felt too hot, too close, but your mind was too dizzy to care. his cock continuously pumping his own cum back into you as it kisses the spongy spot deep inside of you.

you claw and writhe against the sheets, your body trembling as your release sneaking up on you. again. you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum on his cock alone but judging by how disturbingly damp the sheets are, you’d say it was more than you could count on one hand.

and you just couldn’t stop shaking — your legs twitching under him, your fingers trying to find purchase in something, anything. it all felt too much, but you were right on the edge, ready to leap into the abyss knowing he’d always be there to catch you.

“gonna cum again f’me pretty baby?” he grunts out the question so close to you that you finally hear him.

he moves his arm from where it was lightly pressed against your neck as he starts to let up — his hand reassuringly grasping yours for a moment as you search for something to hold onto. he presses a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades, savoring the soft whimper you let out for him.

“please- ‘m so close!” you can barely choke the words out, each thrust he gives you has you gasping for air. you swear you can feel him all the way up in your lungs, whisking away every breath you take.

the other arm that he used to prop himself up slides down under your stomach to wrap around your waist, using it as leverage to go even deeper.

in this position, your swollen nub easily catches against the bunched up sheets that lay under you — and he knew it judging by the way he kept pushing you down against it. the game he was playing was unfair but you’d never tell him anything different, not when it felt so good.

“then cum.” he whispers, squeezing both of his hands on your supple skin as he continues driving himself into you.

with his blessing, you let go. the pleasure was mind numbing, your body locking up before releasing it in a sweet ecstasy that has you crying out his name. it didn’t take long for zoro to finish after that. frantically rutting into you, the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fills the room as you squeeze around his cock, desperately attempting to milk every last drop out of him.

seeing you almost helplessly confined under him had him moving even faster, watching as your body bounces against the mattress from the force of his thrusts as you fight against overstimulation, eagerly awaiting for him to fill you up again. and he’d never want to disappoint his baby.

he pushes all the way inside of you, letting out a strangled groan of your name as he finishes deep within you, finally giving you what you want. you weren’t sure how many times he had come either, but you could already feel it oozing out of your overused cunt and onto the sheets.

“always so messy.” he slurs, an ounce of pride in his voice as he lays on top of you. like he’s one to talk. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d let him have a piece of your mind. but instead, he’s gently turning you over and cradling you in his strong arms, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss against your sticky temple. he looks at you so softly the words die in your throat. he lets out a breathy chuckle, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “my messy girl.”

taglist : @fuyuaika @otoyastoy @ushiwhacka @margumis @oooohno @the-tenth-shadow @aeternussidera @strawberrystepmom

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public

His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be. 

Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried. 

You’re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance. 

Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.

You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.

You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.

“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”

“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.

Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”

“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”

You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.

“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.

“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.

With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.

“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”

“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.

No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.

“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”

Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.

“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.

“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”

“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.

You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”

“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.

You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.

“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn’t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.

“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.

“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”

“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.

“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”

He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford. 

As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself. 

You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you. 

“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”

You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself. 

But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.

His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.

You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.

You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.

You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.

“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”

“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”

Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately. 

Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”

You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”

You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”

You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock. 

You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”

You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…

“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down. 

You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.

His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control. 

You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.

Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”

You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.

Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.

“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.

“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket. 

His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.

He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.

You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress. 

“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.

You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”

Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.

“I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.

You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.

You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.

“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.

Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.

“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.

You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.

“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”

Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.

“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”

“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”

“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”

[lovelytsunoda]

naughty list // oscar piastri

summary: oscar's bored, horny and hopelessly smitten with his lover. but if he keep this up, he's going to land them both on santa's naughty list this year.

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

prompt: "let's both be naughty and save santa the trip."

warnings: soft smut, praise overload, christmas lingerie, oscar is a big simp, sex on a shag carpet, oscar 'if she's not enjoying herself, neither am i' piastri,

author's note: am i incapable of writing anything wholesome about this man? possibly.

oscar piastri was head over heels for his girlfriend.

perhaps that's how he got himself into this situation, on the couch by the fire on a cold london winter, christmas tree lit up behind the couch, tennis on the tv. fresh gingerbread cookies sat on the island, filling the ground-floor apartment with their familiar and warm scent.

y/n had slipped away just moments before, kissing his forehead and promising a surprise, her nervous giggle punctuating the end of the sentence as she slipped away to the bedroom.

a nervous giggle that made him wonder, if, perhaps, the surprise was a little on the naughtier side. his lover wasn't one for wild bedroom escapades, but the fact that she might have been trying to spice it up a little for him?

it drove him fucking wild. worried him slightly, yes, because he didn't want her to push herself too far out of her comfort zone if she wasn't ready, but excited him nonetheless.

meanwhile, in the bedroom, she was nitpicking everything, standing anxiously in front of the mirror as she twirled her hair. the red set stood out against her skin, and while the corset was almost no different than many of the shirts that she wore, she wasn’t sure how to feel about the lacy panties, leaving so much skin exposed.

she’d never been a lingerie person. she wished she could be, but even stepping into victorias secret sent her in a self-critical spiral. no, until now she had tended to stick to skimpy pajama sets, never as exposed as she was now.

she thought she was being ridiculous, oscar had seen her naked, for lords sake.

but even still, looking at herself in the mirror, she wondered if she should have picked the set with the silk robe.

she closed her eyes, counting to ten before she reached for the santa hat on the bed, pulling it over her head and dangling the pom pom on the end over her shoulder.

when she gently trod back into the living room, she cleared her throat to get oscars attention. the driver looked up from his phone, choking on his kale smoothie when he saw her. he promptly dropped his phone, getting to his feet and ambling over to her.

“y/n, love, you look stunning.” his touch was gentle, starting at her hands before running gently along her skin, index finger tracing hearts on her exposed side. “you’re so beautiful, and I’m happy you feel comfortable enough with me to let me see you like this. it’s a privilege I count myself lucky to have.”

she sighed into his touch, fingers messing with the lapel of his flannel. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his arms flexing sharply as his fingers continued to soothe her skin.

“I thought I’d try something new.” she said sheepishly, a blush rising on her cheeks. “you like it?”

“baby, I adore it.” oscar beamed, leaning in to softly press his lips to hers. she tasted like peppermint, and smelled like vanilla bean as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer. “my gorgeous girl.” he growled, biting gently on her bottom lip. “all mine.”

smiling sweetly, she pulled oscar closer, wrapping her arms around him and playing with the hair on the back of his neck, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek. the aussie hummed contentedly, his large, warm hands trailing over her back.

he was well and truly smitten.

she looked like a christmas angel, wrapped in red and white, the cutsey santa hat propped on her head. who knew santa hats could be so sexy on the right woman?

"i love you." he hummed, moving to gently kiss her neck, smiling to himself as she propped up on the tips of her toes, gasping softly as his tongue ran over her pulse point. "my darling, darling girl." he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "maybe i should dress up next time? get that whole magic mike kinda vibe going on."

she giggled, moving one dainty hand up to cover her mouth as she laughed. god, that laugh. oscar was getting painfully hard just listening to her giggle.

she stepped back, and oscar followed, gently pressing her up against the wall. she winced at the cold plaster pressing up against her smooth skin, but the discomfort was soon forgotten as her lover leaned over her, one hand bracing him against the wall and the other under her chin to tilt her face up. she beamed, trying to hold back her giddy giggles as she stared into his wonderous eyes.

"pretty girl, love of my life." oscar started softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "let's both be naughty and save santa the trip, aye?"

"that's your smoothest holiday line yet." she nodded with a laugh, enthusiastically pulling him closer to her, eliminating the space between their bodies as best she could. "i love you." she said quickly, pressing her lips to his as his hands began to rove her front, fumbling with the strings of the corset top.

she gently pushed his hands away, watching as his eyes grew three sized when she pushed the cups of the corset bra down, nipples pebbling in the cold air, silhouetted against she stunning red of her top.

"you'll be the death of me, sweet thing." oscar laughed, running his hands over her skin. "tell me what you want, pretty girl."

"you, oscar. touching me. kissing me." she sucked in a breath as he bent down, sucking a hickey onto her supple skin, his thumb gently running over her nipple. "making me yours."

oscar groaned, laving his tongue over her sensitive bud, one hand reaching to hold hers close. "sweetheart, just let me take care of you, yeah? give you exactly what you need." he detached from her breast, a line of saliva trailing from her bud to oscar's tongue. he used one hand to wipe his mouth before kissing the back of her hand. "give my sweet perfect angel the full princess treatment."

she smiled down at him as he sank to his knees, nuzzling his nose into the soft skin of her thigh, her fingers carding through his hair. "baby, you left one of the girls unloved." she playfully pouted at him, nudging her other breast. "you don't want the one on the left to think you love the one on the right more, do you?"

oscar laughed, rising to his feet before taking her left breast in his hand. "you're so right, love. wouldn't want one of the girls to feel underappreciated. i hope they know how loved they are."

"you're such an idiot."

"yeah, but you're the one who gets turned on by me acting like a complete and utter fool."

"shut up and kiss me, pretty boy."

"yes ma'am."

oscar kissed her, his hands slipping down to the globes of her ass, lifting her into the air. she squealed, wrapping her legs around him so he was carrying her like a koala, her fingertips gripping his still-clothed shoulders.

well, she couldn't have that. why was she the only one showing any skin?

he set her down on the shag carpet, warmth from the fire gently hearing her chilled skin, hair fanning out behind her head. oscar wasted no time, shedding his flannel and t shirt before he dove right in, wrapping his lips around the tip of her breast. she gasped, arching into him with one hand gripping the carpet and the other in his hair.

“atta girl.” oscar exhaled, sucking another hickey onto her skin. in his opinion, his job wasn’t done until her tits were covered in proof of his undying love. “that’s my pretty girl.”

“need you, baby.” she pleaded, grinding up against his jeans, the denim rubbing at her sensitive core through her lace panties.

she was so shamefully soaked after oscars devotion to her breasts, and she needed some kind of release. she was almost certain that there was a damp spot forming on her lovers jeans as she ground against him.

oscar leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of her panties.

“you look too pretty in this set to take it off, baby.” he hummed, kissing over the red fabric, nuzzling into her skin as he rubbed his thumbs over her hipbones. “might just have to push them aside, but they’ll get stained badly when I make you see stars.”

“jesus, oscar, just do something!” she groaned, running her finger along his nose. “please?”

“anything for my girl.” he pushed her panties aside, gently pressing his lips to her sopping wet center, his tongue darting out to trace a heart on her lips.

she moaned, throwing her head back, her pelvis rising off the carpet to try and build more friction against her lover. she moaned his name, eyes fluttering closed as she began to see the stars he had promised her.

she was so lucky to have a man like oscar. a man who made her feel so confident in herself, treated her like a queen, and made sure that she got the calm, quiet love that she craved.

“fuck, baby. you taste fucking incredible.” he groaned, holding her thighs open, thumbs rubbing reassuring circles on her soft skin.

oscar could have spent all day between her thighs. hed always been a giver, but when he had the chance to spoil y/n, he was almost certain it made him way hotter than it made her. what could he say, acts of service was his love language.

and when she wrapped her thighs around his head, practically screaming his name, his tongue licking fat stripes up and down her opening, and over swollen her swollen clit?

he had to start thinking about tyre degradation to avoid coming in his jeans.

“fuck, oscar, baby.” she whined, tugging on his hair as his nose nudged her sensitive bud. (he moaned at the action) “just like that. god, that feels so fucking good.”

she could feel the band in her stomach begin to tighten, her thighs closing in around oscars head as pleasure spread around her lower body.

oscars tongue darted in and out of her, the lewd sounds filling the room. “are you going to come for me, pretty girl. yeah? yeah, that’s right, come on my tongue, princess.”

he slipped a finger in, and the sensation of his finger flexing while his tongue played with her sensitive, puffy clit made her cry out, rutting her hips into his face, grinding against his finger and trying to get herself off.

“oscar, im coming!” she cried, the coil in her stomach finally snapping as she cried out his name, fingernails leaving scratches in the skin on the back of his neck.

his hands gripped her thighs; he was holding himself up over the carpet on his forearms, his body shaking she coated the bottom of his face in evidence of her arousal. he moaned at the taste, sitting up on his knees and catching her eyes before sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking the salty fluid off his finger.

she smiled at him, face rosy and flushed. her limbs felt like jelly, arms giving out underneath her as she tried to prop herself up to kiss him. chuckling to himself, oscar braced his hands on either side of her head, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, and then the tip of her nose before, finally, her lips.

“I love you.” they both whispered, one after another, the room silent save for the low hum of the tv and the crackling in the fireplace.

“baby, as much as I would love to stay here with you, I am absolutley throbbing and if I am not inside of you in the next five minutes, I am going to lose it.” oscar chuckled, kissing her softly.

she smiled, giggling as he ran his hands over her flushed skin. “you know you’re going to throw your back out if we do this on the floor, right?”

“yeah, but it will be so totally worth it.” oscar laughed, kissing her forehead softly. “stay right here, and keep warm. I’ll be right back.”

she hated to see him go, but she loved to watch him leave, eyes zeroing in on both his impressive back muscles and the way his jeans hugged his backside. how did she get so lucky to land such a god of a boyfriend?

when he vanished into the bedroom, she stripped out of the corset, cringing when she noticed the reddened imprints left on her skin from where the wires dug into her. she pulled the santa hat off, dropping it pathetically to the carpet before pulling a blanket around her shoulders. she was slowly regaining feeling in her limbs, a feeling of contentment spreading through her stomach as oscar came back, a festive box in his hands,

“right, so your choices are peppermint, gingerbread and eggnog.” he grinned, tossing her three small packages before slipping out of his jeans.

her limbs tingled as she watched him undo his belt, his rock-hard cock straining against his flannel boxers. it was only when oscar sat down next to her, stealing half of the white knit throw blanket to wrap around his own shoulders, that she looked down at the packages in her hands.

they were christmas themed condoms, a reindeer face smiling up at her from the gingerbread one. she couldn’t help it when she burst out laughing, sniffing the peppermint package.

“oscar! what the fuck?” she managed through laughter. “you know the flavoured bit only counts if I’m sucking your dick right? and that’s not happening tonight.”

“they were a gag gift from lando.” oscar laughed, fiddling with one of the foil packets. “I brought out normal ones too; I don’t know how much I trust these ones anyways.”

she laughed, leaning over to kiss him. “thank you.”

“anything for my girl.” oscar deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to gently and politely explore the inside of her mouth, pushing her down onto the carpet once again, thigh pushing her legs apart.

he grinded against her sensitive core, trying to find some sort of relief for himself while also making sure that he lasted more than a minute when he finally got inside of her.

her legs curled around his waist, pulling him him closer as they made out, warm and sweaty skin sticking to each other as they warmed up by the fire.

he didn’t even need to pull away to make a grab for the discarded red hat, only drawing back to put it on before he extracted his cock from his boxer shorts.

she giggled, sitting up so she could take him in her hands, jerking him slightly before ripping open a condom package (just a regular one, not the peppermint one she knew he had been eyeing).

laughing to herself, she twirled the end of the hat in her fingers. “I should not find this as hot as I do. just so you know.”

“duly noted. are you ready for me, princess?”

she smiled at him, slipping out of her lacy panties before she straddled him, his sheathed cock teasing at her entrance, shivers running up her spine. “I wanna be on top. wanna ride your cock.”

and who was oscar to argue?

he gripped her hips, her hands on his shoulders as he positioned himself by her entrance. she was so wet that he slid right in, her fingernails leaving crescent marks on his shoulders as she winced, hiding her face in his neck.

“I know, sweet girl.” he moved his hands up and down her back. “i know it’s a lot to take, but you’re doing it so so well. you make the first move, sweetheart.”

she straightened her back, touching her nose to oscars as she began to slowly grind her hips, getting used to every inch of his dick splitting her in half.

“that’s it, pretty girl. nice and easy.” oscar groaned, palming her ass. “that’s it.”

with oscars hands guiding her, she began to pick up the pace, pulling up before sinking back down against his cock.

“fuck, baby, feels so good.” she whined, fingers tugging at the hairs on the nape of his neck. “feels so deep.” she reached for his hand, pressing it to her stomach to show oscar just how deep he actually was.

“yeah? yeah, this cock is all yours, baby. whenever you want it, you tell me. I’ll drop everything to give it to you.” he grunted, one hand gently smacking her ass. she yelped, hips startling before she smashed her lips to his, moving her hips in subtle circles.

he moaned into her mouth, thrusting up to meet her hips halfway, watching as her mouth dropped open in a guttural moan. “you like that, sweet girl? yeah, you just let me take over and fuck you until you’re all blissed out.”

he took the lead, planting his feet on the floor, one hand supporting his weight and the other holding his princess close, her perky, sensitive nipples pressed against his chest as he thrust up, his cock sliding in and out of her like it was nothing.

“oh, yes.” she whined.

“that’s my pretty girl. that’s my fucking girl.” he growled, rolling over so he was on top again. normally he loves it when she rode him, loved the intimacy that came with it.

but he was so pent up that he needed something more.

he slipped her legs over his shoulders, muscles rippling as he leaned forwards to thrust into her, balls slapping against her skin.

her hands gripped his shoulders, slipping down his chest and leaving little pink marks in their wake as he pounded in and out of her, the pom pom on the end of his festive hat dangling in her face

“fuck, I love being like this with you.” he rasped, fingers digging into the shag carpet. “being this close to you.” he started to kiss up the side of her throat, tongue occasionally darting out to lick the sweat off her skin. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, all blissed out and at peace on my cock. love making you feel good, honey.”

he allowed her legs to slide off his shoulders, leaning down to kiss her, swallowing her moan as he bit down on her lip.

“shit, I love your cock, oscar. I love having it inside of me. needed it so bad!” she cried, clinging to his upper body as she let him have his way with her.

she knew he knew what she wanted, what she liked. he could read her like the back of his hand, and she was so blessed to feel safe enough with him that she could just clear her mind and let oscar make her feel good.

“that’s my girl. taking it so well. how are you feeling, princess?”

“perfect.” she breathed, inhaling sharply as his cock brushed up against her walls. “absolutley perfect.” her eyes slammed shut as her walls started to contract, squeezing oscar’s cock for all it was worth

“are you going to come, pretty girl? come all over my thick cock?”

“yeah.” she whined, tears of pleasure pricking the corners of her eyes as he kept slamming into her. “yeah, I’m almost there.”

she almost didnt get to finish her sentence, oscars lips claiming hers against his own as he kissed her deeply, one feee hand coming down to play with her clit. she gripped his biceps tightly, moaning harshly against his lips as she felt herself clamp down on him, seeing stars as she started to let go.

“that’s it, princess. let go for me, cover my cock in your sweet sweet come. give it to me, sweet girl. I’ve got you,”

she came with a cry of his name, feeling her body go weak as all her energy evaporated. the motion triggered oscar’s own orgasm, his entire body shaking as he grunted (arguably louder than she did, back muscles rippling as his body tightened and then went slack) spilling into the latex shield before his arms gave out and he collapsed against her.

“I love you.” he mumbled, kissing her softly before gently pulling out. he reached behind him for the blanket, tucking it around her body before sliding a throw pillow underneath her head. “hang tight for me, baby. I’m gonna go make you a hot chocolate.”

he slipped the condom off, balling it up with the intention of chucking it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen, pulling his boxers back on before washing his hands and pulling two mugs out of the upper cabinets.

y/n watched him from her position on the floor, a soft smile on her face as she marvelled at the scratches on his back, and the pure soft domesticity of watching her lover make her a hot drink after he made her see stars.

he came back minutes later, with two mugs piled high with whipped cream and a foolish smile on his face.

“merry christmas, pretty girl.” he hummed, kissing her softly, not expecting anything more than what it was.

“merry christmas, oscar.”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @twinkodium @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @oconso @sidcrosbyspuck

[galacticgraffiti]

✿⋅ Oh, to be Alone with You ⋅✿

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: I try my best to write inclusively. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned in her physicality but not described in detail. If anything escaped me, please let me know! Sorry I couldn't make this more gender neutral, but since this fic is a gift to @naariel I thought I'd use her pronouns. Warnings: dirty daydreams, yearning, lusting after someone, male masturbation, dirty talk, fantasy of PiV sex within the daydream, bath sex, this is written from Halsin's POV

⋆⋅ Inspired by this insane artwork by @naariel ⋅⋆

Author's note: I've been pondering, rotating and marinating this artwork in my mind for WEEKS. It haunts me in the best possible way and I am so happy Naariel gave me permission to reference her art! If you are not already following her, you definitely should - her skill and talent are infinite.

Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3

───── ⋆⋅✿⋅⋆ ─────

Oh, to be Alone with You

Halsin sighs when he finally sits down, long limbs sprawling on the too-small chair that can barely contain him.

Chairs. What superfluous oddities, where a big tree stump might have sufficed. If one has to make them at all, why not at least make them comfortable? Why not sit in the meadows, why not find a place to lay where the sun has warmed a rock that has been washed and polished by the rain? But no, the rules of the city demand he be contained within four walls instead of roaming free, they demand he bathe in a wooden tub instead of out in the wilds, they demand he wear clothes and be polite to people even as they trample the Oak Father’s creations beneath their boots without even stopping to look and enjoy nature’s gifts.

Halsin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache. It has been a long day and he is so tired. A long week. A long few weeks, if he is being honest with himself. In all these centuries, times have been- well-  rough, to say the least. But whatever haunts the Sword Coast now… it’s different. Bigger than the invasions of Goblins across the land, bigger than the Shadow druids, bigger even than the Shadow Curse that has occupied Halsin’s every waking hour for nigh on one hundred years.

At least, Thaniel and Oliver have been reunited, some life returning to the lands as it always should have been. A victory, chased for so long, tasting sweet only for a moment before the stale urgency of the matter at hand had seeped back into Halsin’s mind: Mindflayers infecting innocents, magic-infused tadpoles, an Elder Brain… There are too many battles to be fought, and not one of them to be won.

Halsin presses his lips together and tries to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. There are some good things that have come out of this: They have not lost a fight yet, and his newfound companions are… stimulating, to say the least. Fighting alongside them has been a joy and a privilege - watching their blades sear, their magic erupt, their arrows pierce their targets as the bear Halsin rips through flesh and bone. The fighting is necessary, and his companions are more skilled than he could have ever wished for. This day may have been hard, but it was successful nonetheless, and now he is here, freshly bathed and ready to find some rest for the night. If only it could be under the stars, far outside the city walls, he would almost call himself happy. Instead, he must bed down alone, encased by  too many walls and a too-small bed frame.

Halsin misses the smell of grass that has not been trampled by hundreds of boot-clad feet, he misses the feeling of bark against his fur, he misses his wildshape and trodding through calm forests instead of bloodied battlefields. He misses air that is crisp and clean and doesn't smell of artificially molten metals. He misses the Grove, he misses Thaniel and he misses the woods. The city has been forsaken by Silvanus, and even if this place is a small oasis of nature, it is not the same as being out among the Oak Father’s creations.

He cracks his neck, his hair tickling his collarbones. Halsin curses quietly to himself, pushing a curl behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair - it’s getting too long. And he needs to braid it again, his plaits are all out of sorts. It might be a hassle to do it without a mirror- but maybe he could ask-

No.

Shaking his head as if to will the thought away, he slumps into the discomfort of the chair a little more.

No, he shouldn't ask her anything. Nothing that would involve her hands on him, at least. Certainly not her fingers buried in his hair, tugging softly, her voice gently commanding that he tilt his head a different way. He can’t ask for that. It would only lead to him asking for more:

More of her hands on him, more of her skin against his, more than innocent touches and whispered goodnights across the campfire. He would ask for everything: To bury himself inside her until the world fades away, to devour her until she is slick with sweat from the pleasure he brings her. To be the keeper of her heart, just as he yearns for her to be the keeper of his.

Halsin can feel the familiar tightness in his back as the golden shimmer of his wildshape travels up to his shoulder blades. One thought of her, and already the bear stirs.

He remembers everything that happened today, even as he tries so hard to think of something else:

He remembers the way she smells, of sweet berries, blood and leather. He remembers her looking up at him, as her fingers clutch her weapon tightly. He remembers the fire in her eyes after the slaughter, the glow in her cheeks when she turned around to look at him and found only the bear. He remembers how she smiled at him, even after all that violence, a smile like the sinking sun, bloodied and red, but more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed up.

And as the day progressed: Her arm bumping into his, her head tilting up when she asked him a question and wanted to read his expression. How her hands slipped around him to reach for some food at the campfire earlier when they rested. Her sweet breath on his face and a mumbled excuse when she walked into him, still drowsy with sleep. And all Halsin wanted to do was pull her into his lap and bury his nose in the crook of her neck and forget about the world, forget about everyone watching, and have her, right then, in that moment. Have her all to himself, make her his very own. To feel her around him, to show her the depth of his affection, the desperation of his desire, the magnitude of his commitment.

All he wanted in that moment - all he still wants - is to touch her, to feel her in ways that he cannot ask for because he is scared she will not want the same thing he does. Halsin wants to lick the sweat off her skin, he wants to be buried between her thighs whenever they can steal away, even for a few minutes, he wants her taste on his tongue when he fights, and to wrap himself around her when they sleep.

The force of his own thoughts makes Halsin shudder, glowing desire stirring deep in his belly.

Her tongue in his mouth, his hands on her skin: How soft she would be against him. How wonderful to hear her voice break when she cries out for him, how she would taste if he could lick her off his fingers, the honey of her thighs, the salt of her sweat. He would give anything to know the expression on her face when she is lost to mindless bliss- he would give everything to know that he is the cause of it.

A low moan escapes his throat then, and Halsin presses his lips together when his mind returns from memory and sweet imagination to this house in the midst of a bustling city. This is not nature, where he can do what pleases him when it pleases him. No, the city - ‘civilisation’ as they call it - comes with rules, expectations, limitations.

He is in someone else’s home, exhausted from the day, the blood barely washed off his skin. And yet, all he can think about is… her. All he can feel is the constriction of his clothing, the confinement of leather where he longs to be touched. He wants to shed like the bear sheds his fur after the winter, he wants to feel free again.

Halsin hums, breathing deeply, willing away the golden sparks of his wildshape that dance along his fingertips. He listens intently, fingers dancing across his thighs, drumming an impatient rhythm.

Nothing in the house stirs. Maybe they are all gone still, running their errands, finding bath houses, visiting old friends and merchants they used to know before they return here for a long night’s rest. Maybe Halsin can have a small pocket of time to himself. Time to dream himself away, to give in to the desire he has harboured for so long.

Maybe… he could use this opportunity to release some of that tension that has settled deep in his belly. Refocus his attention. Maybe it’ll be for the best- not to think of her constantly anymore, not of her smell, or the colour of her eyes, of the way her fingers linger on his for a moment too long whenever they touch, or how much he wished they could have bathed together when he sank into the tub earlier that night.

The city has many downsides, but baths are one of the few things to enjoy. Hot springs are wonderful, but few and far between. Nature provides: The bear does not mind the coldness of a stream in the woods, or the iciness of a mountain lake. But there is nothing like a steaming bath to help prevent the sore ache that settles in his bones after a fight.

If only it was acceptable to ask her if she would join him. If only it had been her hands washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin, brushing his hair, kneading tired muscles, her hands much smaller than his, but strong and determined. Loving.

Halsin lets his head fall back, spine cracking as he settles in the small, uncomfortable chair, spreading his legs to cup his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it…

She glistens in the dim light, thin streams of water trickling down her skin when she emerges from the bath, her lashes stuck together as she beams at him.

“Mhh, we should have done this ages ago!”

“I could not agree more, my heart.” Halsin loves seeing her like this. She looks happy, like she has not a care in the world.

She crawls up into his lap, settling on him, her thighs bracketing his. Her hands run across his chest, lathering him in soap that smells of lavender and thyme. Halsin’s heart is beating in his throat when she leans in to kiss his collarbone, her lips soft, her hair smelling of smoke and flowers as it always does.

Desire surges inside him, crackling like lightning in his veins, and he sends the bear away, far away. This is a moment he wants for himself: Skin against skin, tongues exploring, hands intertwined. This is no place for fangs and claws, not tonight. Halsin unlaces his trousers with steady fingers, though even those few seconds seem unbearable to him. When his hand finally wraps around his cock, he breathes a sigh of relief, only to feel dissatisfied moments after. He wants her hands, her eyes on him, her voice dripping with lust. For now, his imagination will have to do.

He dreams himself back to the bath, thinking of all he could have had, if he had only had the courage to ask.

Her skin is burning hot against his, her fingers leave a flaming trail wherever she touches him.

“Is this alright, my love?” Her voice is full of concern and affection, as it always is when she asks about his comfort and well-being.

“More than alright.” Halsin’s breaths grow shaky when she moves her hips, shallowly grinding down against him. “Gods, I want to-”

“Mhhm?” There is a curious twinkle in her eye. “What is it you want? Tell me. I’m sure I could make your dreams come true.”

Halsin shifts when the wooden backing of the chair digs into his back as he bucks his hips, fucking into his hand that is wrapped around his cock - a poor substitution for what - for who - he really wants.

A growl rings out in the empty room when he closes his eyes and imagines her again.

Her thighs look so lovely, spread wide so he can fit between them. She smells of the bath salts and of herself, and her voice talks to him through the thick fog of his desire.

“I know what you want, don’t I, bear? I’ll take such good care of you if you let me. I’ll make sure you don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll let you taste me, whenever you want- wherever you want. I’ll help you focus- you can focus on me, can’t you? There you go…”

Halsin is panting, his hand moving faster.

She feels good, so good when she sinks down on him, wet with arousal and so willing to take him.

“You, little flower, are the jewel of nature’s creation,” he mumbles. “You are all I could ever want and more. I want to taste you on my tongue, always- for there to never be a day where I won’t know the way you drip for me- for you to never go a day without being satisfied, without feeling loved and cared for. Your happiness is all I want- your ecstasy all I desire. Let me take care of you.”

She moans, her head falling back as she starts to roll her hips, taking him deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“I’ll take care of you as you do of me,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure to provide for you all you could ever need or want. You give and give, let me give you everything I am in return. Be selfish, bear. Take what you want, swallow me whole, devour me without worrying whether it’s too much. I want you to. Mark me- make me yours. Tell the whole world I belong to you, whichever way you desire.”

Her movements are desperate now, her words only sighs and moans, breathless as she buries her head against his shoulder. Halsin inhales the scent of her hair, sinks into her words as the fog of lust that has settled on his brain grows thicker and heavier, until there is not a thought left on his mind but her.

“Halsin-” Gods, his name sounds so sweet off her tongue. “Halsin, I want you to fill me. Please- please, I want to feel full with you, today and every day you’ll fucking let me. I want to fight knowing you are still dripping down my thighs, I want to kiss you under the stars and know I’ll never be without you again.”

The curses that are falling from his lips are ungodly, but Halsin does not care. He is desperate now, mouth open as he calls her name and thinks of the words he wishes he could hear her say.

“Come for me, bear. Come inside me, lay claim to me as only you ever could- f-fuck- make me yours- please- Halsin, I’m yours, I’m yours and yours and yours, as long as you’ll have me- forever if you want to-”

With a cry of her name on his lips, Halsin gives in to pleasure and lets himself be overtaken by a wave of bliss. His thighs tremble as he spills over his hand, sticky warmth dripping from his fingers. He does not open his eyes. Not yet. He wants to stay in the fantasy just a moment longer.

“Halsin, I-”

His eyes open, blood rushing to his cheeks as he returns to the real world and finds her standing in the doorway.

I'm going fucking feral. Running into the woods hoping to find him there, who's with me -

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[theostrophywife]

SWEET TOOTH

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🤍 pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: so american by olivia rodrigo.

🤍 author’s note: just a cute and fluffy little piece because enzo gives off major boyfriend vibes.

It was a well-known fact that Lorenzo Berkshire had a terrible sweet tooth. 

So well known that his mates often hid their stash of sweets from him. Not that it deterred Enzo. If anything, he saw it as a challenge of sorts. 

As Lorenzo ransacked his roommate’s belongings, it should’ve occurred to him that Regulus was far too clever to leave his candy in plain sight, but his attention was focused solely on stuffing as many chocolate frogs into his mouth before his surly friend returned. In his haste, Enzo failed to notice the strange metallic taste until practically inhaling his third frog. 

Still, he figured that it was probably fine. How much damage could a chocolate frog do anyways?

Unfortunately for Lorenzo, that pesky little question would be answered soon enough. 

After carefully rearranging Reggie’s things, Enzo happily skipped off to breakfast. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he spotted you in the Great Hall. With a murderous expression, you swiped a chocolate croissant out of Mattheo’s reach and glared at the curly headed boy. 

“Make one more move towards my food and I’ll snap your arm like a twig, Riddle.” 

Theo snickered and draped an arm over your shoulder. “Come on, bella. Mattheo just wants a taste.” The twat wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And so do I.” 

You flicked his arm off and rolled your eyes. “For the last time, I’d rather gouge my eyes out, Theodore. You’d think you’d be sick of rejection and embarrassment by now.” 

Nott merely smirked. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Could’ve woken up in mine instead, if you stopped playing hard to get.” 

“Keep pissing me off and you’ll wake up to a bed full of cockroaches.” 

Mattheo cackled before ruffling your hair. “Turn that frown upside down, Y/N. Guys don’t like a grump.” 

“I do,” Enzo blurted before he could think better of it. “I think Y/N’s cute when she’s mean. Especially to you two idiots.” 

Theo and Mattheo gaped, their gazes pinballing from you to Enzo. They were no doubt expecting you to smack your best friend upside the head, but instead you shrugged and bit back a smile. 

“Really?” Theo remarked incredulously. “You’re letting that slide? You threatened to tie my tongue into a bow the last time I called you cute.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well, Berkshire doesn’t annoy me as much as you do.” 

Enzo beamed as he slid into the seat beside you. “Wow, I feel special.” 

Clearly, he was well aware of the sweet spot you had for him. Though you’d never admit it. Just like he’d never admit his long standing pathetic little crush he had on you. Except, he did sort of slip up just now, which he unfortunately would continue to do for the rest of the day. 

Lorenzo couldn’t help it. The compliments he normally kept to himself just kept spilling out of him. 

When you were studying in the library during free period, he found himself speaking thoughts that he usually saved for his inner monologue. “I like the way you scrunch your nose when you read. It’s adorable.” 

Surprised, you peered up at him from your book. His words were rewarded by an uncharacteristically shy smile. It was enough to make him momentarily forget his lack of control over his mouth.

Later in History of Magic, Lorenzo stared at you instead of focusing on completing the assignment in front of him. You tapped his nose with the end of your quill playfully. 

“You alright there, Enz?” 

“You’re so beautiful, it’s distracting. I can’t even focus on my notes.” 

You flushed in response and Enzo found that he rather liked making you flustered for a change. Maybe a case of loose lips wasn't so bad after all. 

During lunch, Lorenzo glared at Draco as the blonde asked you a question about the Draught of the Living Dead potion. 

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, cousin?” Draco asked after a moment. 

Enzo continued glaring at him and inched closer to you, draping a protective arm around your shoulder. “Look at Y/N like that again and I’ll turn you into a ferret myself.” 

The other boys snickered while Draco backed away from you. His brief stint as a rodent clearly traumatized him enough to balk at the threat. You turned away from the recounting of the infamous fourth year incident and faced Enzo. 

“Are you feeling alright, Enz? You’ve been acting strange all day.” 

Come to think of it, Lorenzo did feel a bit different. Unfiltered, unadulterated, and perhaps a tad bit unhinged. Oddly enough, it was freeing in a strange sort of way.

“I’m fine. I’m just saying what I’ve been thinking all along. Usually, I’m too scared to speak my thoughts out loud, but I’m not now.” Enzo scrunched his nose. “Also, the chocolate frogs I stole from Reg tasted kind of funny.” 

Before he knew it, you were marching right into the boy’s dormitory with him in tow. He shuffled hurriedly behind you as you yanked open the door to his dorm. Regulus lounged at his desk, flipping through the pages of his book and not bothering to look up as the two of you barged in. 

“Learned your lesson yet, Berkshire?” 

You frowned as you snatched the book out of Reggie’s hands and threw it over your shoulder. “What the hell did you do to him, Regulus?”

Regulus shrugged nonchalantly. “Slipped a bit of Veritaserum in my chocolate frogs because I knew the little weasel had been secretly stealing them behind my back.” 

“Hey!” Enzo exclaimed. “That’s rude.” 

“Is that why he’s acting so strange?” 

The youngest Black leveled an amused glance at you. “Define strange.”

“Well, he’s been complimenting me all day. He even threatened to turn Draco into a ferret for looking at me. It’s like he has no filter at all.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Veritaserum makes you tell the truth.” 

You paused, taking in his words. “So everything Enzo said today…” Enzo smiled brightly as you glanced warily at him. “He means it?” 

Regulus nodded in confirmation. “Mhm, I’m afraid young Lorenzo has a little crush on you.” 

“Hello?” Enzo exclaimed. “I’m literally right here.” He turned to face you. “Also yes, I do have a crush on you. I have for ages. I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t noticed. I’m not that great at hiding it.” Your jaw dropped as he pivoted back to Regulus. “You’re a twat for dosing my candy, Reg.” 

“Your candy?” Regulus huffed. “I bought that with my hard earned money.” 

“You mean your allowance that mummy and daddy sends you every month? Please, Reg, you have more galleons and candy than you know what to do with. Honestly, it’s a bit selfish not to share.” 

Before you could put a stop to it, Regulus launched himself at Enzo. The boys wrestled, smacking and taunting each other like toddlers. With a frustrated sigh, you pried the two of them apart. 

“You two are honestly ridiculous.” 

Enzo pushed Regulus off of him and brushed off the front of his shirt. “Yes, but hopefully you find it cute and endearing, right? Well, me. Not Reg. I don’t really think you’re into the whole tortured poet thing he’s got going on.” 

Regulus glared at his friend. “Rude!” 

Enzo shrugged. “What? It’s true. Don’t worry, it works for some people. I think that redhead in Gryffindor likes you, but you’ve got to stop being so goddamn oblivious. She obviously wants you to break her back like a glow stick.”

“Lorenzo!” 

You smacked your best friend on the arm for his rather candid commentary, but it was half-hearted. You were too busy trying not to burst into laughter given the fact that he was completely correct. Said redhead definitely had a thing for Regulus. 

“I’m just stating facts. Anyways, if he didn’t want to hear it, he shouldn’t have dosed me.” 

You tugged Regulus by his tie. “You did this to him. Now you’re going to help me get this under control. Do you understand?” 

Regulus sighed in defeat. “Fine.” 

For the remainder of the day, you kept a close eye on Enzo. Though you and Regulus were both babysitting him, your best friend didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed rather thrilled with spending the rest of the day by your side. Truth be told, you didn’t mind either despite the fact that you had to pull Enzo out of a sticky situation more than once. 

As you watched him during quidditch practice, you nearly fell out of the stands when Lorenzo cocked his head at his captain and narrowed his eyes. “Flint, why is your head shaped like that?” 

It was by sheer luck that Regulus swooped in to save the day and promptly dragged him off to perform drills at the far end of the field. At the end of practice, you thought it would be safe to lounge in the common room, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Enzo snuggled to your side, his slightly damp hair tickling your neck. The familiar scent of citrus and cedar distracted you momentarily as he stared at Tom. The older Riddle was currently hustling Theo through a game of chess. 

“Tom, even though you scare me, I still think you’re hotter than Mattheo. Just don’t tell him I said that.” 

The entire room fell into a hush as Tom directed his smoldering gaze towards Enzo. You tensed beside him, fingers curled protectively around his arm. 

Finally, Tom spoke. “It’ll be our little secret, Berkshire.” 

“Salazar save us all.” 

When dinner rolled around, your fight or flight response was completely shot. Thanks to Enzo’s current condition, you were on constant alert. 

By now, the boys were perfectly aware of his inability to lie and the twats found his predicament particularly hilarious. All except Mattheo, whose ego had taken a hit after Theo told him all about Enzo’s confession to Tom. 

“I can’t believe you think Tom is hotter than me,” Mattheo grumbled. “That’s just completely mental.” 

Theo pinched his cheek. “Don’t worry, Matty. I’ll always think you’re hotter.” 

“How can you two flirt at a time like this?’ You sighed exasperatedly. “One of your best friends is under a truth spell and all you care about is being the hot brother?” Mattheo protested, but you held a hand up to halt whatever stupid remark he was itching to say. “Where is Regulus? I should wring his stupid neck for putting poor Enzo through this.” 

“I think he’s talking to that Gryffindor,” Theo said with an eyebrow wiggle. “Finally. Maybe dosing Berkshire wasn’t so bad if it gets Regulus laid.” 

As if on cue, Enzo snapped his fingers in front of Draco’s face. “Cousin, you really need to lay off the bleach. I think it’s seeping into your bloody brain. You’ve been staring at Granger so intently that it’s starting to freak her out.”

The boys snickered as Draco snapped out of his trance. Before the blonde could reprimand his cousin, you stood up and grabbed Enzo’s hand. Your best friend grinned as he linked your fingers through yours. 

“Oh, we’re holding hands. This is nice,” Enzo shuffled to his feet as you tugged him out of his seat. He didn’t seem to mind being dragged out of the Great Hall. “Hey, have I ever told you that your eyes remind me of the sunset? You’re pretty. I really want to kiss you.” 

You pointedly ignored the kissy faces Mattheo and Theo were making. “We’re leaving. Let’s go, Enz.” 

Enzo waved to your friends and grinned. “I hope we make out.” 

The boys snickered as you turned beet red. “Lorenzo!” 

“Yes, dear, coming!” 

With the promise of an impromptu movie night, you managed to coax Enzo back to his dorm. He shuffled in your lap, nuzzling into your touch as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Reg says the serum should wear off in an hour, so you just have to hold off until then.” 

“Oh,” Enzo said with a tinge of disappointment. “That’s a bummer. It’s kind of nice just saying whatever was on my mind.” 

“Enz, you told Theo he smelled like day old lasagna and then you hit on Tom. Tom!”

Enzo’s honey eyes blinked up at you. “What? He’s hot. You’re telling me you wouldn’t hit on him too?” 

You shook your head. “Psychopathic maniacs aren’t really my type.” 

“What’s your type then?” You fell silent for a beat before Enzo nudged your elbow with his nose. “C’mon, it’s only fair. I’ve been making a fool out of myself all day. Grant me this one, love.” 

You sighed, knowing that you’d cave to his puppy dog eyes. “I do have a crush on this one guy.” 

“What’s his name? Enzo asked as he sat upright. “His house? His dorm number? I might ask Tom to hunt him down for me.” You glared at him in response, causing him to raise his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Blame the serum.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “To answer your very nosy questions, he goes by a nickname, he’s in Slytherin, and we’re currently in his dorm.”

“Oh my god. The emo act worked on you, too?” Enzo smacked his forehead in distress. “For fuck’s sake!” 

“It’s you, you idiot. I like you.” 

Enzo beamed. “Thank Godric! This is the happiest day of my life.” He bounced as he talked, eyes shining brightly. . “Do you want to go on a date with me? We could go to Hogsmeade. Wait, no. That’s not good enough. Let’s go to London. Or Paris. Fuck it, I’ll borrow Malfoy’s jet.” 

You giggled at how ridiculously adorable this boy was. “Enz, slow down! First of all, I’d love to go on a date with you. Hogsmeade is perfectly fine, but we should probably wait until you’re back to normal.” 

Enzo sighed. “Fine. I suppose I can wait. But you’re staying to  cuddle, right?” He flashed those honey eyes at you again, perfectly aware that you couldn’t resist him even if you tried. To add to his plea, Enzo jutted his bottom lip into a pout. “Please?” 

“Sure, Enz.” 

With a triumphant grin, Enzo pulled you against him. He leaned forward to kiss your cheek, making you melt. As you continued watching the movie, you couldn’t help but revel in the affection Enzo showered you with. He was a great cuddler and he smelled nice and oh gods you really, really liked him. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Enzo murmured against your ear. “Mostly because I can’t, but I definitely have a boner right now.” 

“Lorenzo!” 

You burst into a fit of giggles, which caused Enzo to laugh as well. He only snuggled closer, burying his face into your neck. “Sorry that I find you super hot and pretty and cute. Honestly, I’m the victim in this situation.” 

You smacked his arm. “Oh my god, just shut up and cuddle.” 

Enzo grinned as he wrapped his arms around you. “Yes, honey.” 

[valorums]

          @forcenexus      said;        “You are dangerous desire, and I am your prisoner.”

╰►      SOURCE:        forbidden love and starcrossed quotes

SHI’AL SWALLOWED THICKLY, deeply flattered by Anakin’s proclamation but nonetheless FIXATED upon a single word. The comment was undoubtedly meant to be ROMANTIC; however, she could not avoid the all-consuming REIGN of unexpected insecurity upon her aching heart.

         “…a prisoner?” Shi’al echoed hollowly, taking a step back from her lover. “I apologize, then.” Her voice was soft, to the point that it became barely audible. “I don’t … I don’t want to make you feel that way, Anakin.”

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

SCAREDY CAT

KINKTOBER DAY 14 - PET PLAY WITH JONATHAN CRANE

Pairing.| Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary.| You are Catwoman, you’ve heard word of Scarecrow’s fear toxin and want it for yourself. However he had already anticipated this and desired a kitten of his own.

Warnings.| Dubcon, p in v, head f!receving, rough sex. scratching, pet play (not extreme), stockholm syndrome, abduction, drugging, pet names.

Word Count.| 2.3k

Notes.| I really did have the most fun writing my Jonathan stories, I won't lie. But this one is for you my love, @paradiseprincesss

Jonathan huffed as he slammed the door behind him, He shook his damp, dark hair, droplets of rain sprinkling onto his clean floors and walls as he slid off his coat. After a long draining day at work, there was only one thing that could make him feel better. Relaxing with his kitten. But returning home always started off as a game of hide and seek.

As he called out your name, his voice echoed down the hall. There was never a blissful response from you. After taking off his shoes and neatly placing them by the door, Jonathan picked up his briefcase and wandered down the floorboards in search of you. “Here, kitty kitty” Jonathan clicked his tongue as he dropped his suitcase on the kitchen table. 

Poking his head around many rooms, he ended up in his office, smiling as he spotted you from the gap under his desk. Not wanting to frighten you, he called out your name calmingly. Turning the corner, he poked his head underneath his desk. A wide cheshire cat smile grew on his lips. “There you are kitten” Jonathan chuckled at you, his head tilted and blue eyes wide as he looked down at you.

Once upon a time, you were the infamous Catwoman of Gotham City. The rumors of a mad Doctor possessing an anxiogenic drug which induces intense irrational fear to its users felt too good to be true. In Gotham City, you had too many enemies. Getting your paws on that toxin would literally scare those enemies far away. 

The plan was foolproof, break into his office and still a couple (or more) of doses. Arkham Asylum was a nuthouse, the Doctor would never have any time to reside in his office, surely. But, your accomplice ratted you out for an easy paycheck. Turns out that the Doctor of Fear admired your work immensely, and found joy in you wanting a taste of his fear toxin, so he obliged in that personally. 

Jonathan kept you in a hidden room in the asylum for weeks, months even. His other patients lacked treatment on his behalf, because he was too obsessed with experimenting with you. However, when he’d return home after a long day, he found himself missing you. The big house he comfortingly slept alone in, suddenly felt empty. So, he trained you to act more domestically for him. This way he’d be able to focus on his other areas of work and feel the gleeful emotions of coming home. 

Therefore, you were curled up into a ball up against the wooden boarding as you batted your glossy eyes at him. Wearing nothing more than a short black skirt, cropped white blouse and black collar with a clear jewel dangling from it. The heating wasn’t on so Jonathan pouted his sympathy for your coldness as your body shivered. He should have dressed you warmer for today. 

With his hand out towards you, as if you call you towards him, Jonathan made kissy noises. Fingers rubbing together, Jonathan tilted his head forward, a warning for if he had to crawl under to get to you. Gradually, you got on all fours and crawled out from the desk.

“Let’s take your medication” Jonathan announced as he opened his arms for you. 

Timidly, you reached out for him and he lifted you up, your legs wrapped around the small of his back as he carried you to the kitchen, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he hummed in satisfaction. His hand rested just below your bare ass, Jonathan didn’t want you to ever wear panties. 

Placing you on top of the island in the kitchen, he pulled a key out of his pocket for a locked hanging cabinet. He unlocked the door and retrieved a small white plastic pill container. To accompany your medicine, he grabbed a fresh water bottle from the fridge and cracked it open. Willingingly, you drank from the water bottle and slipped the blue pill into your mouth, swallowing it after a few seconds. Cautiously, Jonathan inspected your mouth, nodding his head with a wide grin of satisfaction afterwards. 

He didn’t want to, but he had to keep you drugged up. Because one time you almost scratched his eyes out. The faint scar on his left cheekbone can prove that. Even though Jonathan admired your robustness, he couldn’t risk going to work with a clawed up face everyday. So, he produced a unique sedative mixed with a sliver of fear toxin to keep you physically delayed like a fat cat. But mentally on all four paws, just like a scaredy cat. 

The variation of the fear toxin was intriguing however. Whenever Jonathan displayed negative emotions towards you, his figment would appear sinister. Yet, if he was warm towards you, the illusion of him would urge the thought of being looked after by him. 

Jonathan looked at the cat bowl on the floor, still full of the food he filled it with this morning. Slowly his eyes turned back onto you and you hid your face in between your hands. His fingertips slipped underneath your collar as he pulled your neck closer to him. 

“You haven’t eaten today, kitten?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow at you, sighing softly in disappointment. 

“The medicine rids my appetite” you mumbled, your voice hoarse due to a lack of speaking. Sniffling at him, you felt the fresh dose of fear toxin prick at your nerves. 

“Bad kitty, what did I tell you?” Jonathan tutted towards you, his voice turned sinister as the toxin took effect. 

“But it makes me feel sick” you whimpered back, blinking your prickling eyes at him. 

“Because you haven’t eaten properly in days” he shot back harshly, his white fangs flaring at you. It was the toxin, but you always struggled to see the lining between real and illusion.  

However, it was more so weeks, months, since the moment of your abduction really… This new accidental diet of yours has made you drop a fair amount of weight. The drugs suppress your appetite frequently, not that you were ever keen to be on all fours as you ate below him. 

You tried to slip off the bench, a growing urge to satisfy him by forcing the food down your tightening throat. But Jonathan blocked you in between him with his arms. 

“No, no… It’d be stale and sickening now. Gonna have to wait until dinner time kitten” Jonathan explained, his nose running up your neck slowly as he inhaled your scent. 

Goosebumps populated over your cold skin. The sound of his breathing echoed down your eardrums as you closed your eyes. Gently, Jonathan kissed your jawline, casually making his way over to your soft lips. The kiss was passionate yet tender. Hesitantly, your arms wrapped around his upper back. When he didn’t react, you tightened the hold, exhaling in relief. 

“Was thinking of just ordering something in, I can’t be bothered cooking tonight, it was such a stressful day kitten, work can be really draining sometimes” Jonathan spoke in between kisses. 

Honestly, he didn’t have much of an appetite either. His hunger was craving you instead. With his hands running over your bare stomach, your ass slipped to the edge, legs wrapping around his stomach due to his shorter height. 

“I can cook something for you” you offered in a shaking voice, your hands holding onto his upper body for support. Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Really? Oh that would be so kind of you, my good kitty” Jonathan complimented as he brushed your hair behind your ears.  

You’d need his assistance, or at least to be watched over. He still didn’t trust you, especially with a knife in arms reach. But the thought of you willingly wanting to do something for him was sweet. Speaking of sweet- 

“Let your owner feel your sweet pussy” Jonathan grumbled as bent over his body, hands cupping underneath your cheeks. 

“Yes Jonathan” you sighed, propping your elbows behind you in support. 

Jonathan bent his hip down as he admired your pussy, his own claws dug into your outer thighs. Firstly, he deeply breathed in your sweet scent. Then stubbornly, his tongue ran up and down your cunt. Jonathan was always too eager to eat you out. The skills and methods of his tongue could not be taught. This was pure talent which could never be duplicated. It was humiliating to admit that Jonathan was your best lover. The cocky bastard knew he was as well, no other man would even try to compete if they saw the movements of his tongue alone. 

You never bothered to shy away from your moans. Jonathan told you from the beginning that you might as well make the best out of your new living conditions. Your nails scratched over the marble as you tried to find something to grip onto. Needily, your hands slipped into his dark locks, tugging roughly at his roots. 

“You like this, yeah? Being taken care of by me?” Jonathan groaned against your cunt, his cock desperately twitching in his pants as his hips squirmed. 

You quickly nodded your head to him, purring out your answer. But you whined out when his cold lips popped off of your dripping lips. His lean body raised up, already smirking at you as he unbuckled his belt. As you propped yourself back onto your elbows, Jonathan’s pants dropped to his knees, his boxers scrunched up at his mid thigh as he stroked his cock slowly. You’re pulled off the island and flipped around, your chest pressed into the cold marble as you stood on your tippy toes. 

“Yeah… You love my big cock too don’t you?” Jonathan murmured as he lined up his throbbing length to your entrance. 

“Yes Jonathan, I love your cock so much” you purred deeply. 

With a cheeky grin, Jonathan pushed his tip inside of you. After a few seconds of smiling to yourselves, Jonathan pushed himself into your warmth, inch by inch. Biting at his lower lip, his hands rested on your lower back, ready to pound into you as if life depended on it. 

When he did commence his rough thrusts, your arms snaked back to hold your hips up as your claves felt like they were on fire. Jonathan huffed and flipped you around once more. As you were pulled up by your thighs, you wrapped your calves around his lower back as yours was shoved into the edge of the bench. Hissing out, your hands slid up the back of his button up shirt. Your claws dug into his bare back, Jonathan snarled out, but the smile was euphoric. The sound of his balls slapping against your sensitive skin echoed throughout the kitchen. The both of you were panting as you felt your orgasm climb up your walls. 

“Ugh! I’m so glad you broke into my office! Can’t believe the infamous catwoman fell into my arms. I couldn’t report you, no, no… They’d treat you like an animal” Jonathan whined out, his cock twitched in your velvet walls. 

Being his little pet was a privilege, in his devilish blue eyes at least. He’d feed you (as if he’s drug wasn’t an issue), bathe you, cloth you (sort of), caress you and most importantly, fuck you. Everyday he’d make sure that you’d experience multiple orgasms. Because his kitten deserved the finest life. 

All you had to do was, well, act like a cat for the most part. Yes, there were times where he would allow your humanity to show by walking on two feet, or eating at the dining table. And gosh, he'd never by a bag of cat litter for you. But Jonathan wanted you to stick to your alter ego. Some days he’d let you wear your mask, just to remind you of your past. My, sometimes he'd even wear his own mask too to really get into the scene of it all. It was tormenting however, it made you want to search for a way out of this prison. But you knew the consequences of that by now. If you were disobedient, he’d discipline you, more humanly though. A proper spanking always got his point across. 

Jonathan liked to have you sleep at the end of his bed every night. On some nights -if he was feeling rather generous- he’d allow you to crawl up and sleep on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat easily got you to sleep. He’d often wake up to you purring against his chest. 

Yes, being Jonathan’s kitten wasn’t your worst outcome. It was thoughtful of him, to indulge in your past life. It was much better than being one of his patients in Arkham, that's for sure. Gotham City was a fearful city, he was just protecting you from the many dangers at the end of the day. You were his to protect now, to love and own. 

That mind of his was ingenious, he always knew how to time it for you both to finish in unison. Jonathan moaned out as his ropes of white shot deep into your canal, his head fell against your neck as he suckled at your heated skin. You held onto him for dear life, feeling the aftermath waves of pleasure from your own orgasm. The fresh claw marks would add to the personal art piece of your creativity. But Jonathan loved it, his back and his chest were the only areas he gave you permission to mark. 

As Jonathan took in a deep breath, he lifted his head from the crook of your neck and lowered you to your feet. Jonathan smiled down at you as he readjusted his glasses, lenses all foggy from your activity. You nuzzled your nose against his face, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Come on then kitty, make us a lovely meal before I get hungry for you again” he purred by your ear.

[creamflix]

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 2]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, angst, slow-burn, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto, choso kamo, uraume, yuuji itadori), mentions of sickness [puking due to alcohol consumption + past trauma] - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman!choso fanfic

word count: 9.9k words

notes: thank you all so much for the positive response for our darling business tycoon sukuna, i'm beyond grateful. as i said, this will be a very slow-burn fic. i realistically have not planned out how many chapters i'm gonna write [ridiculous, i know] but i will make a masterlist soon! keep your eye out for that. and please, enjoy.

masterlist

this was a new low, even for sukuna. it felt like the earth had swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but his pride to choke on.

how the hell did i end up here? he thought bitterly, staring at yuuji, his fresh-out-of-high-school little brother, who was now sitting in his plush office chair, twirling a pen like it was the most exciting thing in the world. having yuuji be my intern as a marketing strategist... the words tasted like bile in his mouth. it wasn’t that his business was struggling — far from it — but the “experts” had insisted that “gen-z knows gen-z the best” and that ryomen’s brand needed a fresh perspective to appeal to younger audiences. a whole load of crap, but sukuna had grudgingly agreed.

and of all people, yuuji was the one sitting across from him, smiling like a kid who just found out he could have dessert before dinner.

“you get my range rover for the time you’re here, and an extra week to stay at the miami penthouse. deal?” sukuna offered with a grumble, the words almost painful to say.

yuuji, without missing a beat, grinned. “you strike a hard bargain, but i agree.”

“range rover with a chauffeur!” sukuna barked. “you are not taking that damn thing out by yourself —”

“can’t hear you!” yuuji sang out as he already started texting his friends, probably to brag about his temporary ride.

is this my life now? sukuna thought, eyes narrowing at his brother. the contrast between them was maddening. how did they look so alike yet end up so different? sukuna, a figure of intimidating presence and silent power, versus yuuji, the golden retriever of the family, bouncing off walls with enthusiasm that never seemed to dwindle. it was exhausting.

yet... sukuna sighed inwardly. it felt right. as weird as it was to turn to his younger brother for advice on how to steer his multi-million dollar company toward the hearts of gen-z, there was an unspoken reason behind this move. sukuna wouldn’t admit it out loud — not to anyone — but this was a veiled excuse to spend more time with yuuji. i want to see him grow up before it’s too late... before i miss out on everything.

the conversation replayed in sukuna’s mind, the phone call that had set this whole thing into motion. he remembered dialing choso’s number that monday night, pacing in his study like he had something far more important to discuss than the simple request he was about to make.

“what’s up?” choso’s familiar, calm voice answered, and sukuna could practically hear the eyebrow raise on the other side of the line. no doubt he knows something’s up...

“is the brat free?” sukuna asked, cutting straight to the point, though his tone held a gruffness that masked the underlying hesitation.

“you mean yuuji?” choso sounded amused. “yeah, he’s around. why? you finally listening to my advice?”

sukuna clenched his jaw. damn choso and his know-it-all attitude. “just tell me if he’s coming or not,” sukuna snapped. “i’ll have him picked up.”

there was a pause, and then choso chuckled, a low sound that grated sukuna’s nerves. “you’re really doing it, huh? alright. he’ll be there.”

sukuna grunted a reply and ended the call before choso could get in another word. the weight of that decision settled on him as soon as the line went dead. what am i doing? he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. he had run away from all that domestic crap years ago, leaving choso with the burden of raising yuuji while sukuna carved out his empire. now he was dragging his baby brother into the corporate world, hoping for... what? a way to reconnect? maybe. maybe even to prove to himself that he hadn’t completely abandoned his family.

yuuji, on the other hand, was overjoyed. from the moment he stepped foot into the sleek, glass-paneled office building, he was bouncing off every wall — metaphorically, at least. sukuna’s employees, most of whom had only ever seen their boss in stoic, business mode, were stunned by the whirlwind that was yuuji itadori. he was talking to them like they were old friends, cracking jokes, and asking questions about their jobs, all while everyone tried to reconcile the fact that this was sukuna’s little brother.

it’s insane how they look so alike, one of the marketing assistants whispered to another, but they’re complete opposites.

sukuna, watching from his corner office, didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated. he’s not here to make friends. he’s here to work. but deep down, he couldn’t deny a strange sense of satisfaction seeing yuuji here, in his world, even if it was just for a short while.

as the days passed, sukuna found himself in unfamiliar territory. instead of barking orders, he found himself... mentoring. guiding yuuji through the nuances of marketing, albeit begrudgingly. at first, it was awkward, like two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. but yuuji, with his boundless energy and openness, had a way of easing into things, even cracking sukuna’s icy exterior, bit by bit.

maybe this isn’t so bad, sukuna thought one evening as yuuji chattered on about trends and social media engagement, something sukuna would normally roll his eyes at. but now, he listened, actually listened.

and if this is what it takes to spend time with him... well, sukuna could make the sacrifice.

“oi nii-chan, is it true you and miss persephone lady used to work togeth–”

“enough with that crap! i got you here to work, not read through some trashy tabloid!” sukuna snapped, slamming his laptop shut as he glared at his younger brother.

it had been a few days since yuuji started officially interning for ryomen, and to sukuna’s surprise, the kid wasn’t half bad. he had this knack for understanding what gen z wanted — though sukuna would never admit that aloud — and somehow, yuuji managed to get him on tiktok. tiktok, of all things.

“trust me, bro, just hold the bottle up, smile a little… no, not like you’re about to kill someone — there, that’s it! just smile like a regular human.” yuuji had been chirping as he filmed his brother, who begrudgingly lifted a bottle of his own product in front of the camera.

sukuna had scoffed at the ridiculousness of it, but the reel blew up overnight, racking up millions of views. comments poured in, and to sukuna’s dismay, most of them weren’t even about the product.

"who’s the hot dilf in the suit?!"

"omg i’d buy anything daddy’s selling 😩💦"

"daddy energy is off the charts!! does he need a wife?"

"i’m literally ordering a case just ‘cause he held it, help."

meanwhile, you and suguru were practically losing your minds over the viral tiktok. not that you had anything to really worry about — persephone was the "hot girl drink" among gen z, and tiktok was basically your playground. but as a businesswoman, it irked you to see a slight dip in your numbers. for the first time in a while, your usually devoted fanbase — the ones who’d raid your comments with praise and love — had migrated to thirst over at ryomen's instead.

“those assholes knew exactly what they were doing when they whored out their boss like that,” suguru muttered, scrolling through the comments of the video, eyes narrowing at every thirst post he passed.

“suguru! language!” you scolded, shooting him a glare, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of his observation.

“what? it’s true! look at him,” he huffed, gesturing toward the screen.

you paused, hesitantly glancing at the video again. and, well… he wasn’t wrong. sukuna had the whole tall, brooding, dark look going for him. it was no wonder half the internet was drooling over him.

“if i had to hazard a guess, they probably had a younger kid think of this,” suguru added, now analyzing the marketing tactic. “they know their stuff. gen z eats this up.”

you let out a frustrated sigh. “whatever, it doesn’t matter. we need to bounce back.”

suguru grinned mischievously. “oh, i’ve got a few ideas. starting with—”

“suguru,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at him, “for the last time, i am not letting you get shirtless on camera.”

he laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “hey, just offering my services! we’re losing to thirst traps here.”

you rolled your eyes, already brainstorming new strategies. “we don’t need thirst traps to win. we’re better than that.”

“yeah, yeah,” suguru smirked. “but admit it, they played their hand well with this one.”

despite his annoyance at the flood of thirsty comments, the numbers didn’t lie. the reel translated into a surprising sales boost for ryomen’s wine. sukuna was on a high after that win, but deep down, he knew it was all thanks to yuuji's ridiculous idea. actually saying "thank you"? yeah, right. that wasn’t gonna happen. instead, he decided to take yuuji to one of the socialite parties he was invited to as a subtle reward, even though he warned him, “you screw around, and i’ll throw your ass out in front of everyone.”

yuuji had grinned ear to ear. “don’t worry nii-chan, i’ll behave!”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but there was a part of him that was secretly proud. the brat was doing well, and in some twisted way, this was also an excuse to spend more time with him.

the whole tiktok situation still irked sukuna, though. since when was his image the selling point? the product was solid on its own, but apparently, gen z loved "hot dilfs" now. ridiculous. but whatever works, he thought with a scoff.

as they pulled up to the socialite event, yuuji practically bounced out of the car, eyes wide at the grandeur of the venue. sukuna shot him a sidelong glance, grumbling under his breath, “remember what i said, don’t screw this up.”

yuuji gave a mock salute, “aye, aye, captain!”

sukuna couldn’t help but smirk, but quickly covered it up with a scowl as they walked in.

you and suguru arrived early at the party, mingling with some of the top players from all industries. dressed in a scarlet gown, you felt like you blended right in with the glamour, while suguru, matching in a dark-red suit, stayed close enough so that you two could exchange subtle glances as you navigated through different groups of people.

meanwhile, sukuna was keeping an eye on yuuji, who was fidgeting next to him. “oi, nii-chan, isn’t that —” yuuji began, his eyes locking onto your figure across the room.

“brat, stop staring,” sukuna growled under his breath, half-annoyed but mostly frustrated. it was almost guaranteed he’d run into you and that bastard suguru at events like this — but now? here? with yuuji around? his blood pressure spiked instantly.

where the hell is yuuji?

his eyes darted around until he saw him — of course — bouncing over toward you as you stood at the bar, ordering a drink. sukuna’s jaw clenched as he watched. martini. how fucking cliché, he scoffed internally. though, admittedly, it did match your dress. but that wasn’t the problem here.

“hi miss!” yuuji’s voice cut through the crowd as he stood in front of you, grinning like an excited puppy.

you blinked in surprise, turning to look at him. “hey, little guy, you lost or something?”

“why does everyone think i’m little?!” yuuji whined, puffing his chest out a little. “i’m literally eighteen…”

“eighteen is still pretty little,” you teased with a smirk. “i can bet you’re the youngest one here.”

yuuji pouted. “ugh, fine… anyways, my name’s yuuji! yuuji itadori, i’m sukun—”

“brat!” sukuna’s growl cut him off as he stormed over, eyes flashing with annoyance.

you raised an eyebrow, recognition flashing in your eyes as soon as you heard that name. "so... yuuji itadori, huh?" you mused with a slight grin, your gaze shifting from yuuji to sukuna, who now stood towering beside him.

sukuna glared at yuuji. “what’d i tell you about running off, huh?”

yuuji sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, looking between you and his brother. “uhh, my bad, bro…”

sukuna was caught between two options: curtly apologize to you for yuuji’s sudden interruption or yank the brat by the collar and lecture him about keeping his head in the game. but as you sipped that ridiculous martini of yours, eyeing him and yuuji like they were some kind of curiosity, he found himself staying put.

"this one’s yours?" you asked, an amused smile playing on your lips. sukuna grunted in response, gripping yuuji's collar just a bit tighter. yuuji winced, squirming under the hold. "ow ow ow — nii-chan!"

you tilted your head, a curious glint in your eyes as you took in the scene. "if i dare guess," you began, your gaze landing squarely on sukuna with a knowing smile, "is the little one part of your marketing team?"

before sukuna could respond, yuuji eagerly jumped in, clearly excited to explain. “yes! i did that! the tiktok i mean, did you like it?”

your laugh was warm and genuine, a sound that only seemed to irritate sukuna more. "a lot of people did," you replied, still holding his gaze as you gave yuuji a nod. "but persephone’s numbers didn’t. you did well, yuuji."

yuuji lit up like a damn firework, beaming as if you’d handed him a golden trophy. sukuna scoffed, his irritation mounting. putting down your own company just to kiss the competition’s ass? what kinda idiot does that? he thought, glaring at you like you were the source of his current migraine. meanwhile, yuuji’s grin seemed to be growing bigger by the second — wasn’t there a limit to how much one person could beam? he could practically light up a whole city with the way he was grinning at you.

disgusting.

“you don’t have to suck up to her,” sukuna grumbled, finally releasing yuuji’s collar and crossing his arms. “her numbers are probably tanking ‘cause of us, and she knows it.”

you raised an eyebrow, sipping your martini like the whole thing was a joke. “maybe so, but your brother’s the reason for that, right?” you said calmly, giving yuuji a wink. “it’s only fair to acknowledge talent where it’s due.”

yuuji blinked, clearly basking in the compliment. "thanks, miss! nii-chan doesn’t say it, but i know he's proud of me."

sukuna shot his brother a look. “don’t push your luck, brat.”

you chuckled at the exchange, swirling the glass in your hand. “oh, i don’t know. seems like he’s doing a good job. maybe you should keep him around a little longer.”

“yeah, nii-chan, maybe i should get a permanent job here!” yuuji chimed in, totally missing the sarcastic undertones flying between the two of you.

sukuna clenched his jaw. great. just what i needed — both of them ganging up on me.

before the banter could progress any further, suguru’s voice cut through the little bubble like a sharp blade. "well, am i interrupting something?" he asked, his tone deceptively smooth, though his eyes were locked on sukuna and yuuji with much less warmth. he smiled at you, a softer, genuine expression, but then he let his gaze linger back on the two brothers. “look what the cat dragged in. as if one wasn’t enough, we now have two.”

sukuna was already seeing red, his fist clenching by his side. you want to throw shots at me? fine. but take a swing at my little brother, and i’ll rip you apart. just as he was about to snap back, ready to tear into suguru, yuuji’s voice cut through the tension in the air.

“dude... what is that haircare routine?” yuuji asked, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity.

the sheer randomness of the question left all three adults in momentary silence. you barely managed to hold back a laugh, your martini glass pressed to your lips as you tried to stifle the sound. suguru, on the other hand, just blinked, dumbfounded, as if he wasn’t sure if yuuji was joking or serious.

“are you… are you serious?” suguru finally asked, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

yuuji nodded earnestly, clearly unaware of the tension that had been suffocating the air moments before. “yeah, dude. it’s, like, so shiny! how do you do it?”

the awkward silence that followed was broken by your quiet scoff of amusement, followed by a smile you tried to hide behind your glass. even suguru, momentarily disarmed, glanced sideways at you, but it was clear that yuuji’s completely unintentional intervention had somehow postponed the inevitable face-off.

for now.

sukuna, though still seething, was momentarily taken aback by his brother’s pure, childlike curiosity, his anger simmering into frustration instead. “are you fuckin’ serious” he muttered under his breath, not entirely sure if he should laugh or smack yuuji upside the head.

suguru shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his admittedly perfect hair, before giving sukuna a pointed look. “well, i suppose the brat has taste. not everyone can pull this off,” he said, his smugness barely hidden as he flicked his gaze between sukuna and you.

you chuckled, finally lowering your glass. "i don’t know, suguru. maybe he’s got a point." you smiled at yuuji, enjoying the brief moment of levity that, for once, didn’t involve the constant tension between the two men.

“excuse us,” sukuna grunted bluntly, shoving past you and suguru as he dragged yuuji along with him.

“oi, ow ow, ouch — nii-chan, i can walk!” yuuji whined, trying to free himself from sukuna’s iron grip.

“can’t trust you to be ‘walking’ around anywhere anymore, brat,” sukuna shot back, his tone harsh but not without a hint of affection.

“but ’m eighteen! i’m practically a grown-up!” yuuji protested, pouting as he tried to keep up.

“grown-up? please. you’re still a kid in my eyes,” sukuna scoffed, shaking his head. “and you think you can just stroll up to a stranger at a party? she could be a gold digger or something.”

“she’s pretty, you know,” yuuji blurted out, his eyes wide with admiration as he glanced back at you.

“like hell she is! god, i swear the bar gets lower and lower with each generation,” sukuna replied, his voice dripping with disdain, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity about you.

“what’s wrong with being pretty? you’re just jealous!” yuuji exclaimed, finally breaking free and spinning to face sukuna. “you’re the one who’s grumpy all the time!”

“grumpy? i’m just realistic. just because you think some girl is pretty doesn’t mean she’s not trouble,” sukuna retorted, crossing his arms as he glared at his brother.

“but she’s not trouble! she’s cool! she even said i did a good job on that tiktok!” yuuji defended, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“yeah, well, that’s probably just her being nice to you,” sukuna replied, rolling his eyes. “i bet she’s just buttering you up.”

“she’s not!” yuuji insisted, his voice rising. “i really think she likes me—”

“likes you? please, she’s probably just being polite,” sukuna interrupted, clearly annoyed. “you’re not exactly a catch, you know.”

“that’s mean!” yuuji shot back, his bottom lip jutting out. “i’m a great catch! i’ve got mad skills!”

“mad skills? like what, jumping around and acting like a fool? you’re a kid, yuuji. stay in your lane,” sukuna scoffed, his tone lightening just a bit.

meanwhile, back at the bar, suguru’s usually composed face is clouded with concern. “you’re okay, right? he didn’t say anything? hurt you? touch y—”

“sugu, i’m fine! really,” you reply, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. he lets out a grumble, clearly still irritated, as he plops down next to you on the perched bar stool. his hand reaches out for yours in a quiet, almost shy gesture of reassurance.

“sukuna may be an ass, but he won’t compromise on yuuji’s safety by starting a scene,” you add, trying to ease his worry.

“you know that kid?” suguru asks, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“more or less. i used to make monthly bank transfers to a ‘yuuji itadori,’ so i’m guessing it’s him,” you explain with a shrug.

“huh, guess that pink-haired fiend actually has a heart somewhere in there.” suguru scoffs, shaking his head.

“suguru!” you nudge him with your elbow, stifling a laugh.

“no, but seriously,” he softens, his gaze searching your face. “you good, vino? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“yeah, i’m fine. i was... kinda expecting him here, you know. and besides, i’’m over it,” you say, a hint of finality in your tone. you take a breath, glancing around the room before turning back to him with a playful roll of your eyes. “and can you please stop calling me vino?”

“what! it sounds classy,” suguru grins, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“classy? it sounds like i’m a bottle on the top shelf at a wine shop,” you reply, feigning annoyance but unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face.

“hey, if the shoe fits…” he teases, his grip on your hand tightening briefly, a small reminder that he’s always got your back — even when sukuna’s around.

“no, but seriously,” suguru leans in, his tone soft yet firm. “you don’t need to worry about sukuna. you’re in your own element right now. don’t let pinkie pie over there ruin it for you.”

you let out a laugh, his words pulling you out of your thoughts, and suguru's smile deepens as he watches the corners of your lips lift. god, he loved seeing you smile like that. it’s moments like these that make him grateful you came out stronger. though he hated the rough patches you’d been through, there was nothing he admired more than your resilience. he realized just how much he loved seeing you happy, and he hated the thought of you ever hurting, especially because of someone like sukuna. that bastard had taken enough from you, but here you were, standing taller than ever, glowing even. and suguru loved that about you — the way you’d come out of the storm stronger. even when things got tough, you always found a way to push through.

but it didn’t stop him from worrying. it never would.

“you know i got you, right?” he asked quietly, almost as if he needed to remind you — but also himself. his grip tightened just a bit, an anchor in the noisy room.

when you smiled and squeezed his hand back, saying, "of course i do, sugu," it was like the weight on his chest lightened just a little.

screw sukuna, he thought. no matter what came next, as long as you had him, you wouldn’t be facing anything alone. and that was all that mattered.

he nods, but there’s a twinge of frustration simmering beneath the surface. he wants to protect you from all the bullshit that comes with this industry, especially from someone like sukuna. he knows you’re tough and capable, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing he could shield you from the chaos.

“just… keep doing what you’re doing. you’re incredible, and you deserve every bit of success coming your way.” his gaze holds yours, sincere and unwavering. he knows you’ve faced challenges, and he’s proud to stand by you, no matter what.

“thanks, suguru. it means a lot.” your voice is soft, and for a moment, the noise of the party fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of understanding.

“cursed vintages: sip the darkness, savor the power? you can’t be serious.”

you stared in disbelief at the large billboard advertising sukuna’s latest venture. of course, it was dramatic, leaning into the over-the-top theatrics that fit his brand. cursed vintages was a direct competitor to your upcoming release, spirited whispers: a hauntingly light sip for your eerie nights! the timing was too convenient, almost as if sukuna had planned it just to outshine you. you couldn’t help but scoff at the absurd tagline — sip the darkness, savor the power — it was so him.

as frustrating as it was, you knew sukuna’s bold play was part of a larger strategy. he'd always aimed to dominate, but he wouldn't dare cross the line by doing something illegal, like price-fixing. that wasn’t his style. sukuna might be ruthless, but he wasn't careless, and losing face over something so reckless wasn't in the cards for him.

you cast an irritated glance at the massive advertisement towering over your office’s commercial district. sukuna and a model posed elegantly on either side of his new wine, their faces shadowed by the bold branding. sukuna’s smirk was infuriating, like he knew exactly how much it would annoy you. it was clear he was leveraging his good looks to boost sales and push his brand, playing on his appeal in the most obvious way.

but you weren’t one to back down. as you studied the billboard, an idea sparked in your mind — something bold, something that could turn the tables.

“sugu! i’ve got an idea,” you burst into suguru’s office, a mischievous grin on your face. “but…you need to get shirtless for this.”

suguru’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “what now?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, clearly skeptical of whatever plan you had.

“you heard me,” you replied, undeterred. “we’re gonna hit sukuna where it hurts — if he’s going to flaunt his looks to sell wine, then we’ll do the same.”

suguru gave you a half-laugh, half-sigh. “so…your genius marketing plan involves me stripping down?”

you nodded, a grin playing on your lips. “trust me, it’ll work. we need something bold, something viral. a frat party-style ad, with you right in the middle of it. everyone will be talking about it.”

he shook his head, chuckling. “fine, but only because you asked.”

within days, your ad was everywhere. people couldn’t get enough of it — the combination of modern-day recession pop music and the carefree, chaotic energy of a frat party resonated across generations. the low-budget aesthetic only made it more relatable, especially with suguru’s shirtless appearance front and center, surrounded by a crowd of partygoers. spirited whispers became the go-to drink for college parties, nostalgic millennials, and even curious onlookers who wanted a piece of the action.

sales skyrocketed. within a week and a half, your six-month stock was completely sold out. spirited whispers had blown up in ways you hadn’t anticipated, becoming a cultural phenomenon. and the best part? sukuna was furious.

back at sukuna’s office, yuuji was taking the fallout personally. slouched in one of the chairs, he sighed. “it’s my fault, right? we didn’t work hard enough, and now persephone’s–”

“it’s not your fault, brat,” sukuna cut him off sharply, his frustration evident but not directed at his younger brother. seeing yuuji’s dejected expression made sukuna bristle. “you’re just an intern. whatever you did, you did it well, so stop moping around like this.”

yuuji looked up, surprised by the rare hint of praise. “i’ll work harder, nii-chan! i’ll make you proud, i promise.”

sukuna’s heart clenched slightly at yuuji’s words. despite his tough exterior, moments like these reminded him why he was so driven to succeed. everything he did, all the ruthless business tactics, it was for his family, especially yuuji.

before sukuna could respond, uraume, his most trusted employee, stormed into the office, looking uncharacteristically rattled. “sir, you need to see this,” they said urgently, handing sukuna a tablet. the headline blared in bold, sensationalized text:

"former secretary to powerful business mogul becomes rival: y/n’s rise to stardom amidst scandal"

sukuna’s jaw clenched as he read the article. of course, they were dredging up old rumors, trying to link your past employment under him to some scandalous narrative. the tabloids had clearly caught wind of your recent success, and now they were out for blood, twisting your story into something salacious.

this wasn’t just business anymore. sukuna’s anger simmered beneath the surface, but his mind was already moving. it was time to put an end to this.

“schedule a meeting,” sukuna said coldly.

“with who?” uraume asked, though they already had a good idea.

“with y/n,” sukuna answered, his eyes narrowing. “it’s time we settled this.”

“you got mail, vino,” suguru teased as he stepped into your office, holding up his tablet with a faint grin. “pinkie pie wants to set up a meeting tomorrow.”

you raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-skeptical. “all it took was you getting shirtless for him to come visit us, suguru,” you teased, trying to keep the mood light despite the hint of tension beneath your words.

but suguru didn’t laugh. instead, his expression shifted slightly, his tone more serious. “not us, y/n. just you. he… asked for you, specifically.”

the way he said it made your stomach drop. “what do you mean, sugu?”

suguru sighed, his easy demeanor replaced by something more somber. “y/n, this meeting… it’s not just about the wine. someone published a full-length tabloid piece. on you and sukuna.”

your blood ran cold. all the teasing left your body, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. “sugu, tell me you’re lying,” you said, your voice shaky, desperately hoping this was just another one of his jokes.

he looked at you with regret in his eyes, shaking his head. “i’m not, y/n. i’m sorry. we’re already working to get it removed from our end, but it’s all over the place.”

his words felt distant, muffled, as your thoughts spiraled. the whole reason you’d thrown yourself into this business, the late nights, the strategy, the risks — it was all to make a name for yourself. to not be associated with sukuna, to stand on your own feet and build something without his shadow looming over you. but now it felt like all that effort had been undone, like your entire identity was being dragged back into his orbit.

why did it feel like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape him? were you that devoid of luck, of any hope for a clean slate, let alone a happy ending?

your hands gripped the edge of your desk as you fought to steady your breath, your mind racing. suguru stepped closer, concern softening his voice. “y/n, we’ll figure this out. this isn’t the end.”

but all you could think about was tomorrow. the meeting. facing sukuna again.

sukuna strode into your office building, lips curling into a sneer as he scanned the crowd of employees milling around. "what the fuck is this place?," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the laid-back environment. 

some people were dressed so casually he had to wonder if they were on their way to a beach party instead of working. baggy t-shirts, sneakers, and even someone in what looked like pajama pants — it was a far cry from the cutthroat atmosphere of his own office. how the hell did you run a successful business with this ragtag bunch?

but, sukuna wasn’t an idiot. persephone’s numbers were some of the best in the industry. these kids — these kids were the ones who’d been fucking with his sales for weeks now. and he couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he hated it. never trust a book by its cover, right? even if this office looked like a frat house, it clearly delivered results.

still, the sight of it grated on him. made his skin crawl. "what a goddamn joke," he thought, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he made his way to your office.

the moment he pushed open the door, though, expecting to see you, he stopped dead in his tracks. it wasn’t your figure behind the desk — it was suguru, leaning casually back in your chair like he owned the place.

“what the fuck is this, now?” sukuna's voice was harsh, his frustration immediately bubbling over. he hadn’t come here to deal with your right-hand man.

suguru, unfazed by sukuna’s usual brashness, just smiled, sitting up slightly. “sorry, y/n’s not here right now. emergency shipping issue. had to send her out across the city. guess you’re stuck with me.”

sukuna’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you really think i’m gonna believe that shit? sounds like a fuckin’ excuse to avoid me.”

suguru shrugged, clearly not bothered by sukuna’s attitude. “believe what you want, man. i’m just telling you how it is. besides,” he added with a smirk, “what’d you need y/n for anyway? i’m perfectly capable of handling a little business negotiation.”

the office was large, sleek, and modern — surprisingly professional compared to the chaos outside. it pissed sukuna off more that everything was in perfect order, like you’d been expecting him to show up. the leather chair, the spotless glass desk — it all looked ready to welcome him. except it wasn’t you sitting there, it was this fucker.

sukuna gritted his teeth, the itch to throw suguru out of the chair gnawing at him. he wasn’t used to being thrown off like this. this was supposed to be simple, just get in, handle things with you, and get the hell out. now he was stuck, dealing with suguru and his cool, unbothered demeanor.

“look, i don’t got time for this bullshit. where the hell is she?” sukuna growled.

suguru leaned forward slightly, still maintaining that infuriating smile. “she’s not avoiding you, sukuna. but you showing up like this… it’s kinda unnecessary, don’t you think? it’s not like y/n’s going anywhere. if there’s something you want to talk about, i’m right here. what’s the rush?”

sukuna snorted, anger barely restrained. “don’t fucking act like you know what this is about.”

suguru tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “actually, i do. i know about the tabloid. i know why you’re here. but that doesn’t mean y/n has to deal with your shit, sukuna.”

sukuna felt his blood boil. this asshole, stepping in like he knew everything. like he could stop him from getting what he wanted. "you're lucky you're still in that chair, you smug piece of shit."

suguru’s calm never wavered. “and you’re lucky i’m still talking to you. trust me, y/n doesn’t need your bullshit right now.”

sukuna glared daggers at him, the whole situation making him want to smash something. "fuck this," he thought, but deep down, he knew suguru had pulled a fast one on him. he could feel it, a tightness in his chest, like the whole reason he came here was slipping out of his grasp. you. he’d wanted to see you. confront you. and now… now he was just left fuming at a man who wouldn’t budge.

sukuna, jaw tight, took a deep breath. as much as he wanted to throw suguru through the fucking window, he knew they needed to get this over with. he wasn’t the type to drag out bullshit conversations, and if this was the only way to move things along, then so be it.

“fine,” sukuna growled, leaning back in the chair across from suguru. “let’s talk business then. i’m proposing a collaboration between ryomen and persephone.”

the words sounded alien coming from his mouth, like some kind of bitter aftertaste. sukuna wasn’t one to collaborate with anyone, let alone with someone who had been running circles around him lately. but he wasn’t dumb. christmas was coming, and after that, new year’s — the prime season for wine sales. speaking purely from a business perspective, it made sense. persephone had the youth market in their pocket, and sukuna had the high-end crowd. together, they could dominate both.

suguru raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “a collaboration? you’re serious?”

“do i look like i’m fucking joking?” sukuna snapped, running a hand through his hair, the irritation visible in his body language. “look, i don’t like this shit any more than you do. but it’s smart, and it’ll work. your low-alcohol crap and my high-end shit? we could wipe out the competition through the end of the year. christmas, new year’s — people are buying like crazy. we take advantage of it.”

suguru leaned back in your chair, crossing his arms as he watched sukuna. “what’s the catch?”

sukuna narrowed his eyes. “there’s no fucking catch. it’s a straightforward deal. we both profit. easy as that.”

but suguru wasn’t buying it. “yeah, sure. but what happens when you sideline us? when ryomen suddenly take the spotlight and persephone’s pushed out of the picture?” suguru’s voice was steady, but his words were sharp. he wasn’t falling for any tricks.

sukuna clenched his fists, his temper flaring again. “you think i’m a fucking cheat? that i’m gonna fuck you guys over just because i can?” he stood up, looming over suguru. “i might be a lot of things, but when it comes to business, i don’t fuck around. if i say we’re in this together, we’re fucking in it together.”

suguru didn’t flinch, even as sukuna loomed over him, radiating barely contained rage. “you’ll forgive me if i don’t take you at your word, sukuna.”

sukuna let out a bitter laugh, stepping back slightly, but still glaring down at suguru. “you’re paranoid, geto. but fine, i get it. i’m not asking you to trust me. i’m asking you to look at the numbers. this works. you know it does.”

suguru studied sukuna for a moment before responding, his tone calm. “even if i do entertain this idea, what’s stopping you from trying to bulldoze us in the future?”

sukuna’s patience snapped. “because i don’t need to! i got my own goddamn empire to run. you think i’ve got time to fuck around with your company? this is a one-time deal. you either take it or you don’t. and trust me, geto, if you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

there was a heavy silence between them, the weight of sukuna’s words hanging in the air. it was clear that, while he was brash and crude, sukuna wasn’t here to mess around.

as much as suguru wanted to tell sukuna to fuck off, he knew this wasn’t a decision he could make on his own, not without your input. he couldn’t afford to be reckless, no matter how tempting it was to tell sukuna exactly where to shove his so-called “collaboration.”

suguru gave a tight-lipped smile, standing up from behind your desk. “we’ll think about it and get back to you.”

sukuna’s eyes flashed with frustration, his jaw clenching as he stepped closer to suguru. “you better make it quick,” he growled, the warning clear in his voice.

suguru didn’t flinch, holding his ground. “we’ll be in touch,” he said, his tone firm but not aggressive, making it clear that the conversation was over.

with a scoff, sukuna turned on his heel and stormed out, the tension in the air still thick even after he was gone. suguru let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, sitting back down and rubbing his temples. as much as he hated dealing with sukuna, he knew this was something you’d need to decide.

“hey, vino, how was the shipping —”

“geto, why did you lie to me?”

your voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and cold. suguru, lounging comfortably on the sofa like he owned the place, straightened up immediately, the usual warmth of your voice replaced by something far more biting. being called "geto" instead of "sugu" was all he needed to know that he was in trouble — deep trouble.

he glanced up at you, eyes widening slightly at your expression. you were pissed, more than he had anticipated. “wait, hold on — what are you talking about?”

you slammed your bag onto the nearest table, glaring at him like you were about to explode. “you lied to me about the emergency, suguru! what the hell? you sent me on some bogus errand just so i’d miss sukuna showing up at the office? are you out of your goddamn mind?”

suguru winced at the bluntness of your words. he knew you’d be mad, but this? this was worse than he’d thought. “look, i just didn’t want you dealing with that asshole today, alright? you’ve been stressed, and —"

“so you thought lying to me and sending me on a wild goose chase would help?!” you snapped, pacing angrily. “you made me look like an idiot, suguru! and for what? to protect me from sukuna? i can handle myself, you know.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i know you can, but —"

“no, you don’t know!” you cut him off, your frustration bubbling over. “you don’t get to decide how i handle my shit. i needed to be there for that meeting, and now you’ve just made it ten times worse!”

he opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t having it. “you’re not my babysitter, suguru. stop treating me like some delicate fucking flower.”

as you stood there, fuming, suguru got up from the sofa and walked toward you with that irritatingly calm demeanor of his. “come on, sweetheart, calm down for a sec,” he called for you softly, even though you wanted to stay mad at him. his hand found its way to your arm, rubbing slow, calming circles as he stood close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

you hated how easily he could chip away at your anger like this. you let out a tired sigh, the fight draining out of you, leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. “suguru, this was still messed up,” you muttered, though the sharpness in your tone had softened.

he felt his heart race at the contact, but kept his expression cool. “i know, i know. i was just trying to look out for you, but i get it — you don’t need me to do that.” he paused, his voice dropping slightly, “about the meeting... sukuna proposed a deal. a collaboration for the holiday season.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him. “a deal? with sukuna?” the skepticism was clear in your voice.

“yeah. i don’t like it either, but it could be good for business,” he said, his thumb still tracing soothing patterns on your arm. “i figured we’d at least consider it.”

you sighed again, your frustration ebbing into something more like exhaustion. “alright. let’s take the deal. but next time, no more bullshit, okay?”

he gave a small smile, relief washing over him. “okay.”

suguru pulled out his phone and quickly texted your secretary to notify sukuna that they’d agree to the proposal. as he sent the message, he couldn’t help but glance at you, still leaning slightly against him. his heart was beating faster than it should’ve, but he ignored it, focusing instead on getting business done.

“don’t ask, the brat insisted he sit here.” sukuna scoffed, gesturing at yuuji, who was practically bouncing in his seat, excitement radiating off him. it was hard to blame him, though; after all, they were making history here — ryomen collaborating with persephone.

“so, pretty simple — we start a joint venture solely for the christmas and new year’s season, walk out with the profits, and pretend this never happened. deal?” sukuna stated, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence.

“wow, nii-chan, you make a multi-billion deal sound so simple,” yuuji chimed in, his wide eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. he received an annoyed glare from sukuna in response.

“he’s right,” you spoke up for the first time since entering the room, your voice steady. “we still need to discuss a lot more things in detail.”

sukuna scowled at you, torn between respect for your attention to detail and irritation that this wasn’t as straightforward as he’d hoped. “what more is there to discuss? we’re splitting profits, that’s it.”

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “for starters, we need to decide how the marketing will work. are we promoting under both brands or focusing solely on one? and how do we plan to handle distribution?”

sukuna shrugged, leaning back as if your questions didn’t faze him. “we just let our teams figure that out. they’re good at what they do. just make sure to keep your eye on your side of things.”

“that’s not exactly a solid plan,” you replied, your tone firm. “if we don’t have a cohesive strategy, we risk losing customers on both sides.”

“so you want to babysit my team?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“no, i want to ensure that this partnership is beneficial for both of us,” you retorted, holding his gaze. “we need to figure out our target audience and how to appeal to them. plus, we should set clear expectations for each party involved.”

yuuji, sensing the rising tension, jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation. “what if we create a special holiday blend? something unique to this collaboration? that way, we can market it together and have fun with it!”

sukuna looked at yuuji, momentarily surprised by the suggestion. “not a terrible idea, brat. but what’s your point?”

“it’ll give us something to push on social media, too! and if we make it limited edition, people will rush to buy it. we can use both of your brands to create buzz,” yuuji explained, his enthusiasm infectious.

“i like that,” you said, nodding in agreement. “it adds value and creates urgency. plus, we can promote it as a holiday exclusive, which will draw in more customers.”

sukuna crossed his arms, still skeptical. “fine, let’s say we go with that. but what’s next? i’m not wasting time on endless meetings.”

“then let’s set a timeline,” you suggested, jotting down notes on your tablet. “we need deadlines for marketing materials, production schedules, and launch dates. if we want this to work, we need to be organized.”

“alright, let’s lay it out,” sukuna relented, though he still had that signature scowl on his face. “but you better not fuck this up for me, or you’ll be hearing from me.”

you smirked, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “trust me, sukuna. if anyone’s going to fuck this up, it won’t be me.”

the collaboration between ryomen and persephone was the talk of the town post-halloween. the launch of your joint christmas and new year holiday special didn’t just turn heads — it seemed to capture the attention of every major sector. market analysts were buzzing with reports about the wine industry’s trajectory, forecasting the impact your collaboration would have on both your companies’ market shares. singers and actors began endorsing your holiday blend, and even some of the biggest names in the industry wanted in. you and sukuna even managed to rope in mariah carey herself — a massive investment that nearly drained both of your wallets. but with profits flooding in almost immediately after, it felt more like a minor hiccup than a real setback.

tabloids, unsurprisingly, had a field day with it. their favorite narrative? that you were using your past connection with sukuna to get ahead in the market. "she’s leveraging her history with him,” they’d gossip. but just as quickly, the defense came: “they just hate to see a girlboss winning.” the tabloids were shut down by the people, who were more focused on how well the collaboration was doing rather than who was behind it.

honestly, working with sukuna wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it’d be. sure, there was the occasional scowl or blunt comment at board meetings, but sukuna seemed to have more of a professional demeanor when it came to business. you only saw him once or twice during presentations or negotiations, and whenever you did, suguru was always close by. he’d be leaning in with a quick comment, making sure you felt comfortable, making it easier to shrug off sukuna’s sharper remarks.

things were actually starting to look good for once. there was hope, a sense of optimism that maybe things could keep going this well. your company was thriving, the collaboration was a success, and your name was gaining even more recognition in the industry.

until that damn christmas party.

the festive atmosphere had been building up for weeks — holiday music, the smell of mulled wine and cinnamon, twinkling lights strung up across your office’s ceiling. persephone and ryomen had decided to throw a joint christmas bash for both companies to celebrate the success of your holiday line. everything seemed to be going smoothly. 

that was, until things started to go a bit too smoothly.

everything was fine and dandy until you thought, why not have a sip of ryomen wine? after all, it had been so long since you'd last tried it, right? but the moment that familiar taste hit your tongue, you knew it was a mistake. was it the wine itself, or the flood of memories that came rushing back — of nights you'd rather forget, when alcohol was more of a crutch than a choice?

your stomach turned violently, the nausea creeping up your throat until you couldn't hold it in. before you knew it, you were dry heaving, the sound breaking through the music and laughter in the room. then, you lost it. you puked, right there in front of everyone — the guests, the business partners, the employees, all staring in shock.

"sugu, i–" you tried to say, but the words were caught in your throat as you bent over, heaving again.

"shit, y/n, hold on," suguru rushed to your side, worry etched all over his face as he gently gripped your shoulders, guiding you away from the crowd. "breathe, okay? just breathe."

uraume, always quick on their feet, swiftly called in a medic who had been on standby, just in case. “i’ve alerted the medic,” they said calmly, though their eyes betrayed the concern they felt seeing you like this.

but sukuna? he stood there, silent. frozen. for the first time in a long while, he didn't know what to feel. frustration, maybe? anger? embarrassment? or was it something else entirely — something closer to concern, though he’d never admit it, even to himself.

"fuck," sukuna muttered under his breath, the scowl on his face deepening as he watched the scene unfold. why the hell did she even drink that? part of him was annoyed, but there was a tug, something gnawing at him that he couldn't quite place. maybe it was the realization that seeing you like this affected him more than it should.

suguru glanced up at sukuna, his expression hard, almost daring him to say something. “you gonna stand there, or help?” he spat, one arm still supporting you as you struggled to get your bearings.

sukuna’s jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he turned and walked away from the scene, his fists clenched. "fuck this."

everyone seemed more interested in sukuna’s abrupt departure than the fact that you had just puked. the whispers and gossip quickly shifted from your heaving to the sight of ryomen sukuna walking out of the party without a word. sure, it wasn’t uncommon for people to get a little sick during the holidays — too much food, too much wine — but for sukuna to just up and leave while his business partner was clearly unwell? that was unheard of.

“did you see him just walk out? what the hell’s his problem?”

“seriously? with y/n being sick? kinda heartless.”

you could hear the murmurs from the washroom as you splashed cold water onto your face, trying to steady yourself. was it the wine? the memories? you weren’t sure anymore. your throat still burned, the taste of bile lingering as you rinsed your mouth. but it wasn’t just the physical reaction that made your chest tighten — it was everything else. why now? why here?

yuuji stood by the door, fidgeting awkwardly, his usual energy subdued. “you okay? need any more help?” he asked softly, his voice full of genuine concern. “i brought some mints if you want,” he added, pulling a small tin from his pocket, as if that could make things any better.

“thanks, yuuji,” you mumbled, forcing a small smile despite the situation. the sweetness in his gesture almost brought a tear to your eye.

suguru, on the other hand, was more serious, standing next to you as you dabbed a towel to your lips. “i knew this was a bad idea. should’ve pulled you out earlier,” he muttered under his breath, his hand hovering near your back, ready to steady you if you faltered again. “screw sukuna for making things worse.”

you shook your head, trying to dismiss the weight of it all. “it’s not his fault. i mean... i should’ve known better than to drink that.”

suguru’s expression darkened slightly at your words. “don’t defend him, y/n. he walked out like a dick while you’re here puking your guts out. that’s all i need to know.”

outside the washroom, uraume stood with quiet composure, offering their silent support. they didn’t say anything, but you knew. they couldn’t show outright sympathy — not with their loyalty to sukuna so visibly on display. but their presence alone was reassuring, as if they were silently letting you know that you weren’t alone in this.

“uraume...you don’t have to wait outside, you know,” you called out, your voice a little shaky.

“i know,” they replied evenly, their tone cool yet gentle. “but i’ll remain here, just in case.” their respect for boundaries was evident, but it didn’t make their support any less felt.

you let out a long, shaky breath, staring at your reflection in the mirror. your eyes were red-rimmed, but whether that was from the nausea or the emotional weight, you couldn’t tell. the memories tied to that damn wine were coming back, thick and heavy, clouding your thoughts.

why did it feel like this partnership was costing you more than you ever anticipated?

“this isn’t just about tonight,” you finally admitted aloud, though it was more to yourself than anyone else. suguru caught the shift in your tone, a flicker of worry crossing his face.

“what do you mean?” suguru asked, frowning.

you shook your head. “nothing... it’s just... all of this. it’s taking more of a toll on me than i thought.”

“then maybe it’s time to pull back,” suguru suggested, his voice steady but protective. “you don’t have to keep pushing yourself for this partnership. not if it’s dragging you down.”

you wiped at the corner of your eye, the unshed tears barely noticeable. “i don’t know if i can afford to pull back.”

suguru reached for your hand, his touch warm against your cold fingers. “then we’ll figure it out. together.”

with a small nod, you let out another deep breath, grateful for the support of the people who stayed, even while sukuna — and your past — walked out of the room.

sukuna sat at his desk, shoulders tense as he glared at the numbers flashing across his computer screen. he wasn’t reading them — hadn’t been for a while now. the only thing running through his mind was the scene from earlier, of you heaving in front of everyone at that damn christmas party. it left a bad taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t seem to wash away. and it wasn't just the wine or the party.

he heard the quiet creak of his office door opening but didn’t turn. he knew it was uraume before they even spoke.

“how’s she?” he asked, his voice blunt, the edge of irritation barely masked. he didn’t look up from the screen, but his mind had already drifted far from his work.

“she’s alright,” uraume said, tone calm despite their own weariness. “your brother and her partner were there for her.”

sukuna grunted. he was relieved but didn’t say it. the fact that you had been taken care of wasn’t the issue — it was the nagging frustration gnawing at him. he wasn’t sure what to call it. anger? guilt? neither of those felt right. his brow furrowed deeper, fingers tapping impatiently on the desk as uraume lingered in the doorway.

they stood silently for a moment before finally daring to speak, stepping into the lion’s den with a quiet firmness. “you know, walking out like that…” uraume started, carefully choosing their words. “it wasn’t your best decision.”

sukuna’s eyes flicked up at that, narrowing slightly. “the fuck are you getting at?” his voice was sharp, a bite in his tone that dared them to continue. uraume had always been one of the few who could speak openly to him, but even they knew the risks of poking at the king of curses when he was in a mood.

“she was sick. and you left.” uraume crossed their arms, unshaken by sukuna’s glare. “it’s not just about appearances. it’s about how you handled the situation. or didn’t handle it.”

sukuna’s jaw clenched. "she’s not my fucking problem, alright? i don’t owe her anything," he snapped, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “i’m not her babysitter. she got too into the wine, and it’s not my job to stand around coddling her like some fuckin’ weakling.”

uraume’s gaze didn’t waver. “it wasn’t about babysitting her. it was about showing you gave a damn. even if you don’t owe her anything, she’s still your business partner for the time being.”

sukuna scoffed, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. “don’t lecture me about giving a damn, uraume. i’ve done enough, and i’m not gonna sit around and play nice just because she puked at a party.”

but uraume wasn’t done. they stepped closer, their calm demeanor unshaken by sukuna’s rising frustration. “you’re not stupid. you know that partnership took more out of her than you think. her past with you, everything… it’s all coming back to haunt her. you walking away just made it worse.”

sukuna’s fist slammed onto the desk, the loud bang echoing through the room. “what the hell do you expect me to do? pat her on the back and tell her it’s all sunshine and rainbows? fuck that. she knew what she was getting into.”

uraume remained calm. “maybe she did, but you didn’t have to make it harder for her.”

sukuna’s eyes darkened, tension crackling in the air. “don’t tell me how to handle my shit. i’ve got enough to deal with without worrying about her.” he was almost growling now, but uraume held their ground, unflinching.

“you may not need to worry about her,” uraume said quietly, “but that doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to hurt her. you left for a reason tonight. you felt something, even if you won’t admit it.”

sukuna stared at them, his lips pulled into a scowl, but he said nothing. the silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension. he hated that uraume was right, even if he wouldn’t admit it. he had felt something. a pang of discomfort, maybe even guilt. watching you like that had stirred something inside him, and that feeling had only made him angrier.

he didn’t know how to process it, so he had walked away.

with a sigh, uraume took a step back, sensing that pushing further would only provoke him more. “think about it, ryomen,” they said softly before turning to leave.

as the door closed behind them, sukuna sank back into his chair, his mind racing. he hated feeling like this — like there was something clawing at him from the inside, something he couldn’t control. and the worst part? it was all because of you.

he scowled, running a hand through his hair. "fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. you had gotten under his skin, and he wasn’t sure what pissed him off more — your presence or the fact that he cared enough to notice.

hi lovelies <3 taglist is still open, please have your age displayed in your bio to be added. this will gradually deal with darker themes, and i wish everyone to be of age (AKA 18+) before adding them. thank you for understanding! let me know how you liked this chapter (: if you don't have your age in your bio and you still ask to be added, i'll just ignore your request. please read the above! produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[valorums]

THE WORDS HAD SLIPPED OUT of her cherry lips before they could be suppressed, but once spoken, they did not get rescinded. After all, they were the TRUTH. Shi’al finds herself blushing crimson red as Dylan kisses her hand, so much so that she almost forgets to offer him a respectful curtsy in return. When she straightens her spine, she offers the man a small smile, feeling UNUSUALLY SHY.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ “Valorum.” Her last name escapes her as a thoroughly embarrassing SQUEAK, forcing Shi’al to clear her throat and attempt an introduction once more. “Shi’al Valorum, at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

⊱ ⠀⠀ … ⠀@bloodyxballet

@valorums asked “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen.”

Dylan blushes as he chuckles. He's never been one to except compliments gracefully. "Well, thank you for noticing that and not just the body that comes with it. My names Dylan by the way and what would the name of the woman with a soul just as beautiful as mine?" He comes over to her and takes her hand gently, bringing it to his lips as he leaves a kiss on the back of it.

[houseofhyde]

“aemond, i’m out shopping…”

pairing. modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. ...but you’re under aegon and he’s not stopping. ( read part one here ) warnings. modern au, best friend's brother!aegon, drummer!aegon, fuckbuddy!aegon, references to alcohol & drug usage, smut ( aegon is giving switch vibes ngl, f oral, fingering, m masturbation, pussy pronouns bc aegon straight up talks to it like it's a sentient being independent of the reader, exhibitionism, hair pulling, sweat kink?, spit as lubrication, cum tasting, one single slap, mentions of sex toys & tribute pictures, dubcon but only bc the reader protests even though she doesn't mean it ) word count. 5.2k hyde’s input. my modus operandi is making a silly smut fic ( that involves aegon or aemond fucking around with their brother's love interest ) and then ( quite some time later ) writing a part 2 that accidentally trips and falls into a whole load of plot that simply must be further explored, and then oh no! a series is born! the horrors! read on ao3.

Aegon Targaryen is no stranger to waking up naked in a stranger’s bed.

It’s an occurrence that’s marked his formative years, truly. Drinking hard, partying late. Crashing harder, waking later. Last night's clothes strewn across the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen floors, an arm gone numb with the weight of the head that rests upon it. Hair of black, blonde, brown, red, blue tangled on the pillow next to his own. He’s never been picky with who he takes to bed. A warm body is a warm body, and Aegon Targaryen is but a creature of cold blood searching for some reprieve.

This, however, is new to him.

Awakening to unfamiliar walls still dressed in last night’s clothes and laying completely alone. There’s a pounding in his head that beats at his skull, harder than his foot kicks a bass drum. The smell of cheap liquor sticks to his skin — vodka, or tequila, or rum; he can’t pinpoint which he drank more of. The spot next to him is empty, cold to the touch as a hand stretches across the mattress, searching for some sign of life.

Last night is a blur of nicotine in his lungs, glitter in his hair, and far too many broken drum sticks. He needs to stop snapping them over his knee at the end of every solo. The band had been playing at some new bar, that much he does remember. Then, their set finished, and the drinks began to flow, and more than once he was called into the bathroom for a sniff of snow.

When things can’t get worse, they often do.The scream of an alarm clock, somewhere to the left of him and completely out of arm’s reach. With a groan and a grimace, Aegon’s rolling over, tangling himself in floral sheets and, there he finds the damn noise-maker, sitting pretty on a nightstand, living in the space between a pile of well-read books and a scented candle burnt down three quarters of the jar it lives in. An ashtray filled with trinkets, and earrings, and necklaces, and a single cigarette butt, sits right next to a phone, a glass of water, and two unlabelled white pills, one simple note attached. 

Went 4 run. Don’t burn down apartment.

Aegon can’t even get offended by the comment. He once set Helaena’s carpet on fire, with nothing but a bottle of nail polish remover, a box of matches, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity. More than once, he’s left a pot on the stove and come back to find flames engulfing it. In a world of pyromaniacs, Aegon is a pyro-misfortunate, too typically present when things go up in flames — literally or figuratively.

Right now, the only fire is in his head, and the safety of water lies within a glass. His fingers scramble along the bedside table, grasping at straws to pick up the two pills. As one presses into the palm of his hand, the other slips off the edge. He tries to catch it as it falls. It has the opposite effect, the pill he’s captured slipping through the crack between his fingers and crashing against the floor, exploding in a powder of white. The other tablet is in no better state.

He could cry. He almost does, as he throws the upper half of his body off the bed, dangling down to scrape up the salvageable remnants of his pain relief.

“Every time I think you can’t get more pathetic, you prove me wrong.”

The voice of Aegon’s salvation.

You appear to him, an angel in the doorway. Upside down, clad in a sports bra, running shorts, and mismatching socks, your skin glistening with its own sweat, backlit by the unforgiving shine of an afternoon sun. And it’s all a hallucination, no doubt, because Aegon has not so much as heard from — never mind seen — you.

Not since that last Sunday you’d spent kneeling on his van floor.

He thought your words were nothing but a bluff. This can’t happen again. It was a bluff every other time, a silly thing to comfort the part of your conscience that feels it owes Aemond some kind of unwarranted loyalty, only to then forget about it the next time his text buzzes in, a misspelt nmeed you, or lemmesee you 2moro, or ur pxssy my mouth pls? lighting up the screen. Nearly a month since he watched you slip out his van door, it seems the only way to see you is in a come-down, hungover state of delirium.

But you’re moving towards him, and crouching down to grasp the tablets he’s left to perish, and sitting him up right, leaving his limp body to collapse back against the bed — your bed? A hand racks itself through his disjointed hair, a momentarily soothing touch, until it tightens into a fist and tugs at his roots, angling his head till his blues meet your eyes. A moan slips its way past Aegon’s lips, the delicious burn at his scalp waking his easily aroused mind.

“Look at you,” you practically spit your disgust at him, but the pity in your stare lessens the blows of your anger-laced voice. Your voice, oh how he’s missed it. “There’s a little more life in those eyes than last night, but, god, you look like shit.”

“Hmm, love it when you degrade me, baby,” he says, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips. “Gets me so hard.”

You recoil within an instant, hands off him like he’s a flaming ball of fire and you’re a barrel of oil, impending doom awaiting when both casualties collide. Aegon chases after you, however, and so you don’t make it far, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you down into the sheets with him.

Twisted limbs, wrinkled sheets. You weakly thrash against his hold, his arms tighten around you. Burrowing itself in the crevice where neck kisses shoulder, Aegon’s face seeks the refuge of darkness and burrows itself in the smell of skin, your skin.

“Ew, Aegon!” A cry from above, his warm tongue slivering out the cavern of his mouth and dragging itself along a patch of sweat stained skin. Salty, sweet, musky. Everything he likes, everything you. “Let me go, I’m all- You’re making me sweat all over my sheets!”

“Well, that’s no fun,” the pout practically drips off his voice, giving away his expression as if you can’t already feel it pressed right up against your neck. Mind of their own, his hips grind against the leg trapped between his, the swell of his waking cock slowly making itself known. “I’d rather make you sweat, without the s.”

“Weat,” the cooling damp of your skin soothes his burning headache, the perfect remedy to last night’s cocktail of bad choices. Undulating hips, setting an unsteady rhythm that nurtures the hardness between his thighs, feeds its growing hunger slowly. Too slowly. Too long since Aegon last felt you, since Aegon last felt anything. “You’re saying you want to make me weat.”

“Wet. Sweat without the s,” seizing the opportunity, he takes it upon himself to grab a hold of control, flipping you onto your back with a lack of elegance that can only be justified by his hungover state. With your earlier protests still echoing in his mind, you seem to have no issue spreading your legs and making a space for him between them, inviting the Targaryen boy to drape himself over you, face in neck, crotch against crotch, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. “Phonetically.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Aegon!” Despite your grinning mouth and facetious words, deft fingers slip into the crack between your bodies and work at the buckle of his belt, worn leather leaving speckles of itself on your fingertips. “Did Aemond teach you it?”

“Ha, ha.” His hands pinch at your side, an unseen eye-roll at the mention of his younger brother. Perfect Aemond, always finding a way to make things about himself, even when he’s not in the room. The cut feels a little deeper when you’re involved, the only thing of Aemond’s that Aegon has ever dared try take for himself, a sick prize in the depths of his perverted mind. “Who needs big words when you have a big coc-”

The doorbell rings and interrupts him.

Both of you freeze, hands burrowed in hair and fingers tracing over flesh. Aegon’s quick to recover, dragging his attention back to the shape you make up beneath him, a sight that brings him physical ache. He lets his gaze wander over the length of your torso, over the slopes and curves and dips of your body, and hooks his thumbs under either side of your nylon shorts. 

“Ignore it,” he says, relishing in how easily the tenseness in you melts away as your eyes find his again, stiff muscles melting as easily as candle wax.

Layers of clothing shed away, his liquor-stained shirt now a pile of cotton by the door, your shorts tossed blindly over his shoulder. He sinks back down, your own limbs following suit, folding beneath his on-coming body. Mouths find one another, like a moth finds a flame, and refuse to part.

Aegon’s missed you. He won’t say it, but he feels it. In every brush of his tongue against your own, and every spine-tingling touch your hands drag over his naked back, and every breath he pulls in stained with the smell of your shampoo. It’s too overwhelming to think of, and so he forces himself to focus on a far more pressing matter: his fingers dipping beneath the waistline of your panties.

As thumb meets navel, a phone screen lights up on the bedside table.

He tries, so desperately, to chase your mouth as your head flees, and one less hand, five less fingers touch his skin, reaching out to grasp your buzzing phone, the name on the screen rousing contempt within him.

“Don’t answer,” he’s pleading, even as he watches your thumb swipe up on the green. “Please, don’t.”

Your eyes refuse to meet his own, you put the phone to your ear.

“Aemond,” a sucker punch to the gut, a name that reminds him of the pounding in his head. Aegon recoils from you, resting back on his haunches, the pathway to your thighs a trail laid out before him. “Hi, sorry.”

He wants to admit defeat. Crawl off your bed, scoop up his shirt, lace up his boots — wherever they are. Spare not even a fleeting glance as he takes his leave, let you stay focused on the brother that clearly owns more of your attention than him. And the worst thing is, Aegon cannot pretend this feeling is rational.

Aemond is your friend, your best friend. The one you call when you need saving, the one who pulls the weight of your textbooks out of your arms and into his own, the one who wins a smile out of you like it’s as easy as breathing air. Whereas Aegon can’t even claim he’s losing the race to his little brother, because he’s not even on the same track. 

Unfortunately, defeat just isn’t in his nature.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m,” his hand on your knee, you don’t even flinch. Still won’t even look at him. The hand smooths up your thigh, a light squeeze of flesh as it reaches halfway. “Not in. Aemond, I’m out shopping.”

He snorts back a laugh and, finally, your eyes are on him. Wide, panicked, and pleading for silence.

Aegon ignores it.

Fingers dance up the expanse of your thigh, a pleasant hum rumbling out his chest at the warmth of your skin. He can hear his brother on the other end of the line, unintelligible words blending with the familiar sound of his voice. He can almost picture Aemond, a wrinkle free shirt and tailored trousers, looking up at your building from the entrance, phone pressed to his ear and frown creasing his forehead. The image stays fresh in his mind as his fingers smooth over the soft skin that melts your thighs into the curve of your hips, and sneak their way under the elastic band of your panties.

He pulls at it and releases, watches the way it snaps back down onto your skin. A foot weakly kicks at his side, that stare of yours growing deadlier.

“Are you okay? What happened?” God, the way you want to comfort Aemond, it makes him sick. Or maybe that’s just his hangover. Yeah, that makes more sense.

All is forgotten, for a moment, as he traces over the slope of your mound, finger flexing to press against your clit, hidden out of sight beneath damp cotton. You try to play it cool, like his touch doesn’t faze you, but Aegon’s too quick to notice the hitch in your breath, the way you seem to take a moment too long to reply to his brother.

“Can’t you try to speak with your professor about it, Aim?”

The nickname you speak has Aegon laughing again, a facetious chuckle he presses into your knee, spine curved as he bends down to kiss it. Another kick, this one hits his ribs. Like a saddled horse, it spurs him on, tells him to move faster, touch you more.

It’s hard to pick which sight gets him harder: the peeling back of your panties to reveal the mouthwatering view of your cunt, shining with slick and inviting him to dive right in, or the way your faux composure crumbles, for an instance, back arching reflexively and teeth pressing down against the pillow of your bottom lip, your eyes glued right on his.

“That’s bullshit,” you seem to remember Aemond’s still there, ranting along his own woes in your ear. Again, Aegon wonders if he’s outside. “You’re literally the top student in your year. Hell, you’re probably one of the top students on our whole campus.”

Aegon can’t even disagree. Resident brainiac, the younger Targaryen has always been the overachieving student, winning every useless award and wearing every golden medal. And maybe, were you not two feet below him, dripping wet in nothing but a sports bra, he’d be interested in hearing where this conversation goes, find out what exactly his do-no-wrong brother has fucked up enough not even his flawless grades can save him. His finger is dipping into you before he can even let the thought repeat itself.

“My poor girl,” he mutters aloud, eyes glued on the pretty sight between your legs, hypnotised with how the digit disappears into your pussy, all the way in till knuckles kiss the pillowy soft lips. “So tight. Has mummy not been taking proper care of you, hm? Not letting someone stretch you out, fuck you real good like you deserve?”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss from the pillows, interrupting his reunion with his best friend. He curls his finger up, gently, pressing into the spongy wall of your cunt, just to delight in how easily the animosity flees your eyes as they roll back. Only to shoot wide open again, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you! There’s- There was just some creep harassing me about the queue. Yes, I’m okay. No, you don’t have to come get me.”

“This is a private conversation,” Aegon’s free hand pinches the skin of your thigh, that devilish grin of his unwithering as he watches the subtle grind your hips give, fucking his finger deeper into the heat of your cunt. Even in anger, you want him. “Think I need to give her a present, something to keep her nice and stuffed,” he draws the word out, slipping a second finger into you.

You squirm away, for a moment, but his hand chases after you and you’re giving right in, at his mercy, one hand clutching the sheets, the other keeping the phone pressed tight against your ear. Two pumps of his fore and middle finger, until he lets them drift apart, a gentle stretch to your clenching walls.

“Or is my baby more of a Rose toy kind of girl, huh?” Whether on purpose or on instinct, words fall louder each time he opens his mouth. The very same mouth that’s leaning down to meet you in a gasp-worthy kiss, lips pressing sweetly against the throb of your clit, tongue coming out to play in a flurry of three kitten licks, all the while he works his wrist into a dull ache, each thrust forcing his fingers deeper than the last. “Something to soothe this little clit and something to fuck this tight pussy, is that what she needs?”

The hand on the mattress finds his hair, a harsh tug that has him parting with a few strands. He doesn’t care. In fact, he hopes the near-white locks get lost in your sheets if only to be found by a curious Aemond next time he can’t be bothered masking his way home and crashes at your place. What he wouldn't give to see the look on his brother’s face, holding up the hair to see it’s not even half the length of his well-groomed, pin-straight hair.

You’re talking again, doing your best to keep your voice neutral and your breathing even, hand still tangled in Aegon. He half expects you to pull again, kick him again. Tell him to focus on getting off of you, instead of getting you off. But you don’t do that. No, actually, you’re pulling him closer, keeping his mouth pressed to your soft skin, making sure his tongue continues to dance along the nerve-buzzing runway of your cunt, lapping up the taste of you till he’s sure it’s going to seep into his DNA, alter his genetic make-up so you’ll always be a part of him, even when you’re apart from him. 

The throb between his own legs is growing, pulsing your name in morse code. As much as he wants the sweet release of flipping you over, arching your back, and feeling your walls clench around the girth of his cock, he’s too attached to the taste of your skin, head burrowing itself deeper, nose smushed against your clit as the tip of his tongue knocks at your slit, soaked fingers spreading your lips open. His own desire will need to find a different method of salvation.

A free hand, switching between gripping at your waist and squeezing the meat of your thigh. It departs from your body with a muted hesitation, a momentary pause before it shrugs away his empty belt buckle and fishes out the lever to his zipper. A swift tug, his pants loosening their snug fit around his hips, leaving his fingers with the freedom to dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and grasp at his aching cock.

“Mhmm,” you almost moan, disguising it as an agreement to whatever his brother is saying to you now. In turn, Aegon lets himself give into it, moaning loud enough for the two of you, letting the sound vibrate into your soaked cunt. “Sorry, repeat that, I- I can’t hear you.”

Shameless as he’s always been, he lets his cock spring free from the confines of the nylon material, standing to attention and slapping against his lower stomach, the tip already dribbling with pre-cum.

“See how much I’ve missed her, baby?” This time, he’s talking to you, lips in a wicked grin, shining with your own wetness. Brushing dry fingers over the mess he’s made between your thighs, a mix of spit and arousal, he relishes in watching how easily you get his fingers soaked. One curl of three fingers, pressing teasingly at that spot he knows too well, then he’s pulling away, extending his hand out towards you. “Spit. Now.”

Your eyes watch his, wide and impatient. The cool air must be soothing, he thinks, brushing against your now abandoned pussy, yet he doubts you find any solace in it. You’ve always been the kind who wants to melt, not freeze.

Phone angled away from you, Aemond’s voice still pouring out its speaker, you lean forward and let it drip: a string of spit.

Basking in the proper attention you’re finally giving him, Aegon wraps the newly soaked hand around his cock, letting the head of it slap back against his torso before he really puts the mixture of your fluids to use. Tight fisted, lips parted, he finds himself leaning back on his haunches, free hand splayed out behind him and holding the weight of himself as he puts on a show for you, stroking his cock. The bed beneath you both creaks as he lets himself fuck up slowly into his hand, a cacophony of pretty moans and desperate whines filling the space between you. Can Aemond hear? God, he hopes so. 

The sight of your own hand snaking its way down between your legs is enough to remind him of his mission, the whole reason he’s not given into his want, his need to bury his cock inside you.

You barely brush over your clit before he’s slapping your hand away with a tut, a non-verbal protest as his lips reunite with your cunt, the hand between his own legs beginning a new pace, stroking over his hardness in rhythm with the strokes of his tongue and the speed of his fingers pumping into you.

Hang up, he wants to demand, but he’s got a mouthful of you and he intends to savour it until the end.

“Aemond,” your teeth bite down on your lip in sync with how his own drag over your clit, a silent warning against saying his brother’s name again. Next time, I’ll bite harder, he’s promising, only partially wishing you’ll tempt fate. “Shit, sorry, I have to go, I’m- yeah, next in line.”

Not even a goodbye.

Your thumb presses messily at the red button, the caller ID fading off your screen as the phone fades away into obscurity, left to get lost in the sheets as you give him what he’s been missing all alone, the sweet melody of moan, after moan, after moan falling from your lips, fingers pulling once more at the tresses of his hair.

“Hmm, d’ya think he can hear us, baby?” A nano-second, lips parted from your skin, his eyes flickering to the open window. “Think he’s out there waiting on your doorstep like a loyal hound, while you’re letting me get a taste of heaven?”

You’re close. He can see it, feel it, taste it, each stroke of his tongue greeted with a fresh wave of your sweetness. Both of you are a mess of unintelligible noises, hips rising off the mattress, and thrusting into open palms, sullying yourselves in the paint of pleasure. 

He calls your name softly, whiplash against the intense feeling swelling within you.

“Let me see it,” he’s begging, no shame. Glassy eyed, hungover, pussy drunk, wishing you’d give him the one thing he’s been missing all these weeks without you. “Cum. Go on. Cum for me. Please.”

The chord of tension snaps and at last you’re an uncontrollable mess beneath him. Eyes rolling back, back arching up, thighs shaking with a force of nature, the prettiest cries of his name. He’s there with you, the whole time, tongue, and mouth, and hand coaxing you through the maze of lust that consumes you in your orgasm, guiding you safely to the end.

You don’t calm with ease, still trembling as he places one last chaste kiss against you before he lets his face rest on the warmth of your thigh, smearing the stains you’ve left upon him onto your own skin as he continues bucking into his hand, each thrust more desperate, erratic, pathetic than the last, chasing the fast-approaching end.

Until your hand tugs at his hair and he’s frozen beneath your gaze, mouth hanging open, chest heaving in shallow breaths, hips stuttering as he fails to fully control his urges, the tip of his cock blushing red with angry desire, desperate for release. He’s awaiting your dismissal of his own touch, waiting for you to replace it with yours, remind him of just how well you know his body. Your hand does meet his skin, but not how he expects.

You slap him.

A sting in his cheek in the wake of it, and a rush of blood to his groin, eyes rolling back for a split second. “Hmm, next time hit me harder. Promise I won’t break.”

“How could you do that?” You heave out, no doubt intending your voice to hold more power, but it’s weak, and breathy, and turning him on even more. “Aemond was- He could’ve- Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

“If it’s any consolation, you tried. Haven’t answered my texts in weeks,” he’s aware he sounds desperate. Because he is. Or is that just his hangover again? “Would think you’d died or something, if I didn’t have to hear your name come out of Aemond’s mouth everyday.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s the one in the wrong.”

A blanket of silence engulfs you both, heavy and uncomfortable over your sweaty bodies. His hand still sits tight around the base of his cock, begging for attention, but he can’t bring himself to move.

Not until he knows you’re okay.

“I’m sorry,” the shape of it is foreign on his tongue, scarcely said and never with a speck of honesty. “I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I just- I guess I just thought if you remembered how I could treat you… thought if I could just make you feel good, you’d-” He cuts himself off, words hardly making sense in his own head.

You heave a sigh, smooth your hand down the side of his face that still stings. “You don’t just make me feel good. You make me feel better than anyone else, and that’s the problem. First man to touch me, and now all the others can’t compare.”

Aegon is a fiend for praise, so used to words of disappointment and looks of disgust. But then one day, he dove between a woman’s thighs and heard her calls of pleasure, listened as she praised his efforts, revered his good job, delighted in his skills upon the mattress. It’s no wonder he began to find solace in the pleasures of the flesh, the first and only thing he’s done right in his life. 

“You let others touch you?” A silly thing to get hung up on, yet he can’t let it slip away. The hand around his cock skates forward, stroking slowly before smoothing over the sensitive tip with the palm of his hand.

You nod your head.

“Sometimes. Guys can get touchy at frat parties, but I’m sure you know all about that.” He doesn’t bother to negate it, he knows you know him too well. No doubt Aemond shared every anecdote of Aegon during his short-lived frat days. A hiss slips past his lips as he continues the slow caress of his aching length. You clear your throat. “Stop denying yourself. Just cum, it’s okay.”

Sometimes, he can follow orders.

Especially one like this, that leaves him reaching once more for the sweet relief of release, wave after wave of it rolling down his spine as his hand works himself to completion.

“Can I,” he stutters over a moan, cutting himself off and getting swept away in the rapid currents of reignited lust, each touch more frantic than the last.

You finish the thought for him. “Cum on me, Aegon.”

White, thick, hot. Rope after rope of his spoils spill down onto your naked skin, a painting so beautiful he almost wants to picture it and sell it on as modern art. It’s better than anything Aemond’s ever made with his easel and brush.

Time melts away into nothing, fading to obscurity as he floats on cloud nine, body weightless, mind rested. Tingles down his spine, up his thighs, on his face where you still touch him, thumb smoothing over his cheek.

A giggle pulls his mind back into his body.

“I told you this wouldn’t happen again, and now look at me!” Your tone is softer than earlier, even if your voice has regained its usual energy. “God, I just might be the biggest idiot.”

“Don’t say that. You’re smart,” you shoot a sceptical look his way, wanting to negate him, but he doubles down. “You are. Don’t forget I know your best friend, I hear all the shit you’re achieving on that campus. You’ve got me beat, at least. Couldn’t even make it past my first year before I dropped out.”

“I look like I belong at some conceptualist’s art exposition on tribute pictures.”

“I could give you a real tribute picture,” his eyes are glued to yours, even as he swipes a finger over his cum upon your lower belly and brings it up to his mouth, teasing his tongue with the salty taste. “Just need my phone camera, a nice big cheesy grin from you, and a printer.”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Oh, I will.”

Throwing a leg off the bed, he tests his stability, hand reaching down to tuck his limp dick back into his trousers and zip the fly up halfway. Despite the dizziness that threatens to cloud his mind, he manages to get his second foot on the ground.

“I’ll leave you to your shower, sweaty,” he calls over his shoulder, making his way over to the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” He could almost coo at you, wide-eyed gaze, legs tangled in floral sheets. You’ve sat up, and don’t seem to care about the way his cum drips down you onto the bed. All you care about is him, even if it's just for a moment, and Aegon has to physically stop himself from stumbling back over and engulfing you with his body once more.

Instead, he leaves you with a shrug and a simple explanation, “you fed me, now let me feed you.”

By the time he’s got eggs cooking on the stove and bread warming in the toaster, the sound of running water fills your apartment. A familiar buzz rings out, leading Aegon over to where his phone lays, buried in the cracks between your couch cushions. The screen lights up.

One missed call - Mother. 

Unlocking at the sight of his face, he swipes up on the screen. It opens onto a chat log. Your chat log. His stomach drops as he scans over the messages, dreading what inebriated-Aegon had gone and texted.

Needyou - 04:47 am

Plase - 04:49 am

Thinik Imgonna K Hole in nnnnn bathroOm - 04:52 am

All three messages are in blue.

Beneath them, your reply lives in a muted grey bubble, yet it somehow has his eyes watering. Maybe he just needs to turn the screen brightness down.

Send me your address. I’ll be there ASAP - 04:53 am.

The pop of the toaster scares him out his own skin. He turns his head only to curse under his breath. Flames engulf the small frying pan, the food within charred black. He gives a gentle call of your name.

“I hope you like your eggs well-done.”

+extra hyde.

so, how are we feeling? do we want more of these two weirdos ( affectionate )?

i stopped doing taglists a while back bc i lowkey always forget about them but @481theralicat dmed me a while ago asking to be tagged if i ever wrote a second part to drummer!aegon and that message was partially what gave me the motivation to finish part 2, so i feel like the least i can do it tag them. i hope you enjoyed it & the wait was worth it <3