#A fic I can stop reading and choose a different one

[hshouse]

X

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

[slut4thebroken]

Sweet Dreams

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x daughter!reader

Summary | Tommy let’s you try some of his whiskey.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, actual incest, technically non con, large age gap (unspecified), breeding/housewife kink, somno, underaged drinking (pretend the legal age is 21 over there lol), kissing, praise, innocence & corruption kink, daddy but not the kink, I want him to take advantage of me so bad😭

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | I shouldn’t even have to say this but this is a work of fiction. Please remember that lmao. Also it’s unspecified but reader is at least 18 so don’t come for me 💀 It’s also unspecified on whether reader is his bio daughter or step daughter so feel free to choose lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

(You can only read this fic if you pinky promise to help me come up with a different title)

You were lying on his chest as he read a story to you, trying to get you to finally fall asleep. But your brain was too awake. When he grabbed his glass from the side table and paused reading to take another sip, you decided to ask him. 

“What’s that, daddy?” You angled your head up to look at his face. 

“It’s whiskey, love.” Your eyes moved between his face and the glass. 

“Can I try some?” You finally asked, making his brows shoot up. 

“This drink isn't for little girls. You’ll have to wait until you’re older.” He chuckled, making you frown. 

“Why can’t I try some now?” You pouted. 

“Because you’re too young, love. Give it a couple years, then I’ll let you have some.” You turned onto your stomach and leaned up to face him better. 

“Please, daddy?” You gave him puppy dog eyes and he stared at you for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. 

“Alright, fine. But just one sip.” You beamed at that and grabbed the glass when he handed it to you. Before tasting it, you decided to sniff it first, noting that it smells like how he sometimes smells. Not able to wait any longer, you took a small sip, then immediately scrunched your face up in disgust. He laughed quietly and you swallowed it, but that only made it worse. 

“It burns!” You whined, coughing lightly. 

“You get used to it, little one.” He said with an amused smile. “Try some more, it should be better this time.” You hesitated, but took another sip. It wasn’t better, it still burned a lot and you could barely take it. “Good girl. Have a little more.” 

“Daddy, it hurts.” 

“I know, love, but if you drink more it’ll stop hurting. Don’t you trust me?” You averted your gaze and bit your lip. After a moment, you brought the glass up to your lips again. “That’s my girl.” He said proudly, making you blush. You coughed again, but he wasn’t wrong, the burn was just barely starting to improve. 

“You’re such a good girl. Drink a little more for me, eh?” You pouted, but nodded and took another sip, this one slightly larger. “There you go… How do you feel, princess?”

“Warm.. n’fuzzy.” That made him laugh quietly. 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “That’s good. Can you do one last thing for daddy?” 

“Mhm.” You could feel yourself getting a little drowsier and you weren’t sure why. 

“Can you finish the rest for me?” You looked at how much was left and whined quietly, but agreed. Figuring it’d be better to get it over with quickly, you chugged the rest, ignoring how much your throat was hurting. “Good girl. You are such a good girl for me, baby.” He took the cup and set it on the side table, along with the book he was reading to you. “Tell me how you feel now.” 

“Mm… sleepy.” You mumbled, making him smile. 

“Don’t try to fight it, love, just go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime anyway.” You let out an incoherent agreement, then laid your head on his chest again, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. You weren't so tired that you fell asleep instantly, but you were tired enough where you could barely keep your eyes open. 

Tommy stared down at you as he stroked your hair, soothing you to sleep. You turned more on your stomach and lifted your leg so it was bent and resting over his legs. One of his hands moved down to your bare thigh and rubbed slowly, staying below the hem of your night dress. 

“My sweet girl.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. You hugged him tighter and he was suddenly very aware of your breasts against his side. “Getting so grown up…” He sighed solemnly. “Thought I told you not to do that? I oughta punish you for disobeying your father.” He suddenly squeezed your thigh and you let out a quiet noise, but didn’t react any other way besides that. 

He kept dragging his hand up and down your thigh, pushing your dress up a little higher each time. For a while, he continued that, waiting until your breathing slowed and you started to fall asleep. He smiled at the sound of your soft snores and brushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip— so soft… so kissable. He had to shake his head to get rid of the thought as soon as it appeared. You’re too innocent and pure. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he took that from you. But fuck… 

You smiled a little in your sleep and hugged him tighter, pushing your cunt against his hip as your leg rested on his crotch. He stiffened and bit his lip, trying to control his thoughts and his body. But he couldn’t help it when his hand drifted from your cheek to the strap of your dress. He teased it a little, silently debating if he should… It didn’t take much convincing though. 

Slowly pushing the strap down your arm, he just barely brushed his fingertips on your skin. He continued dragging it down until the nightie was being pulled as well, slowly exposing more of you. He only stopped once it was resting on your waist. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, staring at your young, perky breast and hardened nipple. He lowered his hand so it was holding your hip, then raised the one on your thigh to lightly trace over the soft skin. You just looked so young— so little. Especially when he cupped your breast, completely engulfing it in his hand. He knew that your pussy would be just as little. The thought had him biting his lip to stifle a groan, feeling his cock twitch in his pants under your leg. 

He squeezed and groped you slowly, being extra gentle while he still had the self control to do so. When he moved his attention to your nipple and started rolling it between his fingers, you let out a quiet little sound, just barely audible. 

He placed his palm flat on your chest and slowly snaked it down your body, to the bottom of your dress. Without any hesitation, he snaked his hand back up, taking the fabric with it. He cursed under his breath as more and more of your body was becoming visible.

You were perfect. You looked like innocence personified. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he gently pushed your shoulder to get you to lay on your back, making you whine quietly. 

“I know, sweet girl. It’s okay.” He whispered, kissing your head as he turned on his side to face you. He ran his hand over the soft skin of your tummy and down to your hips, where the plain cotton panties rested. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured, almost dreamily. As his hand continued to explore your body, he tugged down the other side of your dress, then moved his head closer and gently kissed your nipple. He took it into his mouth, suckling on the hard bud and moaning quietly against you. The only reaction you gave was a soft sound and a small shift of your body. 

“Are you gonna let daddy see your pretty pussy?” His voice was quiet, but thick with arousal. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.” He chuckled quietly, as he kissed over your breast, just enjoying having his lips on you. When you didn’t respond, he got up and moved between your legs, settling on his stomach between them. Rough hands were placed on your thighs, prying them apart to give himself more room. 

He leaned down and inhaled deeply, savoring your scent. With a low groan, he started mouthing at your cunt, licking and sucking through the panties just to tease himself. Your hips squirmed a little and a quiet moan left you, making his eyes snap up to your face, but you were still fast asleep. After only a few more seconds, he pulled back so he could move your underwear to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. 

“Do you like when daddy touches you like this? Is that why you’re so wet already?” He asked teasingly, not expecting a response. Using his thumbs, he pulled your folds apart, giving him a better view of your untouched pussy. “My perfect little girl…” He sighed, unable to tear his eyes away. 

He moved his thumbs closer and pulled your hole open a little, imagining how it’d look stretched open on his cock. The thought had him grinding against the bed like a fucking teenager. He desperately wanted to force his fat cock inside, split you open and push it in deep. He wanted you to cry and beg him to stop, to tell him how much he was hurting you. 

He wanted to bury his cock in your torn up, used little pussy, press the tip right up against your cervix and fuck you full of his come. He wanted to give you load after load, not stopping until he fucked a baby into you. Even though, realistically, that could never be allowed to happen, he enjoyed picturing you with a round belly, your breasts swollen with milk. He wanted to keep you at home, safe from the world, to raise all of the babies he fucks into you, cook him dinner every night, drain his balls whenever he needs it. 

“Fuck—” He choked out, suddenly getting on his knees between your legs, opening his pants to free his cock. He stroked himself slowly a few times, gaze dragging all over your body. “See what you fucking to do me?” He hissed, slapping his cock on your clit a few times. Practically holding his breath, he dragged the tip through your folds, covering himself in your slick. He held his cock right up against your entrance, breathing heavily and closing his eyes, shaking his head to convince himself not to do it. 

He’d hate himself for the rest of his life… But would that be worth it to feel you stretched past your limit around his cock? 

“No.” He decided, clearing his throat and opening his eyes again. “No. Not— not yet…” He leaned over your body, keeping his length firmly between your cunt and his stomach, then started grinding slowly. He watched your brows scrunch together a little when you felt the constant rubbing on your clit. 

Dragging his gaze over the rest of your face, he finally settled on your lips. He leaned closer, trying to steady his breathing as his eyes grew heavier until they finally shut, only a second before he pressed his lips to yours. You didn’t kiss back— obviously— but he enjoyed feeling your soft lips against his. Growing needier, his hips sped up as he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth, practically devouring you. 

You let out a muffled sound and started squirming a little, making him pull back. As he panted, he watched your heavy eyes trying to flutter open. 

“Daddy?” You mumbled, voice laced with sleepiness. “What…” You trailed off, unable to get out any other words, and he shushed you softly. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I’m here.. you’re okay.” He murmured, kissing your forehead and cupping your cheek, the movement of his hips never faltering. “Just go back to sleep. You’re safe with daddy.” And you believed him. You stopped trying to open your eyes and relaxed into the bed again. He resumed the kiss, keeping the intensity from before as he pushed his tongue in your mouth and moved his hand from your cheek to your jaw to tilt your head up a little more. 

“Daddy…” You tried to say, voice coming out in a pathetic, muffled whine. He hummed in response, not pulling back to bother with verbally replying. His free hand moved to cup your breast, groping and kneading until you were letting out quiet little sounds into the kiss. You whimpered when he started pinching and pulling on your nipple. 

“Shh… It’s okay, love.” He said softly, only pulling away to speak before immediately diving back into the kiss. His hand strayed from your breast, dragging all over your body, feeling every inch of skin possible. 

He broke away from your lips so he could trail kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. His cock throbbed at the idea of covering you in marks— claiming you so everyone knew who you belonged to. But he knew he couldn’t if he wanted this to happen again. So he continued kissing your skin, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. Everything about you was absolutely perfect. 

“I can’t wait to feel your cunt.” He whispered into the crook of your neck, his breathing growing more labored. “You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you? And all mine.” He was rambling as he neared his release, far quicker than he would’ve liked. “All fucking mine. You belong to daddy, eh? These perfect tits,” he suckled on your nipples, quickly and eagerly, “belong to daddy. Your pretty little cunt belongs to daddy.” He growled, cock twitching at the thought. “You’re mine.”

He cursed under his breath when he felt his balls tighten up. Lifting himself so he was sitting on his knees, he rapidly fisted his cock, keeping your panties pulled to the side. As soon as the first ropes of come shot out onto your cunt, he let out a low groan at the sight. He grunted and moaned, breathing heavily as he watched all of his come land on your folds. He waited until the last drop beaded on the tip, then dragged his cock through your slit, spreading his arousal. He moved it down toward your hole and just barely pushed his cock forward to get some of it inside.

“Good girl.” He said through a heavy breath, admiring you for another moment before fixing your underwear and night dress, then tucking his cock back in his pants. He stopped again and just stared at you for a few seconds. Your cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol and probably also the stimulation on your clit, and your lips were just barely parted as you breathed quietly. “Made daddy feel so good.” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. You let out an incoherent sound, making him smile. “Sweet dreams, little one.” 

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[jazzyoranges]

Can you write a friends with benefits situation Wednesday or Tara has with gp reader? Wednesday or Tara enforces a no strings attach policy but of course reader has to catch feelings and admits their feelings. It freaks Tara/wednesday and causes her to push them away and ghost them effectively hurting the reader who after a while tries to rebound with another girl causing major jealousy from Tara/Wednesday. You can choose the ending I just wanna see some jealous smut and angst mix in there 😩

She’s my Collar

Wednesday Addams x fem!werewolf!reader

Words: 4.6k (whoopsies)

Warnings: gp!reader, definitely ooc Wednesday, heat cycles, unprotected sex, knotting, explicit smut, everyone is 18+, Wednesday calls you a mutt and a puppy, breeding kink, is it really pet play if you’re actually a pet?, italian/spanish pet names and phrases, possessive Wednesday, fluff, angst i think

A/n: so sorry it took so long for me to write this anon who requested 😓 could be read as a prequel to this fic, but not specifically written as one. also i kinda strayed away from the original request, sorry about that too 😭🫶

MINORS DNI!

Wednesday didn’t want to admit it, but she was feeling a certain emotion that was completely undesirable. You’ve been out sick for an entire week. Wednesday hadn’t seen you in the last 8 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes. But who was counting? Definitely not the Addams girl

Others would say Wednesday looked the same as any other week, but Enid’s roommate senses were tingling. Constantly fiddling with her rings, the very prominent scowl on her face that was meaner than usual, and the common frustrated grunts when Wednesday would make a mistake with her writing. Something was up, and not even god herself couldn’t stop Enid from figuring it out

While Wednesday was smart in every aspect except social, Enid’s people smarts came in useful every now and again. It really didn’t take long for her to piece two and two together. Angry roommate while someone she frequently hung out with was out sick? It was child’s play, really. All she needed to do was have Wednesday come to the same conclusion as her

Easier said that done, really. Wednesday was a knucklehead not so smart when it came to emotions. Any emotion other than creating despair, Wednesday struggled with. Luckily Enid was dedicated and also a knucklehead

Currently Wednesday was seated at her desk, simply staring at a blank piece of paper without moving. On any normal day her fingers would be speeding across the typewriter with ideas constantly coming to her. Now she was met with absolute digital silence from her mind, which proved to be discouraging and inconvenient to say the least

“Alright, Wednesday. What’s going on?”

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been different this entire week. Spill the beans”

“As I’ve just said, I don’t have the information you want.”

“It’s because you haven’t seen her all week, right? You miss her, don’t you?”

“Why would I miss that mutt of a werewolf? I do not miss Y/n.”

“I never said her name, yet you know exactly who I’m talking about. Funny how that works, Wednesday” Enid teases. Her roomie has been caught red handed

“If you want your tongue, I’d recommend you stop talking.”

“Cmon, Wednesday, I’m being serious. It’s not weird to miss a friend. How about you check up on her?”

“First, I do not miss her. Second, she is definitely fine. I do not need to check up on her.”

“She’s been out sick for an entire week. She texted me just today the sickness isn’t showing any signs of stopping”

“Why has she not called the nurse, then?”

“She told me they ran out of the medicine she needs. The sickness is werewolf specific. I’ve gotten it before and it hurt like a bitch without medicine”

“What kind of school clinic runs out of medicine?” Wednesday says under her breath while getting up. Presumably to check on you, Enid assumes

“It’s really high in demand right now. It only infects werewolves, so you won’t catch it”

“I suppose I’ll ask Y/n on the specifics of her current condition. Perhaps it could be a part in my writings.”

“I’m sure it will be, Wednesday. Tell me how it goes!” Enid waves goodbye to Wednesday as she exits, and the Addams misses her roommates wolfish grin

Luckily your dorm isn’t too far away from Ophelia hall but it’s still a considerable walk to and from. The walk there gives Wednesday enough time to really question why she was doing this. She did not care for you, that was most definitely certain. At least that’s what Wednesday kept telling herself when she neared your room

The Addams girl hesitated before she knocked on your door. She could hear you whimpering and whining in pain, your tail quickly thumping against your bed. The shorter girl bit the bullet and held her fist against the door, quickly knocking on it

“Open up, Y/n or I’ll be forced to axe down your door.”

“Go away, Wednesday” Your voice was muffled

“Either I pick your lock or you open this door. Make your decision.”

Wednesday hears your feel shuffle to the door, and you open it just enough for your eye to peek out. Wednesday immediately notices your flushed skin and dark eye bags. You’re only wearing a tank top and boxers, trying to hide your lower body behind the door

“What do you want?” You spit out a bit more aggressively than you mean to

“I’ve come to check up on your illness”

“I’m uh- I’m okay. You can go now, Wednesday”

“You obviously aren’t, you haven’t gone to your classes all week.”

“Listen, I’m not actually sick. If I tell you what’s actually happening, promise you won’t freak out?”

“I promise.”

You suck in a breath to calm your nerves. “I’m in heat. The school clinic ran out of suppressants, so I haven’t been able to come to classes”

Wednesday looked you up and down, and in a split second she felt something she hadn’t before. Something about how your wolfish features came out. Ears were pressed against your head, tail hung low and swaying softly, and Wednesday noticed your fangs poke out when you spoke

“Let me help you.”

“W-What?” You momentarily stoped holding the door, and Wednesday let herself inside. Wednesday was immediately hit with a musk that was so… you. Werewolves weren’t her major, but she could tell you’ve marked your entire room with your own scent. Something about it made Wednesday’s mind think of all the unspeakable things she wanted to do to you

“Uh, sorry for the mess. And sorry for the smell, I know it’s bad…” You shift on your feet, and it’s only then Wednesday notices the tent in your boxers. Quickly mumbling out apology after apology, you move your tail so it covers your growing erection

“Stop apologizing, it’s getting quite annoying. I said I’d help you, did I not?”

“Help me like..?”

“Yes. Help you as in having sexual intercourse”

Your cheeks flush red and you have to actively stop your tail from wagging in excitement. Wednesday takes a step closer, but you take a step back

“A-Are you sure? You’re human, and I’m a werewolf. Your body isn’t designed to handle our heats”

Wednesday takes another step closer to you, grabbing your neck to make you look straight in her eyes. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your throat

“I decide what I can handle.” The shorter girl firmly gropes at your clothed erection, and you moan at the contact

“Wednesday, I-”

“A dumb puppy is what you are. Why didn’t you tell me you were in heat?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t think you’d care” When Wednesday starts to massage your clothed cock more roughly, she earns another moan out of your throat

“Please, please make it better, Wednesday. It hurts so fucking much” You whimper, and Wednesday wonders if you’d look good in a collar with her name on it. She’d have to save that idea for a different day.

“Puppy.”

“Wednesday?”

“Take everything off. I want to see all of you.”

Wordlessly, you start to strip, which doesn’t take long since you’re barely wearing any clothes. Your mindless obedience made Wednesday happy. You start with your tank top and the Addams chooses to observe every part of you. Wednesday notices you’re considerably more furry than usual, your happy trail showing just above your boxer briefs

“Are you sure?” You ask nervously when you reach your boxers, and Wednesday is getting considerably more impatient

“Do I have to do everything for you?” Wednesday mutters while she takes off your boxers instead. The shorter girl sucks in a breath when your hardened cock slaps against your stomach

Wednesday didn’t expect you to be so… lewdly big. Looking at the size of your erection only reminded her your body was meant to breed. You were designed to reproduce, and the thought turned Wednesday on more than she liked

The shorter girl pushes you onto your bed, and she takes a second to look at the state you’re in

“Please, Wednesday…” You whine

“Be patient, Y/n. You’ll get there eventually”

“It hurts so much, please I can’t wait” Begging harder, Wednesday doesn’t likehow her first instinct is to give you what you want

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. If you were any other person, I’d think this was dehumanizing.” She pushes you further back, licking a stripe up your tip and across a vein. You have to stop yourself from cumming embarrassingly quick

Wednesday keeps giving your shaft long kitten-licks and you’re in heaven when she finally decides to suck your tip with a new type of hunger.

And due to previous attempts at suppressing your heat by yourself, your cock was absolutely raw at how much you masturbated. It only made Wednesday’s tongue feel even better

She hollows out her cheeks, making your tip hit the back of her throat. This earns a groan from the back of your throat. You didn’t know if touching was allowed due to her track record of broken arms and hands, so you decide to play it safe by just holding onto your bedsheets for dear life

“F-Fuck, I’m about to-“ Before you can finish your sentence, Wednesday pulls away from your cock. The look on your face is something Wednesday would like to cherish. Your penis was twitching like crazy. It was drooling with pre-cum and the shorter girls saliva. She couldn’t help but admire how you shook under her

“Why’d you stop?” Whining seemed to be a strong suit of yours

“In me.” Wednesday wipes a bit of her saliva off her chin, and you swear it’s the most attractive thing ever “Now.”

“Huh?”

“You know what I mean. Really, do I always have to spell it out for you?”

“You have to cut me some slack here, Wens…”

“I suppose I could provide an understanding for your view. You’re nothing but a dumb pup, are you not? Your kind is known to follow orders.”

“I think you’re confusing me with a domesticated dog, Wednesday”

“If I were to demand you pluck stars from the night, you would, would you not?”

“I mean I would, but for different reasons…”

“My point still stands.” Wednesday mumbles, sinking down on your erection. You don’t remember when she got naked, but you’re also not exactly complaining

The Addams holds onto your shoulders for support, and you hesitate before putting your hands on her hips. Luckily you made the right choice, your warm hands directly polar to Wednesday’s.

It takes a little effort for Wednesday to completely take in your cock, but the stretch is worth it when she sees your labored breathing like she’s the best pussy you’ve ever had. Which, Wednesday wouldn’t admit she was proud of. She could feel every vein on your cock and every twitch made her spiral into thoughts of you

The sight is funny, you think. The Wednesday Addams is impaled on your cock. The Wednesday Addams that saved Nevermore. The Wednesday Addams that was notorious for being gorgeously scary. That Wednesday Addams was riding your dick like her life depended on it.

Skin slapping together was music to your ears, and the feeling in your lower stomach you recognized well was rapidly building up. Wednesday came with a hitch in her breath, and you reluctantly pulled out before releasing your own cum with a groan. Both of you are left breathing hard.

“There will be a silver bullet in your skull if you so much as think about telling anyone about this.” Wednesday mutters in between breaths.

“Duly noted.”

—

You’ve been in this arrangement with Wednesday for about 4 months, now

The first month consisted of a casual fuck here and there. After a particularly hard week, teachers being annoying, or a hard test. It wasn’t difficult to keep your situation away from your friends. For all they knew, you two were still the platonic match-made-in-hell duo that were strictly friends

The second month was a little harder to keep your situation away from your friends. Wednesday would randomly pull you into any empty closet or classroom she could for a quick orgasm to get her through the day

The third month was rough. You two went on dates as you liked to call it, but Wednesday would call them study sessions or hangouts. Trips to Jericho on the weekend, Wednesday helping you with botany, it was practically impossible to separate both of you. Unfortunately your friends became suspicious

So during the fourth month, a new vampire transferred to Nevermore. You were assigned to give her a tour of the school and her classes. When Wednesday saw you two hang out when you’d usually see the Addams, she suspected the tour went better than anticipated. What Wednesday expected to be a minor inconvenience for one day, caused her many unwanted thoughts. It made a vein pop out of her neck. (not literally, but that’s what it felt like)

Wednesday noticed how you two started spending more time together after and during school. Of course there was definitely a reasonable explanation, you were her only friend. Unfortunately a very minuscule part of her brain is telling her you like the new vampire more than the Addams. The thought didn’t sit right with her

You were supposed to be Wednesday’s. You were supposed to only have eyes for the Addams and not some vampire that doesn’t even make you half as happy as her. You would always be Wednesday’s. When you finally realized the vampire wasn’t enough to satiate your needs, Wednesday would be there. She would be there to catch your fall, and the thought made her uncomfortable.

Wednesday Addams, a feared individual that wore her heart tucked under enough layers of blunt sarcasm and a deathly scary look, yet once glance from you sent her spiraling into something between fear and love. She hated it. She hated you. Wednesday hated you for bringing this side out of her she swore to be kept away from the surface of her character.

The Addams couldn’t afford this. You were her weakness. You definitely knew this as well. Unwanted doubt flooded her mind. Thoughts that ended up with you exploiting her only weakness made her heart ache, and not in a way she enjoyed.

You would end up breaking off your relationship with the Addams, leaving her to be made a fool as you were the only one that could do it. The worst part is Wednesday couldn’t even be angry with you. She knew you deserved someone of your own kind. Another werewolf that would understand and satiate your needs. Wednesday would end the arrangement the next time she saw you.

—

“(L/n).”

“Wednesday?” You open up your door with a smile on your face. A sight for sore eyes is what you were.

“We cannot continue our arrangement.”

“What? What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wednesday wished she could take back her words, but she was doing this to keep herself safe. To make you happy.

“Our late night meetings can no longer continue. I’ve grown uncomfortable with your presence.”

“Wednesday, I-“

“A nuisance is what you are. You’re needy, and you can’t do anything by yourself. You really are just a dumb mutt. You are incapable of doing anything except cling to me like a lost child.” Wednesday spits out, and something akin to regret dawns on her face

Stray tears leave your eyes and you wipe them up as quickly as they fall, but Wednesday notices. She can tell you’re trying to be strong, your quivering lip giving you away

“I’m- I’m sorry you feel that way, Addams.” You say before turning your back on Wednesday, closing the door. Broken sobs escape your throat, and Wednesday brings her hand up to your doorknob. She thinks a little longer before a single tear falls from her eye. She turns to leave instead.

—

Three weeks, nearing four since you’ve last talked to Wednesday. You’ve been out for a week and a half and Wednesday knows exactly why. Since the Addams has been helping with your heats for the past few months, you haven’t needed to request for more suppressants. Neither you nor Wednesday knew why your heats were commonly hell-ish and lasted for weeks without the suppressants you desperately needed

Really, she could picture you right now. You would’ve found the boxers that created the least amount of friction, and you’d be whimpering and whining while your tail rapidly thumped against the bed mattress. Finding the nearest thing to bite, which usually happened to be your bed frame, you’d sink your teeth into the cold wood and find a splinter on your tongue the next time you brushed your teeth. Rinse and repeat until you eventually fell asleep or Wednesday saved you from your own body

It was pathetic how much you constantly needed Wednesday…and consequently, how much Wednesday needed you.

Disgusting is the only word Wednesday can choose when thinking of how much space in her mind you took up. She was seated in the Quad while eating an apple and contemplating her life. Which, was not in an ideal situation.

“I know you want to talk to her, Wednesday” Enid takes a seat near the shorter girl

“I do not.”

“I know for a fact you didn’t mean what you said. Unfortunately, you’re too stubborn to realize it”

“She has that new girl, does she not?”

“For the last time, Wednesday, they aren’t dating”

“They may as well be. The two are practically attached at the hip”

“So were you two, but then you decided to fuck it all up and haven’t talked to her since” Enid groans. This is was going to be harder than she thought

“Wednesday, you know how much I love you, right?”

“Annoyingly so.”

“Not-so-respectfully, you fucked up really bad. I know you didn’t mean it, but would you rather see her kiss another girl, or would you rather be the girl she kisses?”

The question makes Wednesday hesitate, and relief washes over Enid. Did she want to be with you? She mentally scoffs at the thought. The Wednesday Addams uncharacteristically soft for a girl. Outrageous. Disgusting. Absolutely unheard-

“Well, it seems you have your answer. Talk to her right now, ‘kay?” Enid knew her roomie would do the right thing even if it was gut wrenchingly difficult

The shorter girl only responds with a grumble, but it’s enough of an answer for Enid to skip away and continue being the social butterfly she was. Wednesday was going to… apologize to you. Just thinking of the word made her recoil, but it was you she was going to. As much as Wednesday didn’t like apologizing, she didn’t want to admit the thought of being away from you any longer was the worse option

She was almost in the same exact situation almost five months ago. Only this time you were sad, and it was Wednesday’s job to make you feel better (in more ways than one)

It didn’t take long getting to your dorm. She knew all of the correct routes and shortcuts to take. Wednesday was met with a tightly locked door and a knob that had collected dust after the past week and a half. She brought a hand to the door, knocking loudly

The Addams was only met with silence. That is, silence, with the exception of stray whines and whimpers

“It’s Wednesday.” Silence again.

“I know you’re in there. Ignore me and I’ll find other means to see you.” More silence

“You’ve made your decision.” The shorter girl sighs, taking a lock pick from her uniform pocket. Why she had a lock pick? For important situations like these, of course

When Wednesday finally managed to unlock your door, she noticed how you looked considerably worse than the first time the Addams decided to help you with your heat

What Wednesday didn’t expect was you fully naked sprawled on your bed. Bite marks littered your bed frame and a chew toy Wednesday bought to mock you, but it ended up being somewhat helpful. A low quality fan spun, only making your scent waft around the room even more. An air freshener was mentally added to her list of things to buy

“Go away, Wednesday.” You growled. You never growled. “If you’re here to mock me and call me a nuisance, I’d recommend you leave”

“I came to help.”

“You’ve full of bullshit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not lying, Y/n.”

“Go away, Wednesday, I’m not going to say it again.” The Addams only took this as an invitation to step closer to your bed where you were laying face down and a light blanket to cover your ass

When you only heard footsteps near, something inside you snapped. You were a werewolf. Not a puppy that said please with a tail between your legs. No, you would make Wednesday leave. Also you were sexually frustrated while in heat, so that was definitely fuel to your sour mood

Before she could register what had happened, you pinned the smaller girl to the floor. Your pupils contracted into small circles while there was a permanent snarl on your face

“I said, go away.” Your erection accidentally brushes against Wednesday’s thigh, and she was suddenly aware of how much self control you had for not already relentlessly stuffing the shorter girl full of your cum

“Knot me, cucciola.”

When the words leave Wednesday’s mouth, something in you changes. You’re overcome with sinful thoughts, and your cock starts to drool with precum at the image of Wednesday being full of you. It’s sinful, truly

“Is that why you came here? Just to be bred?”

“No, but it seems my words are working. You’re incredibly hard.” The shorter girl grabs your erection, jerking you off roughly

“Puppy.”

“Don’t… don’t call me that.” You say in between moans. Wednesday starts to sit up, and your back meets the side of your bed frame

“Cucciola wants to breed?”

“F-Fuck you.”

“We’re getting there, mi sol” The pet name accidentally slips, but you’re far too blissed out to notice

“She can’t make you feel as good as me, can she?”

“W-What? Who are you talking about?”

“You know who. The vampire that can’t get her hands off you.”

“Wednesday, we’re no-“ The shorter girl only started to stroke you faster. Her hand barely fit around your cock, but it still felt like heaven

“I don’t- I don’t like her that way” You say in between moans. Your orgasm was nearing and Wednesday knew this. She slowed down her pace, and you whined at the sudden loss of stimulation

“Knot me.”

“Huh?”

“Show me you don’t like her the way you like me.” You only notice your proximity after she speaks. Your noses are only inches apart. Wednesday’s eyes flick down to your lips, and you quickly close the distance

Wednesday was an addiction. Nicotine, acid, weed, none of it compared to how you felt while kissing Wednesday. You’d get drunk off her taste and crave it until she was in your arms once again. It was hell without her

When the shorter girl accidentally grinds on you, a surge of lust runs through your body. You quickly pick her up with your lips still attached to hers and take off her skirt. You couldn’t go another second without being in Wednesday

Sinking her onto your hardened erection, you let out a gasp of pleasure when her velvety walls stretch at your intrusion. You’re holding up her body by her thighs, and Wednesday just wishes you’d go faster.

“Cucciolo, ti amo.” The Addams moans when she looks down to see she’s only taken half of your length in her pussy. The sight is rather lewd, Wednesday thinks. Your cock is absolutely dripping with pre-cum when you push yourself further in her

“Mierda. Más, cachorro. Tan bueno para mi.” Wednesday slips into her native tongue. You haven’t seen her like this any other time she’s… helped you out

Bringing your lips to hers again, you decide to be in control when you push your tongue into her mouth. Eyes half lidded, bangs sticking to her forehead, and hair a bit disheveled, you think she’s never been prettier.

You let Wednesday rest a bit before sinking your cock deeper into her cunt, and the Addams ends up scratching you hard enough small amounts blood start to drip down your back. The sensation takes you by surprise. Accidentally bucking your hips up further into Wednesday, the girl lets out a groan as she fully takes your length in her pussy.

Placing her on the bed, you notice a tiny bulge in her stomach. You decide to be bold. Pressing your thumb against the intrusion, you hear a sound you’ve never heard before

Wednesday whimpers at your touch.

You do it again.

Her cunt squeezes around your cock, making it harder for you to keep thrusting. But you’re a wolf in heat and Wednesday is incredibly horny, so you continue your movements.

“Sh-She’ll never- she’ll never be as good as you, Wens…” An unexpected growl comes from deep within your throat

“No one can take my cock as good as you…” You’re thrusting considerably faster when Wednesday looks back down at where you two meet. The scenario folding out is a sight for sore eyes, the Addams thinks. You, feeding into your primal urges like it’s an unstoppable beast; and Wednesday willingly taking it in however she can.

“Cara mia.”

“Mine… mine all mine. No one else but mine…” You whimper a little pathetically, but the girl below you is only focused on your thrusts. Her cold hands find their way to your back again, leaving a trail of blood behind

“Yours, puppy. All yours.” Wednesday feeds into your possessive behavior. She knows she shouldn’t, but with you thoughts of reason leave her head and are replaced with thoughts of you

“Were you serious about the knotting, Wens?”

“Deathly.”

“Are you- mph~ sure? It’s kinda big…” The girl under you looks down again, and your ever growing knot seems to just be getting bigger and bigger. Even horny out of your mind, you still wanted to make sure your mate was alright.

…you decide to ignore that thought.

Your eyes were trained on how your erection stretched out Wednesday. Her pussy would be yours, and yours alone. Nobody would make her feel as good as you did. You’d make sure she wouldn’t need anyone else’s cock but yours.

A breathy moan erupts from your throat when you start to actively try to push your knot into Wednesday

“Relax for me Wens, it’ll never go in unless you want it too” You feel her tensed under your touch, but your words are enough for her to relax

Every thrust you get closer, until you eventually start to reach your peak. You can tell Wednesday is too. Her hair is messy and both of your bodies are littered with marks of possession.

“I-I’m so close Wens…” Are the last words you say before succeeding in pushing your knot into the Addams girl. You cum inside of Wednesday’s pussy, and the swell of your knot inside her is enough for Wednesday to cum impaled on your cock. The feeling of being full is an experience Wednesday wished she did with you far sooner.

You wiggle your hips to seemingly get more comfortable inside of Wednesday, but the movement only makes her moan. She was sensitive as hell.

“…was that enough proof I like you more than I like her?”

“More than enough, (Y/n).”

[satangcrush]

sorry into obey me and would like to know who are some good fanfic writers that you recommend?

there are a lot in the fandom! ill try my best to recc some to you based on different categories:

sfw:

- @lucifersdickriderdotnet : if you are a lucifer fan and you would like to dive more into the brothers’ relationship! bee is a really great writer as well and you won’t have any regrets checking out her fics 🥹 these are my favs: link, link, link (this is x reader but still recc this bc I love it) (bee please create a masterlist i was dying linking everything)

- @romcomeon (x reader): eden is very good at concepts! they have a variety of fics for you to choose for; (my big personal fav is their solomon zombie fic) and I love that they’re always experimenting with different universes and putting the characters in them, you can find their masterlist here

- @fandoms-x-reader (x reader): they’re always writing about a variety of situations in the obey me universe! this is mainly the whole cast, so if this is your vibe, you can check them out :> linked their masterlist here!

- @sakkajagga (x reader): love love love their writing so much. you won’t regret checking them out. this is their sfw obey me masterlist ; highly suggest reading all of their simeon fanfics because they just do the angel justice

- @beels-burger-babe (x reader) : they have a variety of works on their page but my personal favs is their teen mc which you can find here

- @lost-in-lamentation (x reader) : this is my fav from her and you can find her masterlist here

- @fickleminder (x reader; mostly sfw with some suggestive) : if you are a satan lover, this is the user for you lol, this is FM’s masterlist here and my personal fav is this (love the comedy here lmao)

nsfw (minors pls dni ok):

- @mammonsrockstargf (x reader): alba has a way with words that just draws you in with her writing 🫡 you can find her masterlist here (personal fav is solomon 700 wives LOL)

- @another-lost-mc (x reader & world-building + ocs): love love love jes’s works. you won’t regret checking out her whole masterlist fr, also what I love about jes is that she takes what is given in canon and expands greatly on them. so if you like world building / reading about ppl’s ocs, she’s a great one to check out!

- @onyourowndaisymae (x reader): you can find daisy’s masterlist here and this is my personal fav, Solomon’s bunny service ;;;;;;;; (don’t perceive me thank u) daisy is also really good at characterising the characters and it shows through her writing, this is one of my fav for lucifer

- @misc-obeyme (x reader & ships): love CC’s writing so much, this is their masterlist and this is my favourite 🫡🫡🫡 (do NOT perceive me again.) they also don’t just do x reader, they also do some ships (etc barbatos x mammon, if that interests you!)

-

also if you don’t mind NSFW, I recommend that you go through my tag : #satangfavs (pls click on the tag below bc idk how to link it on mobile LOL) because these are some of my favs that ive read in the fandom <3

and also lastly, there are just so many good writers in the fandom that it’s absolutely impossible to condense all into a single post (I was actually dying linking everything LOL 😭 had to stop for my own sake). I may make another follow up to this if ure still interested :> (u can tell me more abt ur criteria and ill try to cater to it lmao)

anddd with that, I hope you enjoy reading everything!

edit #1: since this is getting traction, im going to promote myself here shamelessly too 🤗 pspspspspsppspsps i have a writing blog over at @satanghulu <3 thank you for reading 🫵

edit #2: check out the reblogs for more reccs too!!! thank u very much 👍

Edit #3: another anon asked for more reccs, so this is another post tada!!!!!!!!!! Yippee bye

[randomdragonfires]

Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Part Three

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The music blares and everyone’s out of it, but she turns and sees him. Detached from it all, Aemond stands on the balcony with a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips - watching the party unfold, watching her. The realization hits her as their eyes meet.

It’s him. It’s always been him. 

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Non-Con and Violence Elements; Use of Substances and Alcohol; Complicated Relationship Dynamics.

PAIRINGS | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader [MAIN]; Modern!Daeron Targaryen x Reader

WORD COUNT | 24.5k [I'M SORRY]

Check out the art created for this fic by the lovely, talented and so very kind @azperja here!  

A/N | By now it's obvious. I really don't beta read things -_-

She starts with small changes. 

She takes different routes around campus, chooses study spots on the opposite end of the library, and declines any parties where she might run into him. They’re usually in different parts of the campus anyway, so avoiding him should be easy. But it isn’t. They run in the same circles, and all her friends know him. She has to be mindful, strategic, careful not to linger in places where their paths might cross.

The one shared class they have is her biggest challenge. She slips into the lecture hall just as the professor begins, taking a seat in the back, hidden among the sea of students. She keeps her head down, her attention fixed on her notes, refusing to let her eyes wander to where she knows he’s sitting.

But she feels his presence, even without looking. She can sense the way his gaze lingers on her, like a weight pressing on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of her willpower to ignore it, to pretend she doesn’t notice, that she isn’t affected by it. She keeps her mouth shut, barely even acknowledging the professor, just so Aemond won’t have a reason to notice her.

But he’s seen her. She knows he has. And yet, he hasn’t made any attempt to approach her. He hasn’t tried to talk to her after class, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even sent a cryptic message through a mutual friend.

The silence from him is both a relief and a torment. On one hand, she’s grateful that he’s giving her space, that he’s not forcing her to confront what happened. But on the other, she can’t help but wonder why. Why hasn’t he reached out? Does he understand that she needs space, or is he simply indifferent?

The conflicting thoughts whirl around her mind, making it impossible to focus. She’s avoiding him, yet she can’t stop thinking about him. She wonders if he’s reached the same conclusion she has - that whatever happened between them was a mistake. Or maybe… maybe the girl he’s seeing is back, and he’s realized that what they had was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that he regrets.

The thought makes her skin crawl.

It stings more than she’d like to admit. It’s ridiculous, she tells herself. She should be glad that he’s keeping his distance. It’s what she wanted, after all. But the doubts creep in, feeding the anxiety that’s been gnawing at her ever since that night.

Her finals don’t help either. The pressure to perform well, to maintain her grades, is a vice around her chest. She spends long hours in the library, her nose buried in textbooks, trying to drown out her thoughts with the relentless march of deadlines and exam schedules. But he is a constant presence at the back of her mind, and she cannot shake him off.

The final exam of the semester passes in a blur, each answer she scribbles onto the paper feeling more mechanical than the last. When it’s over, she walks out of the exam hall with a numbness that clings to her. The weight of the past weeks - the stress, the sleepless nights, the constant battle to keep her emotions in check - finally catches up with her.

She spends the entire day holed up in her flat, the blinds drawn to keep out the bright summer light. The silence is thick, the hours stretching on as she flits from one distraction to another. She tries reading, but the words blur together on the page. She turns on the laptop, but the shows barely hold her attention. Even scrolling through her phone feels empty.

As the afternoon fades into evening, a slow realization dawns on her: she can’t keep hiding forever. The exams were a temporary distraction, an excuse to avoid dealing with everything she’s been running from. But now that they’re over, she’s left with nothing but her thoughts - and the gnawing certainty that she can’t keep avoiding Aemond.

He’s likely finished his exams too, probably somewhere out there, living his life as if nothing’s changed. The thought brings a fresh wave of frustration. He hasn’t reached out to her, hasn’t made the slightest effort to clear the air.

It’s almost as if he’s content to let things remain as they are. But she's not.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that waiting for him to make the first move is futile. He’s not going to reach out, not after the way she’s been avoiding him. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing - that she doesn’t want to see him, that she’s already moved on.

The idea of confronting him terrifies her, but the thought of continuing on like this - of pretending that she can keep dodging him forever - is worse. She can’t live in this self-imposed exile, trapped by her own fears and doubts. If there’s any hope of moving past this, of getting closure, she needs to take the first step.

With a deep breath, she makes up her mind. The decision brings a strange sense of calm, like a weight being lifted from her chest. She can’t predict how it will go, but at least she’ll be taking control, no longer at the mercy of her own avoidance.

The evening sky outside her window is turning shades of pink and orange, and for the first time in days, she feels a spark of determination. She’s not going home for the summer, and neither, as far as she knows, is he.

There’s no more running, no more hiding.

Her eyes settle on Aemond - sprawled across his bed, completely at ease, as if he’s got not a care in the world.

The familiar scent hits her first - weed, strong and pungent, curling through the air and invading her senses. She pauses at the threshold, taking it in, before leaning against the doorway.

He doesn’t notice her at first. He’s too absorbed in the book he’s holding, his fingers lazily turning a page. She can’t make out the title, but she recognizes the Valyrian text on the cover, the ancient script curling elegantly along the spine.

For a moment, she watches him. There’s a strange, almost surreal quality to the scene - like she’s an outsider looking in on his life. His face is calm, his expression softened in the dim light, but there’s a tension in his posture, a quiet restlessness that she can’t quite place.

“So this is what you do when you’re high? Read Valyrian books?”

“They’re interesting,” he replies, his voice casual, detached. He doesn’t look at her, his eye still roving over the page, words spilling out as if she wasn’t there. Almost as if they hadn’t been icing each other out for weeks.

She doesn’t know what to say. The weight of their silence presses heavily down on her chest. She hesitates, her mind racing, but before she can form a coherent thought, he gestures toward her, a lazy wave of his hand as he adjusts himself on the bed.

“Come here.”

It’s not a request; it’s a command, spoken with the kind of casual authority that’s so inherently him. She swallows hard, the tension in her stomach coiling tighter. Part of her wants to resist, to stay rooted in place, but there’s another part of her - smaller, more vulnerable - that aches for the familiarity of being close to him again.

She pushes off the doorway, her steps slow and hesitant as she crosses the room. The air feels warmer near him, the scent of weed and smoke mingling with the faint smell of his cologne, a combination that’s both comforting and disorienting. When she reaches the bed, she pauses, unsure of what to do, where to sit, what to say.

Aemond looks up at her then, his gaze locking onto hers. There’s something different in his eye now, something softer, more aware. It’s like he’s really seeing her for the first time since she walked in.

He nods and she gives in, sitting down beside him, the mattress dipping under her weight. There’s a tension between them, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment, but for now, it holds.

She hesitates for a moment, then slowly lies down next to him, feeling the warmth of his body radiate through the thin fabric of her shirt. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts slightly to make room for her, and as she curls into the mattress, he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer.

His hand rests on her side, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on her skin through the fabric, the movement steady and soothing. She feels his breath against her hair, steady and calm, and for a moment, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to melt into him.

She takes her time, letting her gaze drift over him, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his hair falls messily across his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The book is still in his other hand, balanced carefully as he continues to read, the pages illuminated by the dim light of the bedside lamp. He’s so absorbed in it, yet his hold on her is firm, as if he’s anchoring both of them to this moment, this shared silence.

She shifts slightly, her head resting on his shoulder as she glances at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

He pauses for a moment, his fingers stilling on the page as he looks down at her. “It’s called The Last Embrace.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He chuckles softly at her remark, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through his chest. "It’s a Valyrian classic," he says. “I know someone who can find the premium first edition copies.”

“Hm.” She moves into him, and his hand roves over her clothed back, warmth seeping through. She nestles against him, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Read to me?” She asks softly, almost shyly, as if the request might shatter her pride.

He considers her for a moment, then gently adjusts his position, making sure she’s comfortable as he continues from where he left off. With his arm still wrapped around her, holding her close, he begins to read. The words flow from his lips - his voice deep and rich as it carries and fills the quiet space between them. She listens, captivated by the way he brings the story to life.

One word in particular catches her attention, its lilting syllables intriguing. She stops him, her gaze curious. “What does that mean?”

He looks down at her, his gaze tender and slightly dazed. “Gevie means ‘beautiful,’” he explains, his tone mellowed by a subtle high. She repeats the word, her attempt tentative. “Gevie.” Her pronunciation falters, and he gently corrects her, his voice a soothing murmur. “Gevie,” he reiterates, his lips curving into a soft smile.

She tries again, her voice more confident, “Gevie,” and he nods in approval, his hand squeezing lightly on her arm, a touch that sends a shiver down her spine.

The reading continues, and she’s captivated by another word. 

“Jorrāelagon,” she asks. “And this one?”

“It means ‘love.’” He replies, his eyes soft and hazy, the high giving his voice a languid quality that almost lulls her to sleep. She echoes. “Jorrāelagon,” but her pronunciation is awkward at the first try. He guides her gently, his voice dropping as he enunciates the word.

 “Jorrāelagon.”

She repeats the word again, and he nods, pleased. She doesn’t want to dwell on how pleasing him feels.

When they reach 'Vūjigon', she leans in closer, her curiosity and desire blending seamlessly. “What does this one mean?”

“To kiss,” he murmurs, his gaze growing more intense. She wonders if she’s seeing the slight red on his cheeks, or if it’s actually there. She repeats, “Vūjigon,” her pronunciation faltering again. He corrects her, his voice a velvety whisper.

As she practices the word, the anticipation builds between them. Her body shifts, aligning with his, and she straddles him, her movements deliberate and sensual. The mattress dips under her weight, and she feels the heat of his body radiate through the thin fabric of their clothes. His hands find her sides, gripping firmly but tenderly, his touch sending electric currents through her skin. She leans in closer, their foreheads touching, and she inhales deeply. The scent of his cologne mixes with the distinct smell of the weed. The high he's on adds a dream-like quality to his touch and his gaze, making every sensation more vivid and intense.

“Vūjigon,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. The correct pronunciation flows from her lips, and the air between them is heated and heavy.

His eye darkens with desire as he gazes at her, the effect of the high amplifying his senses. He responds to her unspoken invitation, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that is both urgent and tender. The kiss deepens quickly as his hands move to her waist, pulling her closer, the heat of his touch igniting a fire within her.

His hands tighten on her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she can feel the hard line of his desire pressing against her. The sensation sends a shudder through her, a wave of heat that pools low in her belly.

This is happening, this is truly happening-

His kisses are a heady mix of passion and need, his tongue exploring her mouth with a fervor that leaves her breathless. She responds in kind, her own desire spiraling out of control as her fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently as she presses herself against him. The weight of him beneath her, the feel of his body so close, so real, is intoxicating.

With a low, rough sound in the back of his throat, he flips them over, his body covering hers, pressing her into the mattress. His hands are everywhere - roaming her sides, cupping her breasts, sliding down to grip her hips. The urgency of his movements is matched by the haze of the high, adding a surreal, almost dream-like quality to the moment.

She arches into him, her back curving as she seeks more of his touch, more of the heat that’s building between them. His mouth leaves hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, until he’s tugging her shirt aside, his lips finding the sensitive skin beneath. Every touch, every kiss, feels amplified, the high making her hyper-aware of every sensation.

He’s moving with purpose now, his hands tugging at the waistband of her pants, sliding them down her hips with a practiced ease. She helps him, kicking them off, leaving her bare beneath him. He follows quickly, discarding his own clothes until there’s nothing between them but heated skin.

His hands are back on her, rough and gentle all at once as he positions himself between her thighs. She feels the blunt pressure of him at her entrance, the anticipation so sharp it almost hurts. She meets his gaze, his eyes dark and blown with lust, the effect of the high making them seem even more intense. He pauses, just for a moment, his breath ragged. “I’m on the pill,” she murmurs, as if sensing his hesitation.

He thrusts into her with a single, powerful stroke.

The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that has her gasping, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he fills her completely. He stills for a moment, letting her adjust, his forehead pressing against hers as he takes a shuddering breath.

Then he’s moving, his hips snapping against hers in a rhythm that’s fast and unrelenting. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through her, the friction, the heat, the intensity of it all pushing her closer to the edge. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her own hips meeting his in a desperate attempt to keep up with the pace he’s set.

His breathing is ragged in her ear, a rough counterpoint to the smoothness of his movements. She can feel him tensing, the way his thrusts grow more erratic, more desperate, as he nears his own release. His hand moves between them, fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

With a low growl, he slams into her one last time, his body tensing as he comes hard, the force of his orgasm shaking him. He rides it out, his hips still moving in shallow thrusts as he chases the last remnants of pleasure.

But he doesn’t stop. Even as his breathing slows, his hands remain on her, one sliding down her body until his fingers are slipping between her folds, finding the wet heat there. He pulls out of her slowly, and she whimpers at the loss, but the sound quickly turns to a moan as his head dips between her thighs.

His mouth finds her, his tongue licking a slow, teasing stripe up her center before his lips close around her clit. He sucks gently, his fingers pressing inside her, filling her again as he works her with a relentless, skillful rhythm. She’s already so close, her body still buzzing from the intensity of what they’ve just done, and it doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build again, fast and unstoppable.

As his mouth works her, his tongue drawing her closer and closer to the edge, he lifts his head just enough to murmur against her skin, “Gevie… ao gevie issi, jorrāelagon.”

His voice is thick with desire, the words rolling off his tongue with a reverence that sends shivers down her spine. She’s too far gone to try and grasp the meaning, her mind clouded with the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving her. But something about the way he says it, the heat in his voice, makes her gasp.

“What… what does that mean?” she manages to ask between moans, her voice breathless, shaky.

He doesn’t answer right away, his mouth returning to her with renewed focus, his fingers curling inside her in just the right way. The pleasure is dizzying, her body trembling as she’s pushed closer to the brink. When he finally speaks again, his words are low and guttural, vibrating against her skin.

“Gevie… beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with lust as he looks up at her, his eye dark and filled with heat. “Jorrāelagon… love.” His hand moves in sync with his words, drawing more moans from her lips, her mind barely able to process the translations as the pleasure intensifies.

Her body arches into him, desperate for more, needing more, and he gives it to her, his fingers working her relentlessly. She’s on the edge, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps, when he murmurs one last word against her skin.

“Vūjigon,” he says, the word slipping from his lips like a caress, his voice deeper, rougher, as he lifts his head to look at her, his gaze burning into hers.

“Kiss,” she breathes, finally understanding, the realization sending a fresh wave of desire crashing over her. Her body moves of its own accord, her hips grinding against his fingers as she chases the release that’s just out of reach.

He doesn’t give her time to dwell on it, his mouth returning to her with a fervor that’s almost too much to bear. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and need that builds and builds until she’s teetering on the edge, her mind a haze. Her hips lift off the mattress, seeking more, needing more, and he gives it to her, his tongue and fingers moving in perfect harmony until she’s falling over the edge, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. She cries out, her hands fisting in his hair as he pushes her through it, his mouth never leaving her until she’s trembling with the aftershocks, her body spent and sated.

When he lays back down and his lips meet hers, she thinks there could be no better feeling than being held in his arms.

The fact that he may still have another woman in his life slips her mind completely.

Tonight, he is hers.

The morning after, he's gone off for an early class, leaving her to rest. She finds The Last Embrace on his nightstand and picks it up, her nimble fingers turning the pages as she scans his notes scattered throughout the book.

Love is a disease of the mind, but one we willingly suffer for.

It’s the kind of observation she can easily imagine him making aloud, his voice detached yet tinged with a subtle irony. She almost pictures him writing it, pausing to consider the implications of the passage before inscribing his thoughts with careful precision. It’s a stark reminder of how his mind works - always a step removed, always observing from a distance, even when he’s most deeply involved.

It’s so very Aemond, the way he can reduce something as chaotic and overwhelming as love to a mere intellectual curiosity, and yet, in doing so, reveal more about himself than any grand declaration ever could.

A small smile plays on her lips as she closes the book, gently smoothing the folded corner.

She least expects it, but it hits her with the force of a brick wall when it does.

She finds herself at Aemond's apartment again, perched on the familiar countertop in his kitchen, picking at a bowl of leftover pasta he’d casually reheated for her. Aemond stands at the stove, his attention focused on a kettle of water beginning to steam. He moves with his usual grace, every action deliberate and precise, but there’s something slightly different about him today—a subtle energy that she can’t quite place.

Almost offhandedly as he reaches for a mug, he speaks. “I might not be around tomorrow night. I’ve got…plans.”

He says it so casually, the words slipping out as though they’re of no consequence. But there’s a flicker of something in his tone, something that makes her glance up from her bowl, her curiosity piqued.

“Plans?” she echoes, trying to keep her voice light, nonchalant, though a strange tightness begins to form in her chest.

“Yeah,” he continues, filling the mug with hot water before turning back to her, his expression as composed as ever. “Dinner, actually. With someone.”

The way he says it - "with someone" - is so deliberately vague, so carefully chosen, that it sends a chill through her, the pieces beginning to fall into place. The quiet confidence in his voice, the way he doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t feel the need to explain. It’s a subtle giveaway, but one she can’t ignore.

“Oh,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping back to her bowl, her appetite suddenly fading. She forces herself to take another bite, though it tastes like ash in her mouth. “That sounds…nice.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his tone so matter-of-fact, so indifferent, that it stings more than anything else. “It should be.”

For a moment, she doesn’t know what to say, the silence between them suddenly feeling heavier, more oppressive. The realization settles in slowly, a painful clarity that makes her heart ache. To him, what they have is just…convenient.

He isn’t even trying to hide it. The ease with which he mentions his plans, the lack of any concern for how she might feel about it—it all points to one thing. 

Casual. Non-exclusive.

Then again, he made no promises.

The realization - reminder, if she was being practical - is a bitter pill to swallow, and she fights to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to betray the sadness that’s creeping into her. She allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this. But now, sitting there on his countertop, she sees it for what it truly is.

“Enjoy your dinner,” she says, her voice sounding distant to her own ears as she pushes the half-eaten bowl away and slides off the counter. She offers him a small, strained smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Thanks,” he replies, his gaze flicking over her briefly before returning to the kettle, as if her words are of no particular importance.

As she moves to grab her bag, her movements slow and deliberate, Aemond turns to look at her. The casual indifference that colored his words just moments before falters when he sees the expression on her face - something distant, guarded, as though she’s trying to shield herself from the truth that’s just settled between them.

“You’re upset,” he says, not as a question but as a statement, his tone flat. He’s always so direct, so infuriatingly precise in his observations, as if everything in the world can be neatly cataloged and understood.

She hesitates, her back to him as she reaches for her bag, fingers brushing over the strap, but she doesn’t pick it up right away. She can feel his gaze on her, sharp and assessing, waiting for her to respond.

“It’s nothing,” she murmurs, forcing herself to keep her voice steady, even though the words feel like they’re sticking in her throat. “Just…you could’ve mentioned it before.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air between them taut with unspoken things. She knows he’s searching for the right words, something that won’t sound like an admission but also won’t deny the reality she’s trying to ignore.

“You always knew there was someone else,” he says finally, his voice low, almost gentle, as if that can soften the blow.

She swallows hard, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag as the truth of his words settles in. Of course, she knows. There’s always been something in the way he holds himself slightly apart from her, something that hinted at the boundaries she was never meant to cross. And yet, she crossed them anyway, hoping—foolishly—that maybe he would meet her halfway.

“Did I?” she asks quietly, her voice trembling just enough to give her away. She turns to face him then, her eyes searching his, looking for something - anything - that will contradict what he’s just said. But there’s nothing. His expression is calm, measured, as though they’re discussing something inconsequential.

He doesn’t answer, but the silence that follows is more telling than anything he could say. She can see it now, how he’s always been careful with her, careful not to let things go too far, careful not to give her any false hope.

But he never really needed to, did he? Because she already knew, deep down, that whatever they had was just a small part of his life - a convenience, a passing thing that will end the moment someone else comes along. Someone more important, more permanent.

She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, the sound heavy in the quiet of the kitchen. “Right,” she says, nodding to herself as if that will help make sense of everything. “I guess I did know.”

She hesitates, the words tasting bitter on her tongue as she adds, almost too casually, “Daeron texted about coming to Oldtown over the weekend. I probably have plans with him anyway.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, and when she dares to meet his gaze, she catches the subtle shift in his expression - a small, almost amused curl of his lips. It’s as if he can see right through her, peeling back the flimsy layers she’s tried to build around herself. The realization that he sees her so clearly, that he understands her attempts to guard herself, makes her feel smaller, more exposed than she ever intended.

His smile fades, replaced by something darker, more contemplative, and the weight of his gaze makes her want to shrink away, to hide from the way he’s dissecting her. He steps closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing as his presence looms large, overwhelming. She feels like she’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something that could shatter her if she’s not careful. But she doesn’t move, rooted to the spot by the intensity of his gaze, by the way he’s looking at her like he’s trying to decide if she’s worth the effort of breaking down completely.

The resignation in her voice must cut through him because he shifts, leaning back against the counter, his eyes never leaving hers. But he doesn’t move toward her, doesn’t try to reach out. It’s as if he knows that any attempt to comfort her now would only be hollow, empty of meaning.

She can smell the faint scent of the coffee still lingering on him, mixing with his cologne, and it makes her head swim, makes the room feel smaller, more suffocating. Everything feels too close, too real, and she needs to leave before she says something she can’t take back.

“Look, it’s fine,” she says quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should get going anyway. I’ve got things to do.”

He doesn’t stop her. He just watches as she slings the bag over her shoulder, his gaze cool and detached, like he’s studying her, trying to understand why she’s making such a big deal out of something they both knew had an expiration date.

But just as she turns to leave, he reaches out, taking hold of her hand. The contact is brief, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to make her pause. There’s something in his touch—something that feels more like pity than affection. It twists in her chest, making her feel even smaller, more exposed.

“Take care,” he says, his voice polite, almost distant, as if the gesture was merely obligatory.

The words sting, made worse by the way he immediately lets go, his hand slipping away as if it never held hers at all. She walks away.

She pauses for a moment, hand on the doorknob, before glancing back at him. There’s so much she wants to say, but she knows it will all sound pathetic and desperate, and she refuses to let him see her like that.

“Yeah,” she replies softly, her heart aching in a way that feels almost physical. “You too.”

She sits on the edge of her sofa, her fingers idly tracing the patterns on the faded fabric. 

She stares at the shadows, feeling them stretch and distort, like her own thoughts, twisted and knotted.

The apartment is a mess - books splayed open, cold coffee mugs scattered about, and a half-burnt vanilla scented candle that hasn’t seen use in days. The quiet hum of the city outside the window is distant, almost surreal, as if it belongs to another world entirely. Inside, it’s as if time has stopped, leaving her in a stagnant pool of self-pity that she hates like nothing else.

Her mind drifts to Aemond. She can’t shake the image of him talking with his date. The warmth of his voice, the way his eyes subtly light up - it all feels so tangible, yet so out of reach. She imagines him in those moments of connection, and each thought pulls her deeper into the mire of her own emotions. The more she dwells on it, the more isolated she feels.

The room feels colder now, the silence pressing in on her from all sides. She wraps her blanket tighter, but it doesn’t offer much comfort. Her phone buzzes on the coffee table, jolting her out of her reverie. She hesitates, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling inside her. It’s probably not Aemond, she tells herself, but she can’t help the flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, it is.

She reaches for the phone, her hand trembling slightly. The screen lights up with Daeron’s name. She swipes to open it, her heart pounding as she sees the photo he’s sent. It’s Daeron at Oldtown Airport, his face lit up with a smile that seems to brighten the whole frame. A text follows.

Lunch tomorrow?

She smiles.

She waits outside Moonbloom, the café's warm, inviting light spilling onto the pavement. She watches as people bustle by, each face a fleeting moment in the urban blur. Her nerves are a tight knot, and she checks her phone for the umpteenth time, though she already knows Daeron will be on time. She hears his voice before she sees him.

"Hey," Daeron says, a smile tugging at his lips as he approaches. His eyes, as familiar as they are, carry a weight that wasn’t there before. They embrace awkwardly, and it makes her bristle.

Inside, the café is bustling with midday energy. They choose a corner table, its cozy atmosphere offering some solace from the crowd. Daeron settles into his seat, his movements slightly hesitant. She follows suit, their conversation initially faltering as they tiptoe around the more profound emotions that linger between them.

“So, um,” she begins, fidgeting with the menu, “have you been to this place before?”

“Not really,” Daeron replies, his fingers tapping nervously on his coffee cup. “I mean, I’ve passed by, but I’ve never actually been in. It’s...nice.”

“I love the way they’ve decorated it.”

Daeron looks around, taking in the mismatched furniture and the array of quirky knick-knacks. “Definitely. It’s kind of...charming. I guess I didn’t expect it to be this warm.”

She smiles, relieved to have found a neutral topic. “Yeah, it’s cozy. I come here when I need to get away from everything for a bit.”

“Sounds like it’s a good spot for that,” Daeron says, his voice warming slightly. “I could use a little escape myself.”

They both pause, a slight awkwardness settling over them. The menu sits between them, a practical distraction from the underlying tension. Daeron glances at it, his brow furrowing as he tries to decide.

“So, have you tried anything here that’s a must-have?” Daeron asks, attempting to steer the conversation back to safe ground.

She looks at the menu thoughtfully. “The avocado toast is really good, and the latte is pretty great too. It’s one of those places where you can’t go wrong with pretty much anything. Oh and they have a really good cheesecake!”

“Sounds good,” Daeron says, nodding as if making a mental note. “I’ll have to try both then.”

She chuckles softly, trying to ease the nervous energy between them. “You won’t regret it.”

The menu arrives, and they both laugh over the choices—an easy distraction from the real conversation they know is coming. They talk about trivial things first: the new book she’s reading, Daeron’s latest coffee obsession. The conversation is light, almost too light, as if they’re both waiting for the right moment to dive into the deeper waters.

As their meals arrive, Daeron takes a deep breath, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his coffee cup. “I didn’t realize how much I missed this. You.”

She looks up, surprised by the shift in tone. “Yeah, moving away does that to you.” 

Daeron’s gaze meets hers, a mixture of nostalgia and hesitation in his eyes. “It’s like, I’ve been so caught up in trying to manage everything that I forgot to appreciate these simpler things. I’ve been trying to figure out what really matters, and I think...I think that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Her curiosity is piqued, the earlier awkwardness giving way to a more genuine connection. “What do you mean?”

Daeron hesitates, fiddling with the edge of his napkin as he searches for the right words. “Floris and me. You know, things seemed okay, but I was always looking for the next problem, the next thing that might go wrong. I never really stopped to appreciate what we had, or how well things were actually working.”

She listens intently, her eyes softening as she senses the depth of his struggle. “And?”

Daeron sighs, his gaze meeting hers with a sincerity that tugs at her heart. “I’ve realized that I need to take a step back and figure things out. It’s why I came to stay here for the next month. It’s not just about getting away from everything. It’s more about taking the time to understand myself better. I want to be in a better place for her - when I go back, I want to be someone who’s really ready.”

The café hums around them, the sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery providing a gentle backdrop to their conversation. She absorbs his words, feeling a mix of sadness and a surprising sense of relief. “You’re actually going to do this?” she asks quietly.

Daeron nods, a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. “Yeah, I think it’s what I need. Just some time to be with myself, to figure out what really matters. I want to make sure I’m not just rushing through life, looking for the next thing. I want to be present for her, for myself. You know?”

There’s something endearing about Daeron, who he’s grown into, and his willingness to admit he needs to take time for himself. It is eons ahead of the boy she knew. For a brief moment, she sees Aemond in him, and she takes a deep breath before she lets her thoughts carry her away.

“I think that’s really brave,” she says softly. “It’s not easy to take a step back and admit you need to sort things out.”

She wonders if her words are for him, or herself.

Your Starry Sept postcards are at my place.

The afternoon sun hits just right as they walk through the market with their condensing iced coffee cups in hand. The stalls around them are alive with the scent of fresh bread, spices and flowers. It’s been days since she’s seen Aemond, and she ignores his texts and any chance to see him like the plague.

They sip their coffee, exchanging easy smiles as they pass by vendors selling everything from handmade jewelry to antique trinkets. The atmosphere is relaxed, yet a tension lingers beneath the surface. Daeron, seemingly content, glances at her and notices a shift in her demeanor as they approach an antique store.

“What’s up with you?” he asks, his tone light. “You’ve been a bit...off today.”

Now more than ever, she hates how well the Targaryen brothers know her. Her heart skips a beat.

“Uh, it’s nothing,” she says, her voice a bit too high-pitched, betraying herself. “Just...a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Daeron raises an eyebrow, his concern deepening. “Come on… We’ve known each other long enough. You can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

She looks away, her eyes darting over the colorful array of vintage items displayed in the store’s window. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. The prospect of confessing her recent history with Aemond is daunting, especially since she had poured out her feelings to Daeron not so long ago.

If anything, it makes it all feel a lot less valid if she thinks of it that way.

“It’s a bit complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

The question hangs in the air, and Wylde feels a lump form in her throat. She swallows hard, weighing the consequences of her next words. She recalls the emotional turmoil she experienced when she admitted her feelings for Daeron and how vulnerable she felt. The idea of now revealing that she’s been seeing Aemond—his brother, no less—feels like an insurmountable hurdle.

She takes another sip of her coffee, trying to buy time. “It’s just...I don’t know how to explain it. There’s been some...changes, you know?”

Daeron looks at her intently, sensing her hesitation. “Look, if you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s okay.” Her heart aches at his genuine concern. She knows she should be honest, but the fear of how Daeron will react clouds her judgment. She finally meets his gaze, the weight of her secret pressing heavily on her shoulders.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s...complicated.”

Daeron’s expression shifts from concern to confusion. “Someone? Who?” She sees his frown lift into a smile.

“Who… that’s not relevant.” 

Before he can interrupt and charm Aemond’s identity out of her, she continues. “He was already with someone, but I caught feelings for him anyway. Then we hooked up, and I worry that I just…”

“You worry that you’ve made a mistake.”

“Among other things. I…” She sighs. “I just want someone that’s mine, you know? It is a bit of a shame that the boys I like always belong to someone else.”

He chuckles. “I’m going to ask you to think well and be honest. Do you know him well enough?”

“Very well.”

“Do you think he’s the type to cheat?”

“Definitely not.”

“And did you ask him about this? What he wants from you, and what his situation with the other person is like?”

“I guess.”

“And what did he say?”

“He made no promises. He said I always knew there was someone else. I… I messed up. I shouldn’t have encouraged him, to be frank. He always knew what it was. He always knew, and I… did too. Just took a while for it to sink in. And… I was slightly foolish in hoping that he’d be just for me… for a while there it felt like… the last few months, it was all building up to it.”

“And you’re sure a fling is what he wants?”

“He went out for dinner with this other girl yesterday. Safe to assume.”

“I guess the question is…” He sighs. “Having as little of him as he can give you… is that something you’re willing to have? Because if not, you’ll have to push him away entirely. Protect yourself.”

She closes her eyes and brings a hand up to her mouth in resignation. “I feel so stupid.”

Daeron places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it takes two to make something work. Don’t beat yourself up if he isn’t.”

When she walks back to her flat that night, Daeron’s words echo through her mind like a fast growing wildfire.

Is he worth it? 

She knows the answer long before she even ponders on the question. It is simply a question of whether or not she can handle it.

There’s more cheesecake in the fridge.

She avoids Aemond and his texts for the next few days, her thoughts spiraling as she wonders what he really wants from her if he’s seeing someone else. Every time her phone buzzes, she tenses, half-hoping, half-dreading it’s him. 

Of course he won’t say he misses her. He won’t say he wants to see her. That’s just not his style.

She stares at the screen for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before she decides to leave him on read. Her heart pounds, but she doesn't know how to respond. It’s easier to focus on Daeron, easier to avoid the growing confusion that Aemond has brought into her life.

They lie on the blanket, the sound of waves crashing below the cliffs filling the comfortable silence between them. The sky above them shifts in shades of pink and orange as the sun inches closer to the horizon. It’s a scene that could easily be romantic if things had turned out differently between them.

“You know,” Daeron starts, his voice light but thoughtful, “we’re pretty compatible.”

She turns her head to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, we are. It’s kind of a shame things didn’t… I don’t know, grow between us the way they could’ve.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, his tone carrying a hint of wistfulness. “It just never… happened.”

With you, she wants to add. I loved you for so long, you just didn’t love me back.

They both know there’s no regret in those words, just a shared acknowledgment of something that could have been but never was.

“I remember the first time I realized I had feelings for you,” she says, her voice softer now as she gazes out at the sea. “I was probably eight years old. That day on the school grounds, when you and Luke fought because he was bothering me. In my defense, I was eight years old and that was the most romantic thing ever.”

Daeron laughs, a genuine sound that makes her smile. “Eight years old, huh? Wow, I didn’t know I was such a charmer back then.”

“You weren’t. I was just an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, well, you had your moments,” she teases, nudging him with her shoulder. “But really, it was just a silly crush. I got over it eventually. Wasn’t great, but I managed it somehow.” The gravity of underselling her feelings hits her, but she’s not quite upset about it anymore. Daeron is a thing of her past - how much power can feelings from the past hold anyway?

“It all seems silly to me now.”

Daeron nods, understanding. “I get that. I always thought you’d make an awesome girlfriend, though.”

She raises an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?”

“You’re cool and smart, and we always have a good time together. But I just… never felt much more than that. I do love you, just…”

“You’re not in love with me. I don’t blame you.” She sighs. “At least, not anymore.”

“You know what I mean,” Daeron says, chuckling. “We were close, and it always felt like we could’ve been something more, but it never felt… right. I think I just always saw you as my best friend.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it? We’re practically perfect for each other in so many ways, but the spark was never really there. No matter how much I used to want it.”

“Practically perfect,” Daeron agrees, smiling as he echoes her words. “Maybe we’re too practical.”

“Or maybe too perfect.” She grins, looking at him through her sunglasses.

“On paper, definitely.” They both laugh, the sound mingling with the crashing waves. They’re not sad about what could have been; they’re content with what they have.

She realizes she quite likes it this way.

“Hey, you know what?” Daeron says, his tone suddenly playful. “If we’re both still single at forty, we should just get married.”

She snorts, covering her mouth as she laughs. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” he says, grinning. “We’d make a pretty awesome couple, don’t you think?”

She looks at him, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, perfect on paper.”

“Come on, indulge me.”

“Fuck no. What if I’m actually single at forty and have to follow through?”

“It won’t be so bad, I promise.”

“If I’m still single by forty, I’d rather throw myself off this cliff.”

“Be a little brave for once. It’s just a far off possibility.”

“Ugh, fine. You have a deal.” Just as she says it, she extends her hand to him.

“Deal.” He laughs, and the realization is devoid of any pesky feelings as she thinks this is the best laugh she knows.

Hearty, boyish and pure.

Came by the flat, it’s locked. Tell me you’re okay. It’s been more than a week.

I’m fine.

She doesn’t want to see him till she knows exactly what she wants to say. He’s made his stance very clear - that this is very casual to him, and that he doesn’t take what they have as seriously as she thought. She envies him, in all honesty. Why can’t her heart be as straightforward as his?

Daeron had met Aemond and their uncle Gwayne for a game of tennis at the Hightower Townhouse and invited her - but she refused politely and chose to not dwell. A few days later, he takes the private jet to Essos to visit Helaena during her exchange year and she clings to him in a tight hug before letting him go.

Like Daeron, who has chosen to relax this summer, she knows that first-year internships aren't mandatory. If she wanted one, she could easily get it - her name carries significant weight in the world of art and history. Her great-great-great-great-grandmother, Coryanne Wylde, left an indelible mark on the Westerosi art scene with her scandalous and groundbreaking series of erotic paintings titled A Caution for Young Girls. The collection - now cared for at the Citadel in Oldtown - is notorious for its bold sexual depictions, and is considered a turning point in the history of Westerosi art. That, coupled with her family’s considerable wealth - she has the luxury to forgo work during the first year holidays and focus solely on herself.

This summer, she’s embracing that privilege fully. Her days are spent immersed in books, wandering through museums, and exploring the city. She takes day trips to quaint coastal towns, armed with her sketchbook and ready to draw.

Summer will come to a close in less than a fortnight, and she’s grateful for the rest. As much as she loves studying art history, it does take a lot of energy out of her to channel that interest into wading through a structured syllabus that doesn’t run on her own time or pace.

Mornings begin with walks through the city, sketchbook always in hand, capturing the delicate lines of the older architecture or the vibrant chaos of modern installations. She takes her camera too, and each photograph she takes feels like a small rebellion against the uncertainty that has plagued her thoughts.

Afternoons are reserved for exploring the smaller towns along the coastline. She finds solace in the simplicity of these places—the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and wildflowers, the way cobblestone streets wind past charming cafes and artisan shops. She sits by the harbor, sketching boats bobbing gently on the waves, or wanders through quaint markets, photographing the scenes. She lets the local old women near the port weave flowers and shells into her hair, and wears loose fitting bright gowns that she finds in smaller stalls.

As the weeks pass, Aemond’s messages become sparse. When the texts stop altogether, she feels a pang of guilt she can’t quite shake. She knows it’s probably for the best, that she needs the space to sort out what she wants from him, but the silence echoes in her mind, leaving her to wonder what she might have done differently.

In every possibility, she realizes she wants him. But she never dwells in her thoughts long enough to understand what that means for them.

One evening, a few days before the next semester is set to begin, she finds herself at the Quill and Tankard, a charming little pub nestled in a cozy corner of the city. The warm, dimly lit space is filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses. She orders a drink, the amber liquid swirling in her glass, and settles into a secluded booth. The conversations around her blur into a comforting background noise as she sips her drink, the alcohol loosening the tight knot of anxiety in her chest.

As the night wears on, her thoughts drift back to Aemond. She has tried so hard to avoid him, to drown out the questions and doubts he has stirred within her. But here in the pub, the memories feel sharper, more insistent. She glances around the room, watching other couples laugh and share stories, and wonders why her own connections feel so fraught with uncertainty.

Her phone buzzes on the table, a reminder of the texts that have long ceased. She glances at it, feeling a pang of longing and frustration. The lack of communication from Aemond leaves her with unanswered questions and unresolved feelings. She takes another sip of her drink, the warmth spreading through her, and feels a surge of impulse.

With a deep breath, she reaches for her phone. Her fingers hover over the screen for a moment, trembling slightly. She knows she shouldn’t be doing this, that reaching out might only reopen wounds she isn’t ready to face. But the need for some semblance of understanding is too strong to ignore.

Finally, she presses the call button and holds the phone to her ear. The familiar ringtone feels both comforting and jarring in the quiet of the pub. She takes another sip, steeling herself for whatever comes next.

"Hey, can I come over?”

Despite living a stone’s throw away from each other, she hasn’t seen him in a month - and the moment she lays eyes on him again, she’s struck by how effortlessly captivating he is. Aemond sits at his desk, a stack of papers spread out before him, his focus completely absorbed by whatever it is he’s reading. The dim white light from his half-open laptop casts a soft glow on his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity in his expression. He’s in his element, completely at ease in the quiet of his own space.

She realizes, not for the first time, that it’s easy to stare at Aemond. Easy, because he’s always so absorbed in whatever task demands his attention. His head is often down, his gaze fixed on the papers, books, or screens in front of him, making it simple for her to observe him without the risk of getting caught. But more than that, it’s easy to stare at Aemond because there’s something about him that draws her in. He doesn’t have the easy, effortless charm of Daeron or the overwhelming presence of Aegon, but his appeal lies in the subtleties.

There’s a sharper, quieter beauty in Aemond that reveals itself in the smallest of ways. The way his brow furrows slightly when he’s deep in thought, the almost imperceptible lift of his lips when something amuses him. His beauty isn’t meant to be obvious or attention grabbing; it’s there for those who take the time to notice, for those who can appreciate the details that make him who he is. It’s the kind of beauty that makes her wonder about the thoughts that flicker behind his stormy eye, those that he keeps so carefully guarded.

In many ways, Helaena is much the same. There’s a quiet elegance to her, a softness that’s easy to overlook but impossible to forget once you’ve seen it. The two of them, siblings with such contrasting temperaments, share this unspoken, understated allure. They leave a lasting impression, like a delicate piece of art that grows more intricate the longer you look at it.

She stands there for a moment longer, taking him in - the way his long fingers trace the edge of the paper, the way a few stray strands of hair fall across his forehead. The familiarity of this scene almost comforts her as she leans into the doorway, unsure if she’s ready for this confrontation, but knowing it’s inevitable.

“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” she murmurs, the words slipping out like a secret, barely more than a breath. They drift into the space between them, fragile and hesitant.

“I told you to,” he replies, his voice steady, almost indifferent. His eyes remain fixed on the papers before him, the rustling of the sheets filling the silence between them.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “What are you working on?”

“Going through some numbers, drafting reports for Otto,” he answers, still without looking up.

“Did you work with your grandfather? For the summer?” she asks, grasping at the small talk like a lifeline.

“Yes, father wanted me to train with him.”

“Hm.”

The conversation stalls, and she moves away from the doorway, retreating to the kitchen as if the physical distance might help her regain her composure. She rifles through his fridge, finding a slice of cheesecake and brewing a pot of coffee. The mundane actions feel almost grounding, but the tension remains, coiled tight in her chest.

As she watches the coffee drip, her mind races. She’s tense at his curtness, but a part of her knows she deserves it after avoiding him for so long. Still, she can’t help the anger simmering beneath the surface. She left to protect herself, but he’s acting as if her absence was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

She walks back into the room, determined now. She nudges herself between him and his work desk, leaning back with her palms pressing against the surface. He finally looks up, his gaze sweeping over her from top to bottom, assessing. His hand rests over his lips, elbows braced on the armrests of his chair. The quiet intensity of his stare sends a shiver down her spine, but she doesn’t back down.

“What are we doing?” she asks, her voice low but firm.

“You disappeared for weeks on end, and now you’re back,” he responds, his tone maddeningly calm, as if nothing has happened.

Her nostrils flare in irritation. “What were we doing before I left?” She’s not letting him off that easily.

“Hm.” He takes a deep, audible breath, the kind that makes her want to scream. “We slept together, and you walked away to sort yourself out.”

“Are you serious right now?” she scoffs, her voice rising in disbelief. “I left because we slept together, and then you told me you were still seeing someone else! Something I asked you about, and you never bothered addressing!”

The frustration bubbling inside her threatens to spill over. She feels like a petulant child, but she knows she’s not entirely in the wrong. Yet his infuriatingly level-headed tone only makes her feel more on edge.

Without warning, he stands up, looming over her like a dark shadow. His presence is overwhelming, and when he steps closer, she can feel the heat radiating from him. His hands slam down on the table on either side of her, caging her in. Their breaths mingle in the small space between them, and she refuses to break eye contact, challenging him with every ounce of defiance she has left.

“Did you, for once, consider that I may not have wanted to wreck whatever it is you have with this other girl you’ve been seeing? For more than a year too, if I might add?” Her voice is laced with bitterness, but there’s an edge of vulnerability there too, one she can’t quite hide.

“Hm.”

His nonchalant response is the final straw. “Do you have nothing to say to me?” she nearly pleads, her tone wavering. It’s borderline pathetic, and the entire situation feels far messier than she can handle. “You blindsided me.”

He watches her for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he finally speaks. “Do you regret it?”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her, that answer is easy. “I probably should, but no.”

Her words hang between them, and for a moment, neither of them moves. Then, almost imperceptibly, his hand brushes against hers where it rests on the table. It’s a tentative touch, the barest graze of his fingers, but it’s enough to send a jolt of electricity through her. She inhales sharply, her breath catching in her throat.

He leans in closer, the distance between them shrinking to nothing. She can feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the tension thickens, wrapping around them like a vise. His gaze drops to her lips, and she feels her resolve weakening, her anger melting away into something far more dangerous.

“Aemond…” she whispers, her voice trembling.

He tilts his head slightly, his lips almost brushing against hers. “Wylde,” he murmurs, the sound of her name on his lips making her heart stutter. His eyes darken, and she knows there’s no going back now.

She can feel the tension, heavy and palpable. And then, without another word, he closes the final gap between them, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. 

It’s messy, complicated, and far from perfect, but at this moment, he is all that matters.

His lips find the tender skin of her neck, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone. The wet warmth of his mouth sends shivers down her spine, his breath hot against her skin. His hands are everywhere - exploring, claiming, running up and down her sides under her shirt, fingers pressing into her flesh as if trying to memorize the feel of her.

“Been too fucking long,” he murmurs, the words flowing like water.

She pulls his head up, capturing his lips with hers in a fierce kiss, a desperate melding of mouths that leaves them both breathless. They move together with a practiced urgency, her shirt sliding over her head, his following a second later. Her bra is discarded just as quickly, tossed aside without a second thought, as their bodies come together, skin to skin, the heat between them searing.

But when she reaches out, shifting his papers aside to sit on the edge of the desk, he laughs quietly, a low rumble that sends a thrill through her. He shakes his head, amusement flickering in his eyes, and lifts her effortlessly, his hands strong and steady beneath her. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding on tight as he carries her toward the bed.

“Those papers took me a while to organize,” he murmurs sharply, his tone laced with mock seriousness. If she didn’t know him better, she might think he was truly annoyed.

But she does know him, knows the way his eyes glint with barely concealed mirth as he lowers her onto the bed. The cool sheets contrast with the heat of their bodies, and she arches up into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulls him down for another kiss. 

Aemond’s hands trail down her body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants as he pulls away slightly, eyes dark and intent. She watches him, breathless, as he slides her pants and underwear down in one smooth motion, the cool air hitting her skin making her shiver.

He kisses his way down her body, lingering at her hips before settling between her thighs. The anticipation coils tight in her belly, her breath hitching as he looks up at her, his expression unreadable but undeniably hungry. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she feels the tension in her body build with each brush of his lips against her skin.

When he finally touches her where she needs him most, she gasps, her hips arching off the bed in response. He holds her down gently, his strong hands firm on her thighs as his mouth moves with skillful precision. The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending alive and thrumming with pleasure as he takes his time, drawing out every gasp and moan that slips from her lips.

She threads her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as she loses herself in the feeling, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. His name slips past her lips, a breathless plea that only seems to spur him on, his tongue and lips working in tandem to push her closer and closer to the edge.

It’s a slow build, a steady climb toward something that feels almost too intense to bear. 

When she finally falls over the edge, it’s like the world shatters around her, a white-hot burst of pleasure that leaves her breathless and shaking, her hands gripping his hair tightly as she rides out the waves of her release. He stays with her through it all, his mouth still moving against her until the sensation becomes too much and she gently pulls him up to her, needing to feel his lips on hers, to ground herself in the warmth of his kiss.

Her breath is still uneven as she pulls him closer, her hand sliding down his chest, tracing the hard lines of his torso. She meets his gaze, eyes dark with desire, and murmurs, “I need you.”

Without breaking eye contact, her hand slips into his slacks, finding him already hard and straining against the fabric. He hisses at the contact, his jaw tightening as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking slowly, deliberately.

But it doesn’t last long. With a low growl, he pulls her hand away and stands up, quickly shedding his slacks and boxers, the clothing falling to the floor in a heap. The sight of him, fully bared to her, sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through her.

He’s back on her in an instant, his mouth on hers, urgent and demanding, as he positions himself between her legs. She wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, and when he enters her in one smooth thrust, eliciting a gasp from them both.

He stills for a moment, buried deep inside her, his breath hot against her neck. Then, with a groan, he starts to move, slow at first, each thrust measured and deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way her body reacts to him. It doesn’t take long for the pace to quicken, the room filling with the sounds of their bodies moving together, the bed creaking beneath them.

She clings to him, her nails digging into his back as he drives into her, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. His grip on her hips is firm, his movements powerful and unrelenting, as if he’s intent on losing himself in her.

“Ae-mond…”

Their breaths mingle, their bodies slick with sweat as they move together, the world outside fading away until all that exists is this. A conversation is due and far from over, but her mind is clouded by thoughts of him, him, him-

She breaks the kiss, her head falling back as her body tightens around him, pulling him deeper as the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear. He buries his face in her neck, his breath ragged against her skin, and with one final, languid thrust, he comes in pleasure as he moans into her skin.

For a moment, they remain tangled together, their breaths harsh and uneven, the aftermath of their release leaving them both dazed and spent. He stays inside her as long as he can, as if reluctant to break the connection, before finally pulling away and collapsing beside her, pulling her into his arms.

Her head rests on his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm beneath her ear. His arm is draped over her back, holding her close as if to keep the world at bay for just a little longer.

But as the silence stretches on, the reality of their situation begins to creep back in, and she feels the familiar weight of her thoughts clouding her mind. What are they really doing here? What does any of this mean? The questions swirl in her head, tugging her back to the uncertainty she’s been trying to avoid.

He notices the change in her immediately. The way her body tenses slightly, the furrow that forms between her brows. He’s seen this look before - when she’s lost in thought, when something’s weighing heavily on her. His grip tightens around her, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, trying to anchor her in the present.

She tilts her head up, meeting his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, a tenderness that makes her chest tighten. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the air thick. His hand comes up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on her cheek.

Her heart skips a beat as she tries to find the words to express the tangle of emotions inside her. But before she can speak, he abruptly breaks the silence.

“It’s never going to be exclusive or long-term with her. That’s not what we have.” he says, his voice steady but laced with something she can’t quite place. “You’re not destroying anything.”

The words hang in the air between them, heavy and final. He’s said them almost as if to preempt whatever she was going to say, as if to take away the guilt and confusion that’s been gnawing at her since this all began. His eyes search hers, gauging her reaction.

She blinks, trying to process what he’s just said. The admission should bring some relief, should ease the turmoil inside her, but instead, it leaves her feeling more conflicted. The clarity she sought doesn’t come; instead, she’s left with a hollowness that only deepens the questions she’s been grappling with.

“You think saying that makes this easier?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying it because I don’t want you to feel guilty,” he replies, his tone firm but not unkind. “This—whatever this is—doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be just us, without any strings attached.”

She bites her lip, the words sinking in. He’s offering her an out, a way to keep whatever they have without the burden of labels or expectations. But is that really what she wants?

Especially now that her heart skips a beat whenever he comes around? 

“You were in love with him for a long time. This is what you need. Something that won’t trouble you.” His hand trails down her arm, grounding her in the moment. “You don’t have to overthink it,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “We want each other.”

She likes him. More than she should, if a fling with her is all he wants. But she can't bring herself to push him away.

“We can just be.”

She looks up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. He’s being honest with her, laying it all out so she can make her own choice.

“You're saying you've been seeing a girl for more than a year, but she's alright with you sleeping with me?”

“Think that's how an open relationship works. Don't you?”

She wants to ask who it is, but she has a feeling that's more trouble than it's worth.

“And what if I don't want this?”

“You can stop anytime. But you won't.”

His functional eye narrows and there's knots of muscle in both corners of his jaw, a slight twitch of the eyebrow. She likes him when he's like this.

She likes when he knows her. She likes that he's indispensable to her. She likes that he knows that too.

She kisses him and goes to sleep in his arms.

Does any of it matter if she gets to have him like this?

The room is quiet except for the faint rustle of pages as Aemond flips through her sketchbook, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. She traces absent-minded patterns on his chest, the tip of her finger skimming over the faint lines of his muscles, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

The dim light filters in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over them, highlighting the contentment on her face. Her head rests against him, hair fanned out over the pillow as she relaxes into the moment, her mind drifting aimlessly. 

Aemond’s fingers lazily flip through the pages filled with rough pencil strokes, some finished, others abandoned halfway. His gaze pauses on one drawing in particular - a silhouette of a woman standing at the edge of the sea, her figure gazing out toward the endless horizon.

He runs his thumb over the page, his voice low. “What’s this one?”

She turns her head, glancing at the sketch. Her lips curve into a small smile, though her mind drifts back to the scene that had inspired it. “I was hanging out at the Sunset Sea for a few days. I’d been studying Jaeron of Lys in my class with Professor Rivers, you know, the old painter?” He shifts slightly, and she shifts along with him. “His work was all about those distant, far-off humans in his portraits, always framed by these huge, sweeping landscapes.” 

Aemond listens intently, his fingers still resting on the paper as she speaks. He turns his head slightly toward her, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s why his work is so widely discussed. The people in his paintings are always so still. Silent. You barely notice them at first, almost like they’re not even the focus. But the longer you look, the more you wonder what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling. He made the audience do the work to comprehend them.”

Aemond’s brow furrows slightly, intrigued by the thought. “I’ve seen some of his work in the books. There’s this tension in it, like the figures are waiting for something, even though the rest of the world moves on around them.”

She nods. “Exactly. That tension is what makes it brilliant. What’s even more tragic, though, is what happened to him.” Her voice softens, the weight of the story pulling her deeper into it.

“Jaeron went blind in his later years. He couldn’t paint, couldn’t create for years. The grief of not being able to see art, beauty… it destroyed him. He never touched a brush again, not until he was on his deathbed. And even then, he wished for one last chance to paint.”

Aemond turns fully to face her now, propping his head on his hand, captivated by the story. “And did he?”

She nods, her gaze distant as she recalls the details from her class. “He did. Blind and frail, he recreated his first-ever painting—a woman looking into the sea. It was perfect, down to the smallest detail. His final masterpiece.”

“The class was about muscle memory in art,” she continues softly. “How creativity, no matter how burnt out you feel, is what makes you… you. Even after all that time, even when he couldn’t see, his body remembered. His hands knew the strokes, the curves, like he’d never left it.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s noncommittal sound hums through the air as she turns her head, her eyes searching his face. “It is,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I think about that sometimes - how you can leave something behind, but when you pick it back up… it’s like it never left you either. You just know.”

His thumb traces slow, soothing circles over her hand, his attention fully on her as she sighs, lost in thought.

“A lot of it translates into real life,” she continues, her voice softer now. “Like cycling, or swimming… even driving. Things that require focus and rhythm.”

She pauses, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s like learning to be in sync with something, or someone.”

Aemond’s eyebrow quirks up slightly at her words, a hint of curiosity flickering in his gaze as she drops her eyes, feeling the warmth of his chest beneath her cheek. She presses on, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Like how we didn’t see each other for the entire summer,” she says, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, “but when we came back together… the chemistry, whatever it is. It was there. You didn’t forget what I liked, and I didn’t forget either.”

Her words hang in the air, the silence stretching. She feels a pang of doubt, wondering if her attempt at lightness had been too blunt, too revealing, too… stupid. She glances up at him, ready to brush it off, but Aemond is staring straight ahead, his fingers threading gently through her hair, the weight of his thoughts visible. She can see the wheels turn in his head.

“I wouldn’t want to forget anything about you,” he says. His voice settles deep within her chest.

Her breath catches, and for a moment, she’s at a loss for words, the intensity of his statement catching her off guard. A flush creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks, and she feels the fluttering in her chest threaten to overwhelm her.

Desperate to lighten the mood, to distract herself from the way his words made her feel, she lets out a shaky laugh, trying to mask her flustered mind. “You’re being fucking pretentious now,” she jokes, but her voice betrays her, a bit too breathless, a bit too forced.

Why say things like that if you don't mean them?

Aemond doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze steady on hers. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, just keeps looking at her with a quiet intensity that makes her heart race. The flutter in her chest doesn’t fade, and the realization hits her, taking her down with the force of a well-aimed punch to the gut.

He’s seen right through her.

When she wakes, she glances at the clock—her classes start in an hour or so, but Aemond's are earlier, and he’s already gone. The quiet of the apartment feels warm, almost comforting.

She heads to the bathroom and steps into the shower. As the steam fogs up the glass, she notices faint traces of where his fingers must have absently brushed across the condensation, drawing random patterns. 

Proof that this isn’t a dream, he was hers last night.

After her shower, she rummages through his cupboard to find something to wear, but instead finds a shirt she left behind long ago, forgotten until now. She pulls it on, feeling the fabric cling to her still-damp skin, and shimmies into the same pants from yesterday. The hunger hits her suddenly, and she practically inhales the toast, eggs and coffee, savoring every bite.

As she prepares to leave, she looks for the keys to lock the apartment. By the keystand, a small note catches her eye. She picks it up, her heart giving a small flutter as she reads the familiar handwriting.

Remember your postcards.

She finds the small stack right next to the note and smiles. She picks it up and almost walks out, before she walks back in and takes the note along with her too.

They sit across from each other at one of the long, narrow tables, the polished wood catching the golden hour light filtering through the tall windows.

Months have passed, and classes have begun again. Their time together has been good, even great, filled with moments that make her heart flutter more often than she’d care to admit. But with each passing day, a nagging feeling settles deeper in her chest - a constant reminder that they’re not dating, that her feelings for him shouldn’t matter. It’s something she has to tell herself over and over, especially when he does something that makes her smile in his own subtle way.

She’s focused on her laptop, typing away at her latest assignment, but her concentration wavers every now and then. She can’t help but sneak glances at Aemond, who’s engrossed in one of his textbooks, his brow furrowed in that familiar way that tugs at something deep within her.

Every so often, his foot nudges hers lightly under the table, a small gesture that sends a tingling sensation up her spine. It’s almost as if he does it without thinking, but the effect on her is anything but casual. She tries to keep her mind on her work, but the reminders keep coming - small touches that feel too intimate, like the brush of his hand against hers when they both reach for their coffee, or the way he sometimes squeezes her knee under the table, just for a moment, before going back to his reading as if nothing happened.

The thoughts swirl in her mind, making it harder and harder to focus. She needs a break, something to pull her away from these confusing feelings. So, she stands up, mumbling about needing a book for her research. Aemond doesn’t look up, but she can feel his presence, his quiet attention, as she walks away from the table.

She wanders through the rows of books, her fingers brushing along the spines as she tries to steady her thoughts. The library’s quiet, the only sounds the soft rustle of pages and the distant hum of conversation. She’s been walking for a few minutes when she suddenly stops, feeling a familiar presence behind her.

His shadow falls over her, unmistakable in its solidity, in the way it looms, tall and certain. Even without turning, she knows it’s Aemond. There’s something about the way he stands, the way his silhouette feels different from anyone else’s—broader, more composed, with an intensity that seems to fill the space around him.

She senses him draw closer, the warmth of his body pressing gently against her back. Her breath catches in her throat when she feels his hand brush her hair aside, the strands falling softly over her shoulder. Aemond’s fingers graze the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He leans in, his lips just barely touching her skin, teasing her with featherlight kisses that make her knees go weak.

“Hi,” she faintly murmurs. He grumbles just slightly, his voice low and rough in her ear, laced with a quiet amusement that makes her heart skip a beat. His breath is hot against her skin, and she can feel the faint rumble of his laugh as his lips travel along the curve of her neck.

Her breath catches as one of his hands slides under her skirt, fingers brushing over the curve of her ass, squeezing lightly before venturing lower, teasing the sensitive skin at the top of her thigh. The other hand moves up, slipping beneath her shirt. His touch is firm, confident, as his fingers trace over the fabric of her bra, finding the sensitive peaks of her nipples. He brushes over them, his touch sending a shudder through her that she can’t hide.

“Aemond…” she whispers, her voice a mix of plea and warning, but it only makes him smile against her skin.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says softly, his voice full of a challenge she’s not sure she can meet. His fingers pinch lightly, just enough to make her gasp, the sound swallowed by his quiet groan of approval.

But she doesn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she leans back into him, her body betraying her mind as it seeks more of his touch. His hand on her ass tightens, pulling her against him, and she feels the heat of him, the way he presses against her as if he can’t get close enough.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs, his lips trailing back up to her ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. “You know that, right?”

She nods, her breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts as his hand beneath her shirt continues its slow, deliberate torment.

“Say the word,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that makes her insides twist with want. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

But the words won’t come. Instead, she turns her head slightly, catching his gaze out of the corner of her eye, the intensity there stealing whatever resolve she thought she had. His eyes are dark, filled with something deep and consuming, and it’s in that moment she knows she’s lost.

“Aemond…” she breathes again, but this time, it’s not a warning. It’s an invitation, and he knows it. His hand leaves her ass, sliding around to her front, pulling her even closer, and she feels the low, satisfied hum in his chest as he kisses the side of her neck, harder this time, more insistent.

The hand slides further down, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers move with agonizing slowness, tracing the curve of her before dipping into the heat between her thighs. She bites down on her lip, trying to stifle the gasp that escapes her as his fingers brush over her entrance.

“So wet for me,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice thick with desire. His fingers start to move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and tormenting her with a touch that’s just enough to make her want more but not enough to satisfy the growing ache inside her.

She grips the edge of the bookshelf in front of her, knuckles turning white as she tries to stay quiet, but every slow, precise movement of his fingers makes it harder. Her breath hitches in her throat as he presses harder, moving against her in a way that makes her whole body tense with need.

“Please, Aemond,” she whispers, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she’s feeling. She wants more, needs more, and she knows he can give it to her.

A low, dark chuckle rumbles in his chest as he withdraws his hand, making her whimper at the loss. But before she can protest, he’s turning her around, his movements quick and deliberate, as if he’s been waiting for this just as much as she has.

He pushes her back against the shelves, his body pressing into hers, trapping her between the cool wood and his heat. His mouth is on hers before she can say anything else, kissing her hard and deep, swallowing the moan that escapes her as he reaches between them to tug her panties down. His fingers work deftly, the fabric falling to the floor around her ankles as he frees himself from his pants.

He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, his gaze dark and filled with something primal. “It’s a shame,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “I quite like it when you scream.”

Her breath catches at his words, the anticipation tightening in her stomach as he leans in, his lips brushing against her ear. “But you’re going to have to be quiet, or they’ll hear you.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before he’s lifting her leg, wrapping it around his waist as he guides himself to her entrance. She gasps as he pushes into her slowly, stretching her inch by inch in a way that feels both torturous and utterly perfect.

She bites down on her lip to keep from crying out, the intensity of the sensation almost too much to bear as he fills her completely. His hand slides under her shirt again, pushing the fabric up and palming her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple in a way that makes her arch against him, her body desperate for more of his touch.

He begins to move, thrusting into her with a slow, steady rhythm that has her head spinning. Each movement is deliberate, controlled, as if he’s savoring every moment, every sound she makes. She can’t help the small moans that escape her, each one muffled against his shoulder as she clings to him, her body trembling with the force of her need.

But even her attempts to stay quiet aren’t enough to satisfy him. He kisses her again, harder this time, swallowing her cries as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that makes the bookshelf behind her rattle. The sounds of the library fade away, leaving only the echo of their ragged breaths and the wet, slick sounds of their bodies moving together.

“So fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips brushing against her ear as he pounds into her, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

She can feel the tension building inside her, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Her fingers dig into his back, holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

“I need you,” she gasps, her voice a desperate whisper against his neck. “Please, Aemond… don’t stop.” The thrill of being caught only seems to make her want more.

His response is a low, guttural sound that sends shivers down her spine. He shifts slightly, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside her, and suddenly she’s teetering on the edge, every nerve in her body alight with sensation.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his voice a dark command that she can’t resist.

And she does. Her body shatters around him, her release crashing over her in waves that leave her trembling and breathless. He kisses her again, swallowing her cries as he thrusts into her harder, faster, riding out her orgasm until she’s nothing but a quivering mess in his arms.

Aemond isn’t far behind. With a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself deep inside her, his body going rigid as he finds his own release, groaning her name against her lips as he spills into her.

They stay like that for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together as they come down from the high. He kisses her softly, his lips lingering on hers as if he’s reluctant to pull away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of them, lost in the aftermath of what they’ve just shared.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that she can’t quite place, something intense and raw that makes her heart skip a beat. He smooths her hair back, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before helping her adjust her clothes, his touch now tender, almost reverent.

When she’s done with adjusting herself, she brings her hands over her mouth and lets out a long, shuddering breath - disbelief, over what they’d just done. He seems quite unfazed, almost as if he constantly engages in semi-public sex and she can’t help but wonder.

Has he done this with her too?

When he pulls her into his chest with an arm over her shoulder, she smiles. She smiles and smiles and smiles until her lips go taut and her dimples are seemingly permanent.

Aemond pushes open the door to her room, stepping inside with a quiet creak of the hinges. He pauses, his gaze taking in the chaos that greets him: clothes scattered across the floor, stacks of books and sketch pads teetering on the edge of her desk, and an assortment of half-packed bags and boxes cluttering every available surface. 

Raising an eyebrow, he surveys the scene with amusement. “You’ve been busy,” he says, his tone both teasing and intrigued.

She glances up from where she is hunched over a suitcase, her hands busy stuffing garments into it with an absentminded efficiency. “I am,” she says with a sigh, straightening up and brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I’m packing to go back home next week. One of my older half-brothers is launching his business, and my dad called me today. He’s got plane tickets for me, so I thought I’d just stay at King’s Landing until the Targaryen Charity Benefit.”

Her eyes flicker over to him, a hint of apology in them as if she were embarrassed by the state of her room. “I’m taking my classes online while I’m there.”

Aemond hums, his gaze drifting to the cluttered bed as he sits at the edge. He runs a hand through his hair, still processing her news. “You’ll be gone for three weeks.”

She leaves the mess behind and stands in front of him, between his legs. Almost as though it’s second nature, she straddles him, her legs wrapping around his waist. His hands settle on her hips, holding her in place, and she smiles. “Yes, whatever will you do without me?”

Aemond��s grip tightens around her hips as she straddles him. He lifts a hand to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender. Without a word, she leans down, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s gentle at first. His hands roam up her back, steadying her against him, while her fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the sharp angles beneath her touch. She melts into him, savoring the warmth of his chest and the familiar feel of his arms around her.

Her mind betrays her, hitting her with the sudden realization of how much she cares for him - how her feelings have resurfaced in full force despite everything. She told herself before that this was casual, but now, pressed against him, it's impossible to ignore the tenderness of the moment, how much it means to her.

Just as she's about to lose herself entirely, Aemond pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks softly. “Come with me… to the Targaryen Charity Benefit.”

She blinks, his words cutting through the haze of her thoughts. “What?”

He meets her eyes, his thumb stroking her side. “Come with me.”

“As your date?” She raises her eyebrows, knowing very well that going with him to public events is probably not a safe bet to make.

“As whatever you’d like.”

Her heart skips a beat, the invitation sending a flutter through her chest. For a moment, she hesitates, her mind whirling. She can see herself there, on his arm, but doubt quickly gnaws at her. What about the other woman? The one she knows he’s seeing? Wouldn't that complicate things further?

But she pushes the thoughts aside, smiling softly at him as she whispers, “Okay.”

Before she can overthink it, she leans down and kisses him again, her lips urgent against his, as though trying to drown out the uncertainty lingering in her mind. But as the kiss deepens, the doubt creeps back in. Can she really be the girl on his arm without stirring up more trouble? Will his other entanglements only complicate things further? What are they even doing?

She can’t shake the feeling that it’s not as simple as he makes it sound.

Pulling back from the kiss, her breath still mingling with his, her fingers still on his chest. The question that’s been nagging at the back of her mind breaks through, and she can’t keep it at bay any longer. “What about her?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “The girl you’re seeing… is that not going to be a problem?”

Aemond’s expression shifts ever so slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze. He sighs, his hands resting lightly on her hips as he looks down, avoiding her eyes for a moment. “It’s not what we do,” he says, his voice soft but edged with a weight that makes her heart sink. “We don’t… go out.”

There’s a heaviness to his words, something almost resigned in the way he says them. It breaks her heart just slightly, the realization that this other girl—whoever she is— isn’t someone he even takes out in public. But why? Why would he hide someone if she wasn’t important to him in some way? Why come to her if she was important?

Her brows knitted together as she looked at him, searching his face for answers. “Why?” she asked softly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself. “Why hide her if she’s not…?”

He met her gaze then, his expression hard to read. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, as if weighing his response. “It’s complicated,” he finally said, his voice low, almost distant. “It’s not what we do. We can’t… it’s not what we do.”

The way he said it, the way the words hung between them, sent a pang through her chest. She had no idea what he was dealing with, but it was clear that whatever this was with the other woman wasn’t as simple as she’d imagined. Still, it left her wondering if she’d ever really have him, all of him, or if he was always going to be torn between worlds she couldn’t fully understand.

She looked away, trying to process it all. The warmth of his body against hers, the comfort of his arms around her—none of it could quiet the confusion that swirled in her mind. Aemond’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on her hips as he noticed the way her expression shifted, the light in her eyes dimming.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. He lifted a hand to cup her face, gently turning her head so she’d look at him. His thumb brushed lightly over her cheek. “It’s not what you think.”

She held his gaze for a moment, her expression guarded, but the doubt lingered in her eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Aemond exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment press down on him. “It’s not like that with her,” he said, his voice low, steady. “She won’t mind.”

She won’t mind. She won’t mind. She won’t mind. She won’t-

Her time with him was all because this other girl did not mind. And if she did? What then?

The words echoed in her mind, reverberating off every wall of her thoughts until they drowned out the sound of Aemond’s voice, the warmth of his touch. She won’t mind. It burned into her, the reality she had been pushing aside - her time with him, their moments together, the intimacy they shared, all hinged on the indifference of another woman. Her existence in his life was allowed because someone else didn’t care enough to stop it.

But what if she did? What if this other woman, whoever she was, suddenly decided she did care? What if, one day, Aemond had to choose? She already knew the answer, and it made her stomach twist painfully.

Her mind raced, flicking through every moment they’d shared - every touch, every kiss, every lingering glance - and she saw it clearly now. This arrangement, whatever it was, wasn’t the casual thing she had imagined. It was precarious, temporary, held together by his convenience and Aemond’s careful balancing act between her and someone else. And if that balance tipped? If the other girl did mind?

The thought is ugly, but she can’t help it.

She’ll be the one left behind, a brief chapter in his life, an afterthought in the wake of his real relationship. The thought makes her sick. She doesn’t want to be with someone who can’t put her first, who keeps her around because it’s easy and doesn’t disrupt his life. She doesn’t want to be the girl waiting in the wings, always wondering when it’ll end, when she’ll be discarded because something else took precedence.

Aemond’s touch no longer feels like a comfort. His words, however sweet, now seem hollow. She wants him, yes—wants him desperately, but not like this. She doesn’t need him. Not so much that she would destroy herself, let herself be diminished, just to be with him.

She doesn’t want to help him keep up his image while he spends the entire night waiting to go back to her.

The realization hits her like a wave, flooding her with a clarity she hasn’t grasped before. She’s been clinging to him, holding on to the fragments of what they have because she thought she couldn’t let go. But now, she sees it for what it is. She deserves more than being someone’s second choice, someone’s convenience.

She exhales softly and looks at him, really looks at him. His sharp features, silver hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression holding mild confusion as he notices her shift. He’s beautiful, enigmatic, the kind of person who draws you in without even trying. And she loves him. That much is clear. But she loves herself, too. And this—this isn’t good for her.

For a long moment, she stays silent, her heart thudding in her chest as she gathers the courage to say what she knows has to be said. Her eyes search his face, memorizing him, this moment. Because after this, everything will change. There will be no going back.

All of this is happening on borrowed time - she deserves more.

Before she can fully process her resolve, Aemond moves. In one swift motion, he lifts her effortlessly, a startled gasp escaping her lips as he throws her back onto the bed. Her body bounces lightly against the sheets, her heart pounding as she looks up at him. He looms above her, a quiet intensity in his eyes, and for a second, everything else fades away - there’s only him.

His thumb grazes her bottom lip, slow and deliberate, as if he’s committing the feel of her to memory. She can’t tear her gaze away, her breath hitching when he leans down, pressing his forehead against hers. The warmth of his skin, the closeness of his breath - it’s intoxicating, and despite everything, despite her earlier resolve, she feels herself crumbling.

“Come with me.” His voice is low, a quiet plea she can't resist. Their foreheads press together, breath mingling, and for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath.

Her heart wavers, but the word slips out before she can stop it. “Okay.”

And then he's on her, kissing her with an intensity that steals her breath. His hands roam her body, rough yet tender, like he can't get enough of her. She melts beneath him, her hands tangling in his silver hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

Their bodies move together, a rhythm they know too well. He pushes into her slowly at first, drawing out her pleasure until she's arching into him, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His hands grip her hips, holding her steady as his thrusts become more urgent, more insistent.

She moans, her nails digging into his back under his shirt as she rides the waves of her release, trembling beneath him. But he isn’t done.

Before she can catch her breath, Aemond flips her over, positioning her on all fours. The cool air hits her back, sharp against the heat of his touch, and she shivers. His lips trace her spine with sweet kisses before he grips her hips again, pulling her back towards him.

Without warning, he thrusts into her hard and deep, and she cries out, her fingers clenching the sheets as he fills her completely. His movements are rough, every thrust powerful, almost desperate, as he chases his own pleasure. She can feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers dig into her skin, the low growl escaping his lips as he loses himself in her.

Each thrust sends her reeling, her body arching as he pounds into her, the bed creaking beneath them. The pressure builds again, her senses overwhelmed by the roughness of his touch, the way his body dominates hers. It’s primal, raw, and she gives in to it, letting the pleasure wash over her once more.

He moves faster, harder, his breaths ragged as he pushes them both to the edge. His fingers tighten on her hips, pulling her back into him with each powerful thrust, his control slipping. She feels him tense behind her, his rhythm faltering as he reaches his peak, his final thrusts erratic and frantic.

With one final, forceful push, he groans, his body trembling as he spills into her, his grip tightening as he holds her close. She gasps, her own body quivering from the intensity of it all, pleasure mingling with the rawness of what they’ve just shared.

Aemond shifts beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulls her into his chest. His warmth envelops her, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing against her skin. She nestles closer, feeling the way his body fits perfectly around hers, his arm draped possessively over her stomach.

The room is quiet, just the sound of their breathing filling the space. She stares at the wall, her mind still spinning from everything—the way he held her, the feel of his body against hers. It feels so real, so perfect, and it terrifies her.

"I'm hungry," she whines.

And then, he laughs. It’s quiet, just a low chuckle, but she feels his whole body move behind her, his chest pressing into her back as his shoulders shake slightly. She doesn’t need to see his face to know how he looks when he laughs - his lips upturned slightly, the sound soft but genuine, his whole body leaning forward with it. It’s rare, but she cherishes it every time.

She smiles to herself, her heart swelling in her chest. She likes him too much, more than she ever thought she would. Maybe she even loves him. The thought sends a pang through her, bittersweet and undeniable. Loving him wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this, but it’s too late to deny it.

But she’ll leave soon. And when she comes back, she’ll tell him the truth. She needs to know if there’s space for her in his life, or if the woman he guards so fiercely already holds that place.

Her chest tightens at the thought. She wants to be the one he turns to, the one he holds like this, the one he laughs with. But she can’t let herself be second. Not again.

She closes her eyes, breathing in the moment, memorizing how it feels to be wrapped in his arms. Because when she returns, everything will change.

One way or another.

She sits cross-legged on Arianne’s living room floor, nursing a glass of wine as she absentmindedly swirls the deep red liquid around in her glass. The cozy, dimly lit flat is filled with the soft sounds of an old record playing in the background, casting a nostalgic haze over the room. Arianne, always effortlessly composed, lounges on the couch, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders as she watches her with a knowing look in her eyes.

"You sneaky little bitch," Arianne says, narrowing her eyes playfully, lips curving into a teasing smirk. She exaggerates a cross-eyed look, making her wince and laugh in guilt.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner,” she mumbles, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass.

“Yeah, you should have,” Arianne huffs, tossing a pillow at her. “I would’ve liked to know you were fucking Aemond Targaryen, for gods’ sake! Girl, you should have told me!”

She winces again, guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sor—"

“Aemond. Fucking. Targaryen of all people,” Arianne says, incredulous, her eyes wide as she takes a gulp of her wine. “He doesn’t seem like your type, though. What’s going on there?”

She blinks, a little taken aback by that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Arianne begins, leaning back into the couch with a lazy smile, “he’s Aemond Targaryen. The man calls Facebook ‘Book of the Face,’ for crying out loud. Posh, arrogant prick.”

“He’s posh? You’re a bloody Martell!” She retorts, raising her glass to her lips. “And for the record, he’s not even on Facebook.”

Arianne rolls her eyes dramatically. “Weird. I’d have thought the youngest one, Daeron, would’ve been more your type. The life of the party, you know?”

Of course, she’d say that. Arianne has known the Targaryens for most of her life. The Martells, like the Targaryens, are part of Westeros' seven most prominent families—the others being the Starks, Lannisters, Tullys, Tyrells, and Baratheons. In these circles, it’s not just about wealth or influence; it's about legacy. Apart from the reclusive Starks, the children of these families grow up in each other's orbits, attending the same elite schools, galas, and events that reinforce their status at the top.

Wherever life takes them, they find one another, keeping close within their exclusive, almost impenetrable social circle. Friendships and rivalries are passed down from generation to generation, their connections as powerful as the fortunes they control. She understands this better than anyone. Her family, after all, has sat on the board of Targaryen Consolidated for generations, their fates intertwined with the silver-haired dynasty. It’s a world where the personal and professional are inseparable, where trust is as valuable as the wealth that surrounds them.

She shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, Daeron’s... charming in his own way, but he’s basically Aegon if he wasn’t trying to screw anything in a dress.”

Arianne bursts into laughter, loud and unfiltered, leaning her head back. “Aegon’s fun though! I’ve hooked up with him a couple of times, and the sex was goo-ood!”

She groans, burying her face in her hands. “Ew, stop!”

“I’m just saying,” Arianne continues, completely unbothered. “Aegon may be a bit of a mess, but at least he knows how to have a good time. Aemond, on the other hand…” She trails off, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole situation. “I can’t believe you’re with him.”

She rolls her eyes, though a small smile tugs at her lips. “It’s not like that. Not really.”

Arianne scoots closer, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

She sighs, taking a deep breath before the words tumble out. “I think I’m falling for him, Ari. But... It's so confusing. I mean, I was in love with Daeron not even a year ago. How does that even look? Like I’m hopping from one brother to the other.”

Arianne’s teasing expression softens at that, and she reaches out, placing a hand on her knee. “You…” she says gently, her voice lacking its usual playful edge. “You’re not hopping from one brother to the next. You’re figuring out what you want. It’s okay to change, to grow. And it’s okay to love someone new.”

Arianne tilts her head, considering her words carefully. “Look, if Aemond thought you were confused, he wouldn’t be spending all this time with you. He’s smart—too smart to waste his time on something that doesn’t matter to him. And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he does care about you.”

She lets the words sink in, her chest tightening. “But it’s so much more complicated. He’s seeing someone—or was seeing someone. I don’t even know. He says it’s not serious, but…”

Arianne lets out a sympathetic sigh, pulling her into a side hug. “You need to talk to him. Really talk to him. Figure out where you both stand.”

She leans into her, resting her head on Arianne’s shoulder. “I’m scared. What if telling him ruins everything?”

Arianne rubs her back gently. “And what if it doesn’t? What if this is exactly what you both need to figure out where you’re going? You can’t keep avoiding it.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him when I get back.”

“And if it’s real,” Arianne adds softly, “you won’t lose him. But if it’s not... you’ll be okay. I think you deserve better anyway.”

“Stop!” She whines. She then smiles, feeling lighter. “Thanks, Ari.”

“Anytime,” Arianne grins, nudging her playfully. “Now, can we please watch something trashy and stop talking about your Targaryen boys? My brain needs a break from all this drama.”

She laughs, grateful for the distraction. “I brought soda and chips!”

Arianne cheers, grabbing the remote. “You know just how to spoil me.”

“Ae-mond, please…”

On their last night before her flight back to King's Landing, they move slowly together, every touch deliberate and heavy. Their bodies come together with a fervor that’s almost desperate, as if they’re trying to hold onto something that’s slipping through their fingers.

Each kiss feels like a search, an attempt to erase the lingering traces of someone else’s touch from his skin. She wonders if she’ll ever fully wash away the imprint of another’s fingertips, or if she’s merely adding her own layer to him. Every caress, every kiss is an exercise in forensics, a quest to mark him with her own brand, hoping that her touch will replace any remnants of someone else.

As he presses into her with a familiar, almost instinctive harshness, she can’t help but wonder if the other girl’s body was fuller, more curvaceous. The way he handles her, the way he’s rough and gentle all at once, speaks of an experience that goes beyond her. His touch is meticulous, as if he’s dedicated to exploring every contour of her body with a reverence she feels he must have practiced before.

She’s acutely aware that he isn’t new to the art of adoration. His hands, his lips, his entire presence seem to carry a certain expertise—each stroke, each touch is a testament to a history of worshiping a woman’s body with precision and care. He seems to know exactly where to touch, how to press, as if he’s memorized the map of desire and is determined to chart every inch of her.

With every touch, she is reminded that there is someone else. It breaks her like nothing else.

Aemond’s hands roam with purpose, tracing every curve, every hollow with a skill that leaves her breathless. She can’t shake the thought that this is a ritual of sorts, a final act of devotion before she departs. Each touch, each kiss feels like an affirmation of what they’ve shared, an attempt to seal their moments together into something tangible, something she can carry with her.

As she nears her release, her body arches and shudders beneath him, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He follows soon after, his movements urgent and final, his breath ragged against her skin.

Afterward, they lie together in the dim room, the sounds of crickets chirping softly through the open window.

“How are you getting to the airport?” His voice is soft in a way that she wishes she can bottle up and take with her.

“Dad’s sending a car to the flat,” she replies, her voice muffled by the pillow and his embrace.

The room is filled with the subtle buzz of the lamp and the gentle rustling of the curtains in the night breeze. Aemond pulls her close, his arms wrapping around her as he kisses her shoulder tenderly.

When they wake, he says nothing as she takes a shower in a hurry to leave. He cooks a quick breakfast for them both with whatever he could find in her fridge, and she eats like a woman starved. He kisses her gently before he lets her go, and she cannot help but think.

She’s leaving every inch of Aemond to another woman exclusively for three weeks. What if he decides he does not want her when she comes back?

Then the thought at the back of her mind resurfaces - that she’s the other woman. No matter what Aemond says, she knows that much to be true.

“Aemond…?” She murmurs, quickly debating whether or not she should tell him now, if only so that he’d be tempted to not push her aside completely in her absence.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” 

The words die on her tongue, just like a piece of her heart does when she gets on the plane.

The weeks pass by in a blur, and soon she finds herself standing in a crowded event hall, meeting her half-siblings after what feels like an eternity. Two of them are launching their new venture in the city, and the occasion has brought them all together. She interacts with them as much as she can, offering polite conversation and smiles, but she can’t help but feel a quiet astonishment at how little she truly knows about them. Despite the shared blood, they seem like strangers bound only by a distant connection.

It isn’t surprising, really. Jasper Wylde’s five children by his first wife had been adults long before he met her mother, and by the time she was born, the youngest of them was just leaving for college. The age gap, the separate lives - they had grown up worlds apart. There’s only so much they could have in common, and that knowledge weighs heavily on her as she exchanges pleasantries with them, feeling the disconnect more keenly with each passing moment.

She watches them closely - the way they move through the crowd, how they speak to each other with an ease that she’s never known with them. They have their own inside jokes, shared memories, and a rhythm that she’s never been a part of. It’s like watching a family dynamic she can’t quite break into, one she’s always been on the outskirts of. Even as they make small talk, she feels the invisible walls between them, the years of absence and unfamiliarity creating a distance that no amount of cordiality can erase.

But she plays her part—engages when they speak to her, listens as they recount their stories, and smiles when it’s appropriate. Yet all the while, she feels that sense of being on the outside looking in. They talk about their father, Jasper, with a familiarity that she can’t match, their experiences with him vastly different from her own. It’s clear that, in many ways, they had a father she never really knew.

What amazes her most, though, is how much closer she feels to the Targaryens than to her own blood. The realization strikes her with a quiet weight as she stands among her half-siblings, exchanging polite words, but never quite connecting. With the Targaryens, everything feels different—natural, easy, as though she belongs in their orbit in a way she never has with her own family.

With the Targaryens, she doesn’t feel like she’s on the outside looking in. She belongs. In their world, she’s more than just the youngest child of a man with a complicated past - she’s someone who matters.

Being home has made her feel strangely untethered. It’s not that she isn’t used to it—this distance from Aemond—but somehow, this time it feels different. Maybe it’s because she knows she’ll see him again soon, in just a matter of weeks, but it feels like the days are dragging by, each one marked by the weight of missing him.

She lies in bed late one evening, her phone resting on the pillow next to her, waiting for the familiar buzz. It’s become a routine—Aemond calling just before she falls asleep, his voice the last thing she hears at night. When the phone finally lights up with his name, she answers without hesitation.

"Hey," she says, trying to keep her voice casual, but her heart picks up the pace as soon as she hears his breath on the other end.

"Hey," he replies softly. There’s a brief pause, and she can hear the faint sounds of his apartment in the background—the muffled hum of traffic, the creak of his chair. "How’s home?"

"Fine, I guess. Quiet." She smiles a little, thinking of how everything feels slower here. "I saw my half-siblings today, for the launch thing."

"How was that?" His tone is neutral, but she knows he’s asking because he cares, not out of mere politeness.

"It was... weird. I don’t know, I barely know them. I guess I’m just realizing how distant we are." She pauses, feeling the words settle in the quiet between them. "I feel closer to your family than to mine. Maybe because yours is the better family. Although, I do have the better father."

He’s quiet for a moment, and she imagines him leaning back in his chair, considering her words. “I can assure you, your family is just fine. You don’t want mine.”

She laughs, a little caught off guard by the softness in his voice. "Yeah, maybe."

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking about nothing in particular—work, the weather, what he had for dinner. It’s all so simple, so familiar, and yet she finds herself hanging on every word, savoring the sound of his voice, the way he says her name. It’s the closest she can get to him right now, and it isn’t enough.

There’s a pause, and then Aemond asks, "So, how long now? Two weeks?"

She bites her lip, her heart skipping a beat. "Yeah, just about."

"You’re counting the days?"

She can hear the smile in his voice, and she feels her cheeks flush despite herself. "Maybe."

"You miss me," he says, his voice gentle, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement, and it lands with a weight that she can feel in her chest.

"Maybe I do," she admits quietly, her heart pounding. There’s a moment of silence, and in that space, the truth presses at the edges of her thoughts, threatening to spill out.

When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more serious. "Aemond, we need to talk.”

She hears him shift on the other end, a subtle rustling of fabric. "What is it?"

She hesitates, not ready to say it yet. "A conversation best had in person."

"Alright," he says, his voice low, almost tender. 

She hangs up, her heart racing, her fingers still gripping the phone tightly. The warmth of his words lingers, solidifying her resolve. When she sees him again, she’ll tell him. She’ll tell him everything.

The event takes place in a grand hall, tucked away in the heart of the city but worlds apart from the modern, bustling life outside. The walls are lined with rich mahogany wood, centuries-old oil portraits of stern ancestors in gilded frames, and shelves stacked high with leather-bound books whose spines are worn with age. 

She steps inside and is immediately enveloped in the hushed murmurs of conversation, the gentle clinking of crystal glasses, and the soft rustle of fabric as guests move gracefully through the dimly lit space. Despite the outward calm, there’s an electric tension in the air as the auctioneer lifts the gavel to announce each winning bid. There’s a certain satisfaction, almost smug, in the faces of those who come away with a prized possession, as if they’ve secured another piece of their heritage. For the others, there’s no outward disappointment—just a cool, composed silence, knowing there will be another opportunity to prove their worth.

She sits back, observing it all, feeling both a part of this world and strangely removed from it. The dark paneling on the walls, the rich smell of leather and smoke, the soft glow of the fireplace at the far end of the room - it’s all familiar, yet there’s something about it that feels performative, as if the evening is a carefully constructed illusion. The charity, the good intentions, seem secondary to the ritual of it all. As the final item is brought out - a centuries-old manuscript in a glass case - the room stills. In the end, the manuscript is sold for an astronomical price. The gavel falls with a sharp crack, and polite applause ripples through the crowd, though it’s more a gesture of respect than enthusiasm.

As the final round of applause fades, the grand oak doors at the back of the room swing open, and Viserys Targaryen steps forward. His presence is immediately felt, even if he looks frail and thinner than ever before. She heard from Aemond that he’d taken up residence at Dragonstone now, having bought an apartment for himself to stay after his parents' secret, unofficial separation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice is smooth, warm, and commanding all at once, carrying easily over the subdued murmur of the crowd. "What a night this has been. I’m not sure what’s more impressive - the art we’ve auctioned off or the fact that some of you managed to keep your bids as discreet as you did. Subtlety, after all, is an art in itself," he says with a slight chuckle, eliciting polite laughter from the audience.

"Your generosity tonight is overwhelming," he continues, his tone shifting to one of sincere gratitude. "These contributions will go a long way in supporting the causes we hold dear, ensuring that history is preserved for future generations to appreciate - something I think we all understand better than most."

"And now," Viserys adds with a glint of amusement, "I know you’ve all been quite serious about your bidding, but it's time to relax a little." The room hums in agreement.

"Please," he gestures toward the doors leading to the adjoining ballroom, "join me for a night of music, dancing, and, of course, more wine. I think we’ve all earned it after such a spectacular evening."

With a final smile, Viserys steps down from the podium, the soft clapping of the crowd filling the room as guests begin to rise from their seats, gathering their evening coats and handbags. The heavy double doors to the ballroom swing open, revealing a space even grander than the auction hall. The light spills out, golden and inviting, as the soft strains of a string quartet begin to play from within.

She takes her father’s hand and walks in with him, their pace in tandem with each other. 

Do you think we’ll make it through this evening without someone bringing up a new investment opportunity?" she murmurs, her voice laced with dry amusement, eyes scanning the sea of chandeliers, gilded mirrors, and finely dressed people mingling as they enter the ballroom.

Jasper Wylde glances down at her with a half-smile. "Doubt it," he says. "There’s always someone with a 'brilliant' idea that just needs a little backing."

She lets out a soft chuckle. "Maybe we should place bets on who brings it up first."

"Ten crowns on Lord Massey," he says, his tone casual, but the glint in his eye betrays his amusement. "He’s been circling us all night."

"You're on," she replies, feeling lighter as they reach the grand archway leading into the ballroom. The gentle strains of the string quartet swirl around them, and she allows herself to soak in the surroundings.

Their moment of ease is brief. As soon as they step fully into the room, a cohort of middle-aged men in dark suits, all clutching glasses of whiskey, make their approach, their faces lighting up at the sight of her father. She can see the shift in his demeanor - the casualness dropping ever so slightly, replaced by a more guarded, professional air.

"Ah, here we go," Jasper mutters under his breath. 

One of the men, a stocky figure with graying hair and a booming voice, claps her father on the shoulder. "Ironrod, just the man we were looking for!" he says, raising his glass. "We were just discussing the latest venture down in Storm’s End. Care to weigh in?"

Her father gives her a rueful look, the corner of his mouth quirking as if to say I told you so. "Duty calls," he says softly to her, before turning to the group with a more affable expression. "Gentlemen, lead the way."

And just like that, he’s swept up into the conversation, nodding and exchanging knowing glances with the men as they disappear into a corner of the ballroom. Before she can fully orient herself, Daeron appears at her side, his usual easy grin plastered across his face.

"Well, look who it is," he says warmly, pulling her into a quick embrace. "I thought I'd have to search the entire ballroom to find you."

She laughs lightly. "I wasn’t hiding, just waiting for you to make your grand entrance. How was Essos?"

Daeron’s face lights up, and he launches into a recount of his summer abroad with Helaena, his energy infectious. "It was wild. Good time with Hel, she took me along to the coastline and we went around looking for almost-extinct bugs in Lys." He rolls his eyes but there’s fondness in his voice.

She smiles at the thought of Helaena. "Sounds like her. Where is she tonight?"

"With our grandfather and Aemond, somewhere over there," Daeron says, nodding toward a nearby cluster of people. Sure enough, she spots Helaena waving enthusiastically, her face alight with joy as she talks to Otto. Aemond, standing next to her, gives a small, almost imperceptible nod when their eyes meet. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than it should, and her heart stirs in response.

She can’t help but smile softly, and, on a whim, she winks at him. She’s had a bad feeling about this night ever since she woke, but it all dissipates massively the moment his gaze meets hers. He doesn’t react outwardly, but there’s something in his posture that shifts ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment.

Daeron catches the exchange but remains oblivious, laughing as he gestures to the ballroom. "Come on, let’s take a look around. It's the same as always, but a little darker, don't you think?"

“Perhaps,” she remarks dryly, glancing around at the decadent decor.

As they stroll through the room, their eyes catch Will Tyrell, who is deep in conversation with an older man near the far end of the ballroom.

"Ah, Will," Daeron says, grinning as he gestures toward him. "His father's expanding their business, you know. Will's been training to take over soon. Everyone's talking about it."

"I’ve seen him around campus," she replies, keeping her voice casual. "We almost hooked up once, actually."

Daeron raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really? What happened?"

Her stomach twists at the memory, a flash of the panic that had overwhelmed her that night. She remembers calling Aemond, his voice steadying her over the phone as she told him where she was. He’d picked her up, no questions asked. The bitterness that rises in her throat is unexpected, but it’s there, sharp and real.

"Don’t even ask," she mutters, her voice tight as she glances away, trying to shake off the heaviness of the memory.

Daeron, sensing her shift in mood, just nods, his usual carefree demeanor faltering slightly. He doesn’t push for details, instead flashing her a soft smile as they continue to walk through the room, the tension between them dissipating into the hum of the ballroom.

"Oh look, it’s the little runts," Aegon drawls, his speech a bit slurred. He saunters toward them, an empty champagne flute dangling from his fingers, Sara Snow by his side. She’s looking slightly amused, though there’s a softness in her expression that suggests she's trying to rein him in.

"Aegon," Daeron greets him with mock surprise, a grin spreading across his face. “Dude you’re already drunk, mum’s going to kill you.”

"Give it time," Aegon quips with a lazy smirk. "The night’s still young, brother."

Sara stifles a laugh, though her eyes are warm as she glances up at Aegon. "I’m doing my best to make sure he behaves," she says, her voice carrying a playful edge.

"Oh, please," Daeron rolls his eyes. "Aegon behaving is like...what, dragons coming back to life?”

"Exactly," Aegon retorts. "No fun at all."

"Yeah, you're all fun and no taste," Daeron jabs back. "In...well, pretty much everything."

Aegon dramatically clutches his chest as if wounded. "Excuse you, I happen to have impeccable taste."

"Oh really?" she chimes in, unable to resist the tease. "Let's not forget the time you tried to convince everyone that that neon green sports car was ‘classy.’ Or when you spent a fortune on that God-awful abstract painting that looked like a child had spilled paint on a canvas."

Aegon raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Hey, that car is an acquired taste, and the painting? It’s avant-garde. You wouldn’t get it."

Daeron bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "Right, keep telling yourself that."

But before anyone else can jump in, she adds with a smirk, "To be fair, Aegon has great taste in women."

Sara, who had been quietly listening, suddenly blushes furiously, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. She ducks her head, trying to hide her smile, but it’s clear she’s both flattered and embarrassed by the comment.

Aegon, however, grins wickedly. "Ah, finally, someone recognizes my true genius," he says, draping an arm around Sara, who shoots him a look but doesn’t pull away.

"Yeah, genius is the word I’d use," Daeron deadpans, earning another round of laughter from the group.

Aegon, noticeably tipsy and grinning like a Cheshire cat, leans in close to Sara, his words slightly garbled. "You know, Sara, I just remembered I left something...um, somewhere. How about we go find it together?"

Sara looks at him with a mixture of amusement and mild concern, but before she can respond, Aegon takes her hand and starts to guide her toward the door.

"Careful with that one," Daeron calls out, his tone light and teasing. "I’ve seen him turn a charity event into a rave before."

"Ah, don’t worry," she replies, her voice tinged with a hint of laughter. "I think he’s already got plans for a private after-party."

With a final chuckle, Daeron watches as they exit, the door closing behind them.

She turns back to Daeron, her gaze thoughtful. "By the way, what’s up with Floris? I haven’t seen her around tonight."

Daeron’s expression shifts, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. "Oh, um, we broke up," he says quietly, almost as if he’s still coming to terms with it.

Her heart twinges with genuine sympathy. "I’m really sorry to hear that. I hope you’re okay."

Daeron nods, managing a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. It’s been...a lot. But I’ll be fine."

"Where is she, then? At the event, I presume?"

"Yeah, she’s here," Daeron confirms. "Probably with her parents and sisters. It was a bit weird to be honest.”

“I can imagine.” Just then, a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes comes by. They each take one, and Daeron is about to take a sip when he is called away by Otto Hightower.

As Daeron makes his way through the crowd, she turns to find Arianne Martell approaching her, her presence immediately drawing attention with her striking elegance. “You look amazing, Ari!”

Arianne’s eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief as she greets her. “So do you. But let’s cut to the chase. That’s not the Targaryen I was expecting to see you with tonight.”

“I haven’t told him yet. The time isn’t right. Soon though.”

“You mean you keep putting it off.”

“No, I just… I don’t know.”

“Look around you, babe. Half of these people are on the lookout - and those Targaryen kids? All their mothers are training their girls to get one. If my father had his way, I’d be throwing myself at Aegon!”

“Ari! Don’t be so crude.”

“I’m being realistic. Make your move.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m your best friend.” 

As they talk, she feels a strange unease settling in her stomach. Her gaze drifts across the room, taking in the opulence and the perfectly polished ambiance of the ballroom. Something about it all feels off, like there’s an underlying current she can’t quite grasp.

Noticing her silence and distant look, Arianne asks, “Is everything okay? You seem a bit… off.”

She hesitates for a moment before responding, “I don’t know. It’s just… something feels off. I have this gut feeling, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Arianne’s brow furrows in concern. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, trying to shake off the unease. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere. Everything is so perfect, almost too perfect.”

Arianne’s brow furrows in concern. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, trying to shake off the unease. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if it’s just me being paranoid or if there’s actually something going on.”

Arianne nods, her expression thoughtful. “It’s in your head babe. Calm down alright? You’ll be fine!”

Aemond finds them, cutting through the crowd with an ease that only someone accustomed to these events could manage. His presence alone seems to command attention, and she feels her heart flutter as he approaches. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, his breath warm and comforting. “You look pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and genuine.

Her eyes follow him as he straightens, unable to help herself from shamelessly ogling him. The way his dark suit fits him so perfectly, the sharp cut of his jaw, the glint of his eyes—it’s all so striking that she finds it hard to look away. He’s right in front of her, and yet he feels like a distant star that she can’t quite reach, but desperately wants to.

Arianne, ever perceptive, catches the look on her face and raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, her tone dripping with teasing. “You know, give you some space.”

She winks at them both before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and slipping away into the crowd. Her departure leaves a space between them that feels both comforting yet like too much. “You look very nice,” she says.

Aemond’s lips curl into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he replies, his tone a mix of aloofness and affection that she finds utterly endearing. “Though I must say, I’m quite taken with how you look tonight.”

She catches his gaze, her smile widening. “Well, I’m glad I managed to impress you.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “You always manage to.”

There’s a pause, a moment of quiet intimacy, as their eyes lock. Aemond’s hand on her back feels reassuring, grounding her in the present. He then wordlessly gives her his hand, and she takes it. She always will, she is his.

With a gentle but purposeful tug, Aemond guides her through the maze of the ballroom, leading her into the darker, quieter corridors of the estate. The soft hum of distant conversations and the clinking of glasses fade as they move further from the main event.

Eventually, they reach a secluded room, dimly lit and private. Aemond closes the door behind them, cutting off the noise from the outside world. Without a word, he steps closer, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens. Aemond’s hands find her waist, his grip firm and possessive. 

His lips are demanding, their kisses fiery and passionate. She responds with equal fervor, her hands sliding up his chest to grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. The connection between them is raw, almost desperate, as if they’re trying to make up for lost time with every touch.

Aemond’s hands roam over her back, his fingers pressing firmly against her skin, as if he’s trying to imprint her presence into his memory. She can feel the heat of his body through the fabric of their clothes, the tension in his muscles as he holds her tightly.

She gasps into his mouth as he pulls her even closer, his touch igniting a fire within her. His hands travel down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, his lips trailing hot, urgent kisses along her jawline and down her neck. She arches into his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him back to her lips with a desperate hunger.

Gods, she likes him too much for her own good.

Finally, their lips part, and they break away, both gasping for breath. The room is filled with a lingering tension, the air heavy with the intensity of their embrace. They take a moment to collect themselves, their faces flushed and eyes still locked in a shared, heated gaze.

Aemond gently brushes a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender despite the fervor of their earlier kisses. “I have to go shake more hands,” he says, his voice reluctant. He offers a small, apologetic smile, his knuckles lingering on her cheek for a moment longer before he pulls away. “I’ll find you later.”

She nods, her heart still racing from their encounter. “Okay,” she replies softly, her voice a touch breathless. She watches as he turns to leave, and the moment he does - the feeling of unease comes back.

She walks back into the ballroom, smoothing down her dress and taking a deep breath to calm the rapid beat of her heart. The lingering warmth from Aemond’s touch is still on her skin, but the feeling of unease that had vanished in his presence now returns in full force.

As she steps further into the room, she spots a familiar face from across the crowd - one of the curators from the Westeros National Museum. He strides toward her with a knowing smile, gesturing to a nearby exhibit of her ancestor Coryanne Wylde’s paintings. “I was just about to ask if you’d seen these,” he says as they exchange pleasantries. “It’s rare to come across someone with a direct connection to the artist.” She smiles in response.

The curator nods in appreciation, and together, they walk over to the group of art enthusiasts who are gathered around the paintings. As they approach, she immediately recognizes someone else among them: her professor Alys Rivers. The professor’s sharp gaze softens slightly when she spots her, clearly surprised to see her here.

“Professor! So good to see you here, I wasn’t expecting you! Are you with someone?”

Alys chuckles lightly, offering a polite smile and points her finger beyond her shoulder. “That’s my brother.” She raises her eyebrows as she follows her gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Your brother’s Headmaster Strong?”

“My half-brother, yes. Which explains the different surnames.”

“Wow, small world.”

“We were just discussing some of the first-edition Volantene classics that we’ve been trying to source for the museum,” one of the curators says, a note of excitement in his voice. “A few Valyrian classics as well. It’s been quite the hunt.”

Her interest piques at the mention of Valyrian literature. The conversation drifts toward a particular Valyrian classic, The Last Embrace, and her attention locks in immediately, memories of Aemond reading it to her still vivid in her mind. One of the curators leans forward, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s such a beautiful work,” he says. “That passage where they talk about love being both a gift and a curse? The language is so intricate, it’s no wonder it’s one of the rarest Valyrian texts we’ve managed to preserve.”

Another curator nods in agreement. “Yes, I believe the exact line is something about love being a disease, but one we choose to suffer from?”

Before Wylde can speak, Professor Rivers steps in, her voice measured and calm. “Love is a disease of the mind, but one we willingly suffer for. It’s one of the most poignant lines in the entire text.”

Wylde's breath catches at the familiarity of the words. It was the same phrase he had marked, tracing the words as he read.

“That line,” Professor Rivers continues, “it’s always struck me. The complexity of love in Valyrian culture—how it could be both destructive and profound at the same time.”

The first curator smiles thoughtfully. “It’s fascinating how much depth there is in just one sentence. That’s what makes it a masterpiece. We’ve been trying to source a first-edition copy for years now.”

Rivers nods. “It’s difficult to find. I was lucky enough to own one of the first editions. Loaned it to someone close a while back, actually.”

Her chest tightens. The same line. The same book. She tries to push the thought away, but it grips her, the unease from earlier settling deep in her bones.

I know someone who can find the premium first edition copies, he had said.

But she doesn’t even teach him. And he’s Aemond Targaryen - he probably knows a hundred people of resource who can find him all the books he wants.

But there’s only three known copies of the first print in Westeros…

The feeling of unease that she had pushed aside the entire night comes back in full force - she doesn’t know why. It is a nagging feeling that refuses to go away, and she does not know what she’ll do about it.

Before she can dwell on it further, an attendant addresses her. He tells her that her father is asking for her from across the room. She excuses herself, turning away from the group with a polite smile. As she moves, she catches a fleeting glimpse of Professor Rivers’ necklace, the light glinting off the familiar design. Her breath falters.

She recognizes it.

A few months ago, she had seen that very necklace at Aemond’s apartment. She remembers asking him about it, how he had alluded to it belonging to a woman that he’s seeing. At the time, she hadn’t pressed him, unsure if she even wanted to know the details.

One of the curators points out the necklace, commenting on its unique craftsmanship. “That’s a Strong family heirloom, isn’t it?” he asks with admiration. “Quite the rare piece. One of a kind, if I’m not mistaken.”

Alys smiles, her hand brushing over the pendant. “Yes, it is. Passed down through generations. Only one of a kind.”

She feels like the ground is shifting beneath her feet. She can’t stop the flood of thoughts now, the connections falling into place. Her chest tightens as she pulls away from the group, her steps unsteady, her mind whirling with possibilities she doesn’t want to entertain.

No. It’s not what you think. It can’t be.

“It’s very beautiful, professor,” she says. “It was… uhm… it was nice to see you here. I’m going back to… my father’s expecting me.” The torrid nature of her thoughts shows on her face, and she can feel her palms sweating as the music and the crowd threaten to overwhelm her.

“Are you alright, Ms Wylde? You seem quite disoriented,” her professor says. She holds her onto her elbow to help steady her even if she hasn’t quite careened to the floor yet. Her skin burns where she holds her, and she wonders if she knows.

She looks her professor straight in her eyes, hoping to find any recognition. Then again, she doesn’t want to know too. 

“No, just… you know how these things can be. They tire you out quickly I suppose. I’m just going to…” 

She walks out of the ballroom and into the vast expanse of open gardens. She breathes and breathes and breathes.

It can’t be.

MASTERLIST

NO TAG LIST. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON POST NOTIFS FOR @randomdragonfics for fic updates!

[dollwrites]

plsplspls teacher!gojo anal or something noncon anythingg

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )

gojo had been planning since the day he started mentoring you, for the exact moment that he would take your anal virginity. he knew you must never have taken it in the ass— you were far too sweet and subservient, abiding by all of the extra rules he put in place for you alone ( he did so to test your obedience and choose the best way to have you all to himself, of course ).

he decides to wait until the exchange event before he makes his move; during one of the group battles, when you’re separated from your peers, he pounces.

gojo had fantasized about this very moment so many times.

the moment where you squirmed beneath him, pushed with your upper body smushed against the rough bark of a large tree, as he held handfuls of your ass cheeks, teasing himself and you by spreading them wide, scraping at your clenching ring with the very tip of his thumb.

he loves the way you whimper ‘no’ as his thumb pushes in raw, and your fingers grip the bark tighter. you couldn’t fight him; that was your teacher, after all.

“don’t you worry, princess, i’m not going to hurt ya.” the way he croons it is so flippant that it is obviously a lie. at the very least, he leans forward and allows spit to drizzle from his lips and glob between your cheeks, which he rubs against your hole with his thumb, before pushing it inside again. “such a tight fit, i’ll have to tease you a bit to open you up before you’d be able to take my cock.” as he says this, his free hand hooks under your midriff, his fingers rubbing at your cunt, feeling around in rough circles until he finds your bud. though you sniffle and beg him to stop, he works your clit until it’s swollen, and you’re dripping slick, clenching around nothing— all the while, he’s pumping his thumb in and out of your ass, getting you used to the feeling of taking something in this uncharted territory.

it’s a totally different story when gojo forces his cock in, instead. your eyes go wide as your brain is flooded with the sensations of this invasion. you were way too tight to accommodate something as big and gojo’s cock, and you pushed yourself on to your tiptoes, pulling with your nails dug deep into the wood to escape him, but he merely takes a couple of steps forward and smashes his body against your back. you’re trapped, with his weight shoving you into the tree, and you can do nothing to stop his conquest. “now, now, i wanted to be as gentle as possible, but if you insist on fighting me,” gojo smacks his finger pads against your button roughly, his mouth right up against your ear, “i’ll have to subdue you and take it by force. you don’t want that, right? for your friends to find you tied up, unconscious, dripping cum from a sore, little asshole?” when you sniff and shake your head, he pouts, mocking you. “no? good girl, that’s exactly right.” planting a sloppy kiss on your ear, he ruts into you, fucking you deep and slow, making sure you feel every inch, bottoming out hard to hear your voice break as you plead with him to just stop. he’s breaking you, that’s what you keep telling him, but he just grins and even laughs a breathy, grunting laugh at your desperation. “if you just stand there and let me have it, i might even make you feel good once i’ve cum in your ass. whattya say, sweetheart? when i’ve gaped you out, i’ll lick that warm pussy as a way to say thank you for letting me rape your ass.”

[meangirls-imagines]

Hi bubby! hey, could i get a smut fic/imagine with top! regina teaching an inexperienced y/n sex stuff? y/n is all like "she is jst teaching me" but regina definitely has a crush on y/n and is taking the opportunity to make a move on reader?? lots of praise, size difference, thigh riding? pls? ^^ thanks

Sex Education

Description: Reader and Regina are partnered for a project in health class. Regina learns that reader hasn't had ✨spicy✨ time before and offers a helping hand to her crush.

WARNINGS: top!regina, bottom!reader, praise kink, size kink (regina is 5'10 and reader is 5'3), thigh riding (reader receiving), oral (regina and reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), regina has a mommy kink hehe, aftercare, regina is a warning herself.

18+!!!!!! Get your holy water. Amen

Regina George always got what she wanted.

New car? Her dad had it for her within hours.

New shoes? Same-day shipping.

New flavor of the month? She had a line of North Shore students to choose from.

The only flavor Regina wanted, was one she had never even thought of tasting until recently.

Y/N Y/L/N.

The girl was a nobody to everyone at North Shore, but as of lately, she was everything to Regina. The blonde had noticed Y/N one day in health, trying to keep up with Coach Carr's weird lesson plans.

The girl had been nibbling on the end of her pen, listening to the droning sound of the man's voice as he tried to explain condoms to the class. Regina's eyes stay glued to the girl's mouth the whole class, the blonde imagining the filthiest things.

She had told Gretchen to get as much information on the girl as she could for her, which thankfully for Regina, didn't take long. She learned that Y/N had moved to North Shore halfway through their freshman year, played softball, and was gay.

Regina could already taste the victory.

For the next few weeks, the blonde was obsessed with Y/N. Going as far as to stay after school and watch the girl workout with her teammates. Y/N was noticing the attention she was getting from Regina, as did her friends, but she shook it off as Regina just playing with her mind.

It all came to a head a week later, as Coach Carr read out Y/N and Regina's names to be partnered up. The blonde smiled smugly at Y/N, making her blush deeply. As the man explained their "project" (he told them to go watch porn and write a paper about it), Regina moved over to sit next to Y/N.

"So. I know you workout after school, but how about you come over so we can do this project and...get to know each other more?" Y/N couldn't do anything but nod. The girl had no idea what she had just signed up for.

Hours later, the girls were in Regina's room, the blonde scrolling through PornHub, trying to find a semi interesting video. Y/N was trying to figure out how to write an essay about porn when Regina spoke up.

"So, what's your preferred category of porn, baby?" Y/N blushed deeply. "O-oh. I don't watch it." Regina looked at the girl curiously. "Really? That's adorable, baby. I'm honored to take your porn virginity."

Y/N's blush got even deeper. Regina instantly noticed. "What's wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Don't be. It's just porn." Y/N shook her head and tried to go back to her outline but Regina gently grabbed her chin to stop her.

"Are you embarrassed about something else, sweetie? You can tell me. We're friends now, this is what friends do." Y/N didn't think that was true but she knew Regina was right somehow. Y/N sighed and whispered.

"I've never had sex with a girl before."

Regina felt like she hit the lottery. Oh, she was going to ruin this girl. "That's okay baby. You don't have to be embarrassed. If you don't mind me asking, who did you lose your virginity to?" Y/N looked down at her lap. "It was Jack on the football team." Regina smiled softly at the girl. "Oh, you sweet thing. I bet he didn't even make you finish, did he?"

Y/N shook her head. "It was more of an enjoyable experience for him." Regina nodded and rubbed Y/N's arm, pretending to ignore the goosebumps that formed. "Well, I have experience in making girls feel good. How about I help you out? Make you experience how you first time should've gone."

Y/N hesitantly nodded and the blonde smashed their lips together. The kiss started out soft and sweet but Regina turned it into a fiery, passionate make out. She pulled the shorter girl onto her lap, hands automatically going to her ass.

Y/N moaned at the contact, giving Regina the chance to begin marking up her neck. "Fuck. You're gonna look so pretty with my marks all over you baby." Y/N whimpered and began to softly grind against Regina's thigh. The blonde smirked and grabbed Y/N's hips, guiding her.

"Oh, my sweet girl, you just need some relief don't you? Don't worry, Mommy will take care of you." Y/N felt heat shoot straight to her core as she tried to grind faster, but the blonde kept her pace. "No, no baby. I wanna enjoy this. I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else. You're only gonna want me. Understand?"

Y/N nodded. "Yes, Mommy." Regina groaned. "And such good manners. I'm keeping you forever baby. And since you've been so good, use Mommy's thigh to get yourself off and you'll get a reward."

Y/N began to grind faster, desperate to please the blonde beneath her. Regina watched as the girl rode her thigh like a mad woman. She smiled at the desperation in Y/N's movements. She put her hands up Y/N's shirt, grabbing at her breasts as the girl moaned loudly.

"Cum whenever you need baby. You're doing so good." That was the breaking point for Y/N as she stiffened, her orgasm washing over her as Regina whispered praises to her. Y/N slumped against the blonde, Regina kissing her temple.

"Take your time baby, we have all the time in the world."

Y/N was now on her back, fully naked, watching Regina strip. "Since you've been so good, I told you that you would get a reward." Y/N nodded excitedly as Regina slowly crawled up the bed, kissing her way up Y/N's body.

Y/N was curious to know what her reward was when Regina crawled all the way up to Y/N's face, her pussy on full display for the girl beneath her. "Mommy is going to let you eat her pussy baby. We're gonna do something fun."

Regina turned and straddled Y/N's face, still hovering. "While you eat Mommy's pussy, Mommy is going to eat your pussy baby. Sound fun?" Y/N nodded and pulled Regina's pussy closer to her face and began to eat her like she was her last meal.

Regina was caught off guard but moaned at the feeling. "Oh fuck. Such a good girl aren't you baby?" Y/N moaned and Regina leaned down and gently sucked Y/N's clit into her mouth, causing the girl's hips to buck.

Regina smirked and began licking and sucking harder. Y/N was moaning into her pussy and the vibrations sent shivers down her spine. They began to bring each other to a shared high. Regina wanted Y/N to cum before her, since she had been so good and expertly slid two fingers into Y/N's core.

The girl moaned loudly as the blonde began to pump her fingers. Y/N kept eating Regina's pussy as she desperately wanted the blonde to feel good. Regina could tell Y/N was getting close, as was she. The blonde spoke up. "You can cum whenever, angel. Mommy wants to make you feel good. You've been such a good girl."

Y/N felt the pleasure bubble burst as Regina's words took her over the edge, the girl cumming all over Regina's fingers. Y/N cumming so pretty for her set her off as she came hard in Y/N's mouth. They helped each other ride out their highs as Regina adjusted and laid next to Y/N.

She looked at the girl, who had her cum covering the lower half of her face. She looked blissfully fucked out as Regina smirked at her work. She leaned over and kissed Y/N, also licking her cum off her face, moaning at the taste of herself.

The blonde got up, smiling at the whine Y/N let out. "Hang on baby. I gotta get you cleaned up." Y/N unwillingly let Regina go to the bathroom to grab a damp towel.

The blonde gently took the towel and wiped between Y/N's thighs, cleaning the mess as Y/N twitched. "Shhh...baby. I'm almost done. My good, sweet girl. So perfect." Y/N melted into the mattress at the praise.

The blonde finished her job and cleaned herself quickly before grabbing clothes for her any Y/N. After gently wrestling Y/N into the clothes, the blonde walked to the mini fridge she had in her room and grabbed a water, a gatorade, and a banana and gently coaxed Y/N to take the snacks.

Y/N drank all the gatorade, three quarters of the water and ate the banana and Regina pulled the girl into her arms. "You did so good for me baby. My sweet angel. All mine, huh baby?" Y/N nodded sleepily. "All yours, Mommy."

The next day in school, dressed in a pink hoodie a size too big, and covered in a fresh set of hickies, Y/N walked with her new girlfriend to Health class. No one said a word when Regina pulled Y/N into her lap, whispering what their classmates assumed the dirtiest things in her ear, the two girls fully ignoring Coach Carr.

No one said anything about the new couple, knowing better than to ask questions.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far away, towards the lands of the enemy.

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞 | Ch.2

When orcs cross your lands you choose survival. After that you choose selfish desire which makes for a nice turn of events.

WC: 2.2k

Part one of the Lets make Adar a dad fic

Waldreg was a rat, always had been.

But nowadays, with evil lurking he was making quite the points to assure survival. 

After Bronwyn gave her speech about fighting and Waldreg had countered it with bowing down for survival you had followed him out of the gates of Ostirith, and during the night, bowed down before your enemy.

Before you, Waldreg made a speech of loyalty but was ignored by the orcs' leader.

Ignored until he had called him Sauron. 

You watched Waldreg be grabbed by the throat and thrown to the ground, still offering loyalty to whoever the man before you all might be.

Again he was ignored, as the man took Rowan who stood right before you and was dragged to face the crowd, forced to kneel as the orc leader tossed a dagger at Waldreg's chest. Finally speaking.

"Only blood can bind." 

Before your eyes, in the torch lit town you watched as Waldreg did as instructed, and killed your friend to pledge his loyalty.

Next thing you knew you were following along with orders, listening to Adar give his speech to the Uruks he called his childen. Abd then trying to hide from your now enemies, praying the Uruks recognised you as their ally.

Only the Uruks weren't the biggest of your worries as another troop came in on horseback to aid the oposing forces.

So you hid with the remainder of the troop that managed to escape. You hid in the woods until the ground shook and fire rained from the sky and by the time the enemy fled you were back with Adar and the others and the start of building a new home was done.

The Southlands were no longer, from now on you were citizens of Mordor.

Scouts were sent off and remaining troops arrived with all belongings, ready to build.

But first it was time for celebration.

Uruks howled and feasted on fallen soldiers, even offering you some meat but you politely declined. 

Instead you found the other humans, all getting drunk off whatever survived the onslaught. So you moved on from them too, not feeling like drinking after all that happened. Your last stop was somewhere off at the edge of the town's remains where you stared at the smouldering ashes and low dancing flames on the edge of dying out.

That too didn't bring your mind peace and quiet, so you moved on again. Wandering around until you almost ran into someone after turning a corner. 

"Not of the celebrating kind, child?" Adar himself stood before you, two mugs in hand. He offered one to you as he went to sit on some fallen support beams.

"I'm not really one for getting drunk or feasting on my enemies' flesh, no." You joined his side and sat down. "Don't take me wrong, I am glad your Uruks have a home now." Your words ended with a smile, buried behind the drink. It was bad how you wanted to stare at the man for as long as you could. You had wanted it since you first watched him throw Wardreg and had Rowan killed. No one should look that good doing all of that.

"You know your eyes speak enough. No need to hide, I can read you." His gloved hand raised to lower your mug.

"This is good, what is it?" You tried your best to change the topic of conversation with a genuine question.

"A simple Uruk made red wine the last group brought in. Is it that different from what you served here?" He gestured to the tavern that you sat behind and looked at you with a curious look. 

"It's so nice and warm." It brought you comfort so you sipped away at it, the nerves of everything happening today finally leaving you. "So strange, it's so much nicer than ours." 

This time it was Adar changing the topic again. "Shall we go join the others? Surely you'd warm up to my children quicker that way." His offer was a kind one, filled with elven charm he still possesed even after becoming what he was now. 

"I think I prefer the less chaotic energy here, in all honesty. Being able to talk and drink wine, it's nice." 

And it was nice, even Adar agreed. Now that he and his children had a home there was no need for endless planning and strategizing to keep him busy anymore. 

"I admit, you are right. Having a quiet conversation just for the pleasure of it is something I have not done in a long while." He watched you place your mug down, impressed with how quickly you had downed the wine for a mere mortal who claimed not caring about getting drunk. 

You placed the mug down and thanked the wine for silencing the voice in your head as you sat straight up and murmured something. Adar didn't catch what it was, and questioned you about it.

"I said," With a swift move you flung your leg over his lap and straddled him. "There is probably other things that you have not done for pleasure in a very long time." 

Adar followed your quick movements with ease, hus gloved hand ending on your hip. Metal digging into your skin to steady you as his other hand came up to rest at your jaw.

Your actions intrigued him. "You assume right." His gloved hand sqeezed a bit harder, making you squirm in his lap as the sharp edges pressed deeper against your bones. "Now, what did you have in mind now that you have sat yourself so selfishly onto my lap?" He wasn't actively moving you off him so you took your chances to move along, inching closer to his face and pressing a swift peck to his jawline before nuzzling his neck. 

You only got a confused grunt in response, which had you decide to think more as an Uruk, and bite down on his flesh and grind your hips against his. It earned you a low growl and a sharp pull of your hair that disconnected your lips from his throat. 

"You wish to be rough, little mortal?" His gaze changed into an amused grin, taking your hip and shoulder in hand as he manouvered you onto your back, legs still over his as he moved himself atop of you. 

His legs on either side of the fallen structure with your hips pulled up against his, a sharp metal hand pressing into the soft plump of your cheeks prying open your jaw to push a finger past your lips. 

His ungloved hand went to find the ends of your garment and tear it off your lower half, exposing you to the night air while you struggled to move against the iron grasp on your jaw and the metal digging into your tongue.

"How good of you, to wet your master's fingers for him.." His lips barely an inch from your ear, returning the act of biting down on your earlobe with a soft growl and licking the sensitive flesh. 

You mewled as his gloved hand left your face, sharp fingertips dragging down over your clothed torso as he sat back up, untill it reached bare skin. You gasped as he continued south, two fingers moving just off your centre, pulling a soft plea from you. "P.. please, no.."

 He watched in amusement as he pressed the flats of his fingers against your mound, just the leather of his glove on your skin. He drank in the fear that mixed with your arousal, adding to his own fire and exposing you further, leaving your body bare to see for anyone who'd wander past.

You could feel his hard length press against you as he rutted his hips against you, his hands toying with your chest making you moan out in pleasure. 

He groaned in return, moving to undo his trousers and free his cock, wetting it with your slick. 

"It's been long since I have felt this warmth." He breathed out, postitioning his tip at your entrance. You whined with every inch of his length stretching you open, wrapping your legs around his waist as best as you could. The sounds of the Uruks ans men partying drowned out more with each roll of Adar's hips, forcing a moaned breath out of you each time. 

He stilled as he bottomed out, hips slotted with yours in a near perfect matter. Leaning forward on his hands his hair framed his face, lust blown eyes staring deep into yours. There was a slight pant in his breath. "I will keep you." His gloved hand moved to your chest, metal fingers toying with your nipple making you whine out. "Y.. yes Lord Father.." Pain and pleasure mixed in the best way. "You are mine to seek pleasure with howevever I wish." 

Your hands moves to clas at his thighs in an attempt to make him move. "My body belongs to you, Lord Father." 

Your words spurred him on and with a hand on your hip he started moving, cock leaving you almost fully before thrusting back in and setting a steady pace. 

Cries of pleasure filled the ashen air, groans and pleased grunts joining the choir behind the tavern. "L..lord Father.. Adar.." Your voice was barely abouve a whisper. " your hand found his hair, fingers scratching his scalp. "Plant your seed.. Use me to continue your bloodline." 

His thrusts became more harsh, forcing a gasp from you each time his hips came in contact with yours. "Would you.. truly give up your body.. like that?" He panted between breaths, he hadn't bred in Ages, not feeling the need to produce more offspring. The concept of having a family of his own beside his Uruk children was foreign to him. 

"Please.." You pulled him in closer with your heels pressed into his back, moaning as his cock hit just right inside you.

"Make me a mother." 

Adar's hips stilled entirely as he looked down on you, a grin spread wide on his faceas he lifted his gloved hand and brought a fingertip down below your chest hard enough to break skin. You could not see what he did, only feel the carving of flesh obscured by the plump of your breast.

He did not speak, nor try to show you. Instead resumed his rough pace as if nothing had happened.

"You will bear my children, yes? For as long as I please. Until your body is no longer fit to carry offspring." His raspy voice was right at your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin on your neck as he bred you. 

"Ahh..Adar.. hah.." Your moans increased the closer you got to the edge. They were music to Adar's ears.

Not like the animalistic howls and roars of thr Uruks he had gotten so accustomed to. No, your sounds were addicting. 

Your hand found his ungloved one, guiding it between your legs to press two fingers down on your clit, silently begging him to pull you over the edge. On contact you cried out, pleading over and over until the coil snapped and you came, walls clamping down on his cock in extacy.

With no chance to catch your breath your cries turned into begging for rest, a moment to come down but instead Adar kept playing with your clit, fucking into you at the perfect angle that hit every right spot inside of you. The display amused him, filing it all away for if he ever found himself alone and in need of relief.

Before you he panted, chest heaving and mouth hanging open. His tongue rolled out past his smiling lips, a string of drool lowering and disconnecting from the tip of his tongue, dripping down right above your core. His already slick fingers gathered it and spread it all over where his cock disappeared into your folds. 

It reminded you that you weren't producing a child with an elf. You were being bred by an Uruk. 

Adar's growls and sighs got more frequent along with his thrusts becoming less rythmic. He was as close as you were again.

His hinistrations continued, fingers dancing over your sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock stroked thr spot that had you see stars from the inside. 

You threw your head back with one last gut wrenching moan, squeezing your walls around his cock once more and pulling him over the edge with you. With a low growled moan he spilled deep within your womb, stilling to catch his breath.

As he tucked himself back into his trousers he watched your close to unconsious form, eyes closed and breaths evening out.

In your current state you could no longer register the Uruks that had gathered because of the noise, watching their Adar who mated with one of the new women. 

He was unsure how long they had been there or how much they saw, but from the howls and cheers he figured they had seen enough. 

With a glare in their direction, Adar sent away his children and covered your bare skin to the best of his abilities. You needed a new set of clothes. 

With you wrapped in his arms he set off to find a place for you to sleep while he sent others on a hunt for clothes. 

[onehoplessromantic]

B. Bradshaw | Masterlist

Top Gun - Maverick

Updated: 11/1/2024 [link check]

!!authors!! if u want something removed plz pm me 💕 ily

Hi!!! So? This is it! I've been continuously cringing at myself for even making the first search for this the other day but I did. I ended up falling down a rabbit hole full of incredible fics written by some incredible people so I hope you give it a look. No need to judge me, I'm already judging myself T-T.

peace!

PSA: if you want to be kept up to date with the happenings of this list you can sign up for my tag list here so you will be notified when i add fics or chapters and you can choose to keep up with bigger announcements as well

fluff-> 🤍 | smut -> 🍋 | angst -> 🌧️ | major tw -> ‼️

Series

☆ ALTITUDE | @tongue-like-a-razor

13 chapters | on hold | 🌧️🤍

Sydney is not a pilot. But she knows all their tricks. That's why, when she meets the smooth-talking Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, she's not falling for any of them. She's not falling for him, either.

☆ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? | @perpetuallydaydreaming

12 chapters | complete | 🤍🌧️🍋

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw and you have been friends since you can remember, just friends (unfortunately) but when you are called back to Top Gun everything changes...

☆ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | @feralforfrank

3 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍🍋

Rooster and you have never liked each other. One night at the Hard Deck is enough to change the dynamic between you.

☆ IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY | @bloatedandalone04

4 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍🍋

The one where you give Bradley your heart and he breaks it.

☆ FAKING IT | @tongue-like-a-razor

8 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍

Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

☆ AT LEAST I LET THE LIGHT IN | @heartsofminds

1 chapter | on hold (?) | 🌧️‼️

Bradley is on a downward spiral and Natasha doesn't know how much more she can take - unofficial sequel to 'cause no one breaks my heart like you (linked here)

☆ DRUNK IN LOVE / DRUNK IN LOVE | @feralforfrank

2 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍

Rooster brings a drunk!reader to his house. What happens when you wake up in bed with Rooster, your sworn rival?

☆ THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME | @beyondthesefourwalls

13 chapters | complete | 🌧️‼️‼️

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could ever truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him in for a kiss, he thought maybe it was a perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply wanting it.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE read the warnings carefully before reading this story!!

☆ REMEMBER YOU EVEN WHEN I DON'T | @beyondthesefourwalls

10 chapters | complete | 🤍🍋🌧️

A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting right beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement

☆ HOTTER THAN TEXAS | @tongue-like-a-razor

3 chapters | ongoing | 🤍

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Oneshots

☆ BRAD BRAD | @peterparkersnose

wc: 1.9k | 🤍🌧️

teasing, intimidation, situationship coming to a close, ANGST, mentions of death and dealing with death, rooster is in denial of looove, fluff at the end

Rooster gets upset when a harmless joke crosses the line.

☆ "YOU TOLD ME NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THEM" | @katsu28

wc: 1.3k | request | 🌧️🤍

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x aviator!reader, callsign casper (like the ghost hehe), some swearing

Rooster gets upset when pilot hazing goes too far

☆ LOVE IN THE DARK | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 2.8k | 🌧️

swearing, angst, sad boy bradley, lowkey depressed reader, more angst bc im sick and unhappy about it, new theme

The one where the deployments become too much.

☆ WHEN I PICTURE MYSELF HAPPY, I SEE YOU | @feralforfrank

wc: idk loll | prompt | 🌧️🤍

angst with a happy ending, miscommunication trope (?), nondescriptive reader

Rooster and reader fight, but they make up in their own way.

☆ "THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT" | @katsu28

wc: 1.7k | request | 🌧️

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, some swearing, angst

You miss Bradley so much while he's away, in trying to communicate this to him, lines get crossed and emotions rise.

☆ CRUMBLE | @daddy-bradley

wc: idk | 🌧️🤍

angst, cursing, mentions of parental insecurity, depression, anxiety, has a happy ending

You and Bradley are having your first fight after your baby is born. How will you both come to a solution and learn to cope through this together.

☆ 'CAUSE NO ONE BREAKS MY HEART LIKE YOU | @heartsofminds

wc: 19k | 🌧️‼️

heavy angst, miscommunication, heartbreak, right person wrong universe type shit, slow burn angst, disrespect towards women, drinking, bradley is a dick

Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though its hard to see)

☆ MIDNIGHT RAIN | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 3.6k | 🤍🍋🌧️‼️

fluff, smut, angst, oral (f receiving), mentions/descriptions of bad past relationships, mentions of abuse, past abuse, toxic ex, trauma?, bad coping habits, arguments, crying, swearing

The one where Bradley is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, but even he cant fully erase the bad memories of your last relationship.

☆ THINGS UNSEEN AND HEARD | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 4.1k | 🍋🌧️🤍

smut, angst, fluff, obvious bradley insecurities, self-deprecating thoughts, unprotected sex, swearing, alcohol consumption, maybe more

The one where you overhear Bradley talk about you to Jake and decide to give him the space he apparently wanted.

☆ THE STACHE INCIDENT | @feralforfrank

wc: no clue | drabble | 🤍

tooth rotting fluff, its honestly tragic

the title says all you need to know

☆ WHO DID THIS TO YOU? | @feralforfrank

wc: i dunno | 🌧️🤍

accidental injury (reader got hit in the face), crying, nondescript reader

It’s a drabble, I cant say much…

☆ THE ZIPPER INCIDENT | @tongue-like-a-razor

wc: i honestly, truly, don’t know | request | 🌧️🤍

fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut, you stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it’s probably worth it

You’re running late and you need help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

☆ SLEEPYHEAD | @roosterbruiser

wc: *shrugs* | blurb | 🤍

tooth-rotting fluff, sleepy bradley

just read it goddamnit 🥹

☆ PERMANENT STATE OF OBLIVION | @topgun-imagines

wc: 3.2k | request | 🌧️🤍

drinking, arguments, angsty feelings

Despite all the times you have tried to make your feelings for the mustached pilot obvious, he still hasn't caught on. You make things clear one night at the hard deck.

taglist sign up

ⓒ onehopelessromantic, November 2024

[diazsdimples]

Do you have any buddie fic recs that is a /must/ read for Buddie shippers ( sorry I don't ship Bucktommy 🥹)

Boy do I ever!!!

honey, when you call my name - @hippolotamus (Explicit)

"Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons" It's spicy, it's sweet, it's packed full of feels and there was not a dry eye in the house!!

Whatever may come (your heart I will choose) - @hippolotamus (Mature)

"The Story of Eddie and Christopher Diaz" The number of times I yelled at Hippo while reading this,,,, it is incredible!! 30 chapters of Buckley-Diaz family feels, Eddie's heartbreaking backstory and FUCK if I could read it for the first time again, I would!

James Bond AU Series - @princessfbi (Teen & Explicit)

James Bond AU with 007 Agent Eddie Diaz and Buck as Q. Incredible. No notes. Read them back to back in one sitting, and then read them again immediately after. No prior knowledge of James Bond needed (cause I sure didn't have any) but be prepared to have the sudden urge to go watch all the films.

Kink Club AU Series - @princessfbi (Explicit)

"Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01." This series is insanely good. 5 perfect fics of the boys and BDSM, it is incredibly hot, full of feels and just.... yeah. Incredible. Please do read the tags before each fic though, especially if BDSM isn't your thing.

because we'll all arrive in heaven alive - @neverevan (Explicit)

"During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him." I was literally on the edge of my seat with every single chapter release. It's SO angsty and delicious and absolutely incredible, and I think also very feasible for what could happen in canon should Timothy ever decide to be as mean (affectionate) as Newbie was by putting the boys through this.

Out Of Order, Still In Line - @neverevan (Explicit)

"When Buck finally gets to the Clinic, the long awaited release doesn’t seem to come; cue Eddie to the rescue." One of the first Buddie fics I read and it altered my brain chemistry a little. Lord have mercy. It's just ... you gotta read it. Like, Jesus 🥵

My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) - @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Explicit)

"When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies." Honestly I think the blurb says it all. I read this at my cousin's wedding (literally just before the ceremony and during the reception fsdkjdfs) because I literally couldn't put it down. Incredible Greek Gods integration and so. fucking. hot. Sorry Caleb, I hope your matrimony is holy but this was so worth it.

stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong - @daffi-990 (Unrated at present)

"Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?" This AU has been eating me alive with snippets for the last few months and the chapters are FINALLY being published!! Stay tuned for weekly updates about our idiots being - well - idiots. Daffi has written them so well and I don't think I could yell louder about this one if I wanted.

Cow Eyes - @theotherbuckley (General)

"'Eddie's in hospital and Buck tries not to break down' fic except its actually just a cute silly little fic" Exactly what is says on the tin. Cute, silly, fluffy and entirely adorable. High!Eddie is fucking hilarious and Worried!Buck has my whole ass heart. Love this fic, have read it many times, will read many times more

Both Blade and Branch - @cal-daisies-and-briars (Mature)

"The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back." Orpheus and Eurydice vibes but somehow more heartbreaking because it's the Boys? Literally every chapter I was gobsmacked and the fact that I couldn't read it in one sitting due to Life™️ was frankly criminal.

what humans do - @gayhoediaz

""…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp. " One of the best getting together fics I've read. So sweet, so hot, full of feels, and also just very 🤯 in many places. Just insanely well written and perfect imagery.

Also I have a small list of authors whom I love dearly:

@spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @thekristen999

@steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @rainbow-nerdss @bidisasterevankinard

@aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @kitteneddiediaz

@actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13

@smilingbuckley

Literally anything these wonderful people (and the authors of the above fics) have written is well worth a read. I would rec all of their words and make individual recs for all their fics but I fear I simply do not have the words.

I might also humbly suggest some of my fics, which you can find here! Happy reading!!!

[charliehoennam]

karma's kiss

a/n: @harmonity-vibes requested a smutty lil fic with anthony because he is foooooine so here it is

Pairing: Anthony Saint Claire x F!Reader

Summary: Anthony finds himself swindled by a con-artist and tracks her down to get his own justice.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark themes like rough sex, asphyxiation, stealing, dub-con, smut (let's remember anthony is not a nice guy like our sweet little adorable professor so read at your own risk)

SHARING IS CARING SO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

The bar you’re in is far different compared to the dive bars you started in your early years.

Your job isn't the kind you include in resumés, but it's paid your bills since college and you've managed to work your way up to a more high-end clientele.

Sitting at the bar, you can feel eyes boring into your side as you sip your daiquiri.

You smile at the bearded man, waiting to see if he'll approach you first. And, indeed, he does taking your smile as an invitation.

"Staring isn't very polite, you know" you smirk setting your drink on the bar as he sits next to you.

"Well, can you blame me? A beautiful woman like you in a dress like that is bound to get some attention, right?" he smiles slyly.

You smile pretending to be flattered by his compliment. It's nothing you haven't already heard before. It might be just bait that he tells all the girls he meets to get what he wants out of them, but you have to admit it feels a little nice coming from someone as attractive as he is.

In order to hide your real name and identity, you give him a fake name as you hold your hand out to shake his.

"Anthony," he smirks shaking your hand lightly before lifting his whisky for a sip. "Are you here with your husband?"

He glances down at the fake wedding ring and band on your finger. There is no husband. You just wear the rings because you've found it makes you more intriguing to most men.

You never really understood why, but if you had to guess, you'd guess it must have something to do with the chauvinistic idea of conquering something that's not theirs or that belongs to another man.

It doesn't exactly surprise to see a gold band on his finger too.,

"Are you here with your wife?" you retort.

"Touché," he smirks raising his glass to your witty observation.

"I'm not here with my husband, but he does know I'm here."

"Your husband lets you go out alone dressed like that?"

"We have an open relationship."

Anthony's smile stretches from ear to ear. Attending underground sex clubs, he's no strangers to forbidden kinks. They arouse him. Your beauty attracted him, but now, you have his full attention.

"That's interesting. You don't hear that every day," he smirks. "Tell me more about this relationship. I'm intrigued."

"Well, once a week, he allows me to go out on my own. I like getting to meet new people and he likes watching me get fucked by other men."

Your bluntness has his cheeks turning pink as he beams with amazement.

"So it's a kink?"

"I prefer the term alternative modern lifestyle," you smile mischievously at him. "Keeps the marriage spicy."

"I can imagine. And how's it work huh?"

"I go out, find a very attractive man," you explain glancing at his lips and making no effort to hide it. "We talk, drink, kiss and I take him home to fuck me in front of my husband."

"Seems simple enough" he smirks catching your glance at his lips. "How do you choose the man?"

"Consent is the most important factor, of course. If he's not alright with that, then everything stops. But I tend to gravitate towards those that are more pleasing to the eye."

"And are there candidates yet?"

"The night is still young. This is still my first drink and I'm already interviewing one," you reply with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, my. I am very flattered," he chuckles pretending to be surprised. "I'm very interested. Although I've never done anything like this before."

"You'd be surprised at how many have."

"I'm guessing a lot?"

"More than you think. Open relationships are becoming more and more common and accepted nowadays."

It hardly takes him any further convincing. You can tell by the way his legs and hips squirm in his seat he's turned on by the sole thought of it.

Moving to a more private table, you sit in the corner of the high-end bar sharing details about what you and your husband enjoy.

Anthony is up for anything. Just the thrill of fucking you in front of your husband already his dick leaking with anticipation.

The hardness in his pants is noticeable when you place your palm on his crotch after he tells you how big he is when you ask about his size.

Granted he is perfectly sized and thick, it doesn't change any of the plans you have for him.

You invite him to come back to the motel you're staying at under the guise you and your husband always go out of town for your escapades to avoid running into people you might work who wouldn't understand your lifestyle.

A sexual deviant himself, he knows just how well it is to have to hide your sexual fantasies and desires from others.

In the backseat of a taxi on the way to the motel, his lips are all over yours mauling yours as his head tilts to the side. His tongue wrestles for dominance between you. The thumb on the hand on your neck strokes your cheek.

His touch warms you from the inside. You can't let yourself give in, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy it while you can.

You have to focus. This is our opportunity to get what you need.

Your hand glides down his chest under his leather jacket towards his crotch. With a firm unexpected squeeze to his cock, he moans into your mouth.

The driver can't help but glance at the rearview mirror, torn between stopping you from getting too heated and letting you go on to enjoy the show.

You palm Anthony's cock over his jeans. You have to admit, the man does have a nice size that makes your panties wet.

Reveling in your touch, his knees spread to invite you in as his torso adjusts to face the front.

"You like that, huh?"

"Can't wait to get my mouth around it."

"Why wait?" He smirks darkly.

Taking a glimpse at the driver, he immediately looks away and back to the road when your eyes meet his in the mirror.

You smirk back at Anthony as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock out.

Lowering into the darkness of the backseat, you lean down to take it into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around his tip to lap at his precum.

Anthony closes his eyes as his head dips backwards at the welcomed warmth of your mouth. With one arm stretched along the backseat, he uses the other to rest his hand against your bobbing head.

Too lost in the sensation, he doesn't notice or feel your hand sneaking into his pocket to steal his wallet.

The thrill of accomplishing your mission excites you enough to add a little more enthusiasm into the blowjob until the driver clears his throat to get your attention as the car rolls to a stop.

"We're here. That'll be 8.50."

"I got it" you say quickly to stop Anthony from looking for his wallet.

Taking a 10-dollar bill from your bra while Anthony tucks himself away, you hand the money to the driver and thank him telling him to keep the change.

Climbing out of the cab, you lead him to your room fumbling for your room key.

Anthony follows you inside and takes a look around. The room is nothing fancy as expected but it has a double bed which is all you need. Or so he thinks.

"My husband is on his way. He'll be here soon. Why don't you get comfortable while I freshen up real quick? I'll be just a minute."

You smirk sliding your hands up his chest to gently push at his black leather jacket.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he smirks down at you with lustful eyes.

As he shrugs off his jacket, you walk to the bathroom. While he takes his shoes off, you quickly race to the back wall of the bathroom to open the high shower window. You pop off the bug screen and let it fall to the ground. The collision makes an echoing noise and catches Anthony’s attention.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself.

Using the ledge of the dingy tub, you pull yourself up into the window and see-saw on the sill. You planned the escape; should’ve also planned the landing of it.

Your heart races when Anthony knocks on the locked door.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything ok in there?” he questions growing suspicious.

Your legs flail in the air, knocking the shower rod and one of your high heels down. The clattering encourages him to throw his shoulder against the door to bust it open. Pushing yourself forward, you hold your arms out to soften the drop to the ground outside just as Anthony is able to break inside, catching a quick glimpse your feet just before they slip out of view.

“Hey! The fuck are you going?!” Anthony shouts bewildered as he pats his pockets for his phone and realizes his wallet is gone so he darts to the window, standing on his toes to pop his head outside.

It dawns on him that this is a set-up. Everything you told him was merely a lie to get him alone. And now he’s stuck in a run-down motel with no way to chase after you.

“Hey! Get back here, you little fucking thief!”

Giggling to yourself with his wallet in hand, you quickly limp toward the car you’d left in the alleyway behind the motel specifically for your get-away.

He tries to climb out through the window and, although he’s much better at it than you, you’re already speeding down the alleyway and onto the road when he stands up. He tries to run after you, but he knows his feet are no match to your car.

“Fuck!” he shouts angrily as he pants.

Standing in the alleyway, he quickly whips out the cellphone you thankfully managed to leave behind and types in the digits of your license plate in his digital notes before he can forget them.

Once they’re saved, he goes through his list of contacts which – unfortunately for you – is rather long and full of assorted figures. Some, which thanks to his night job in an underground sex club, happen to be people in powerful positions. Judges, lawyers, law enforcement. You name the job and he’s guaranteed to have someone of the area in his pocket.

Cashing in a favor with a sketchy local sergeant of the police department, Anthony asks him to notify him as soon as they get a hit on your plate. The sergeant doesn’t ask any questions. Anthony wouldn’t answer him with anything other than a threat of blackmail if he didn’t, but the less he knows, the better.

It takes a few days, but Anthony eventually gets a call informing of the car’s whereabouts and original owner. He’s not surprised to know it’s not you.

Assuming you live practically on the run, moving from motel to motel, he knows he has to act fact but still cautiously. There’s still quite a bit that he doesn’t know about you like if you work with any other parties or if you impose any danger. And if so, what level of danger could it be?

With a recently purchased gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he sets his helmet on and speeds off to the illegally given address. He lurks from a distance and waits until you finally leave the room.

He keeps his distance from you, but decided to stalk you as you go about your day, buying groceries and clothes with his money. There wasn’t much pocket money, but you were able to clone his cards and identity to cash up a couple thousand.

He could’ve stopped you and cancelled all his cards, filed an official report. But you’ve would known and been caught before he’s had the chance to make you pay. And a couple thousands aren’t going to cause a lot of financial troubles for him, thanks to his fairly wealthy income from the night job.

As you go about your day, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is onto you. You keep looking over your shoulder, but there’s no one there. No one that you notice, at least. But then again, you always get this feeling after a theft.

You head back to the motel where you’d left your car. After a theft gone right, you always opt to get around on foot with the most important things in your bag at the slightest sight of a cop. That way, if anyone is onto you, it could provide you some time to get away.

Assuring the motel is safe, you head to the room you’d paid to stay at for the night and unlock the door. But just as you open the door, you instantly feel cold metal press against the side of your head. Your groceries drop and scatter on the ground as you hold your hands up.

“Don’t get smart again. I found you once and I can find you again.”

You can’t see the face of the figure, but you can tell it’s a man and you’re almost certain who he is.

“Close the door and step away from it.”

You don’t have much of an option. Run away and he’ll find you again. Or worse, shoot you down in the parking lot of this crappy motel and that’s not how you want to die.

With your hands carefully raised, you slowly close the door with your foot and walk deeper into the room just as ordered. You keep your back turned to him as he locks the door and face him only after he says you can.

The newfound power intoxicates him. It swells him with an authority that he's never felt before. You, on the other hand, are filled with fear. You try to play it cool to avoid letting him know that you're actually scared.

With your hands carefully raised, you slowly close the door with your foot and walk deeper into the room just as ordered. You keep your back turned to him as he locks the door and face him only after he says you can.

"I want my money and my documents back."

"I can give your documents back and all the copies I've made. But the money is already gone. I already spent it."

"Well, it seems like we got a bit of a predicament here, doesn't it?"

"I can pay you back, but it's gonna take some time."

"I don't have time," he lies. "I want it back now."

"I don't have any money now. Why do you think I do this?" You sigh. "Look, what if... I paid you back some other way?"

"What other way?"

You lower your hand to unbutton your white shirt and reveal your lacy bra.

"This is what you wanted in the first place, isn't it?"

His eyes lower from your face down to your chest. He stays silent, considering your offer but his gun stays aimed at you. 

"It was..  it still is."

"So why don't you put that away and take what you want?"

A sly smirk grows on his lips. His eyes darken with a sudden and familiar lust that revisits his being.

"I'm gonna keep this, just in case." He stated walking over to sit on the bed, manspreading his legs as he keeps the gun pointed at you.

"C'mere. On your knees."

Glancing at the weapon, you take slow steps to approach him and kneel between his knees.

"You know what to do. You did it so well before. Don't be shy now." 

You nod and raise your shaky hands to unbutton his jeans, pulling down his zipper.

Feeling the end of the barrel rest against the side of your head, you carefully release his dick from it's confine. It's not quite hard as before, but its getting there with you under his will.

You hold his dick up to take him into your mouth, lathering his member with your spit.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart."

His order is your command which you obey. You don't know what he's capable of and you don't want to find out.

Looking up at him, he relishes in the contrast of your teary eyes and dirty mouth full of his dick. He takes his free hand and threads his fingers into your hair, holding it back to keep it away from distracting you. How thoughtful, you think sarcastically.

Anthony's moans and groans fill the room as he breathes heavily, cock twitching with every bob of your head.

The grip on your hair tightens with every twitch. After forcing himself to the back of your throat, you buy yourself sometime to breath by licking up the backside of his heavy cock and swirling your tongue around his dome, putting your saliva pool against your plush lips.

"Fucking Christ" he groans deeply as he watches your mouth working its wonders, his angry cock throbbing with desire.

"Take them off" he orders nodding at your clothes.

Obeying his command, you slowly stand between his knees and unbutton your pants. He tisks as you move too fast.

“Slow… and turn around for me.”

You turn your back to him and slowly push your pants down, gliding your palms over your cheeks as you undress just to tease him a little. You figure you might as well enjoy it.

He smirks at the sight of your matching panties and admires how they perfectly hug your curves. As you bend forward to push your pants down to your ankles, he takes advantage of your position and trails the edge of his gun down the split of your cheeks.

Your body tenses at the touch of cold metal. You remind yourself to take calming breaths to keep yourself together.

“Nice fucking ass you got here, sweetheart,” he simpers, poking the barrel at your clothed cunt from behind. “Bet you got a cute pussy too…. Show me it.”

You gulp and lift your trembling hands to slide your panties down to reveal yourself to him. Although Anthony is undoubtedly attracted, you don’t trust him. The fact that your life is essentially in his hands is still in your mind. You comply to his orders, but you pray that he doesn’t hurt you too much. Not enough to be fatal at least.

“Atta girl.” He says removing the gun from between your legs. You quietly sigh in relief.

“Now come on over here.” Anthony stands behind you and presses the gun into your side.

“On the bed. Face down.”

Accepting your fate, you climb onto the mattress and lay on your front. Out of your view, you hear the jostling of his belt as he removes it with one hand and climbs on top of your legs to lock you in place. Setting the gun beside his foot, he takes the belt and tightens the leather tightly around your wrists.

You wince as the leather pinches your skin, but he doesn’t seem to care if it hurts you. You can feel his emotionless eyes on you, so you turn your head to the side to avoid look at him.

He climbs off of you and the bed, but he stays close. You try to zone out as you listen to him undress.

Walking around the bed now completely naked, he kneels down to pet your hair and wipes a tear from your cheek.

“Listen, sweetheart. I’m sorry for the scare. I’m not gonna kill you, alright? I’m not a monster.”

You nod looking up at him confused.

“I’m just gonna fuck you. Really, really hard. I think I deserve to get my money’s worth, right? Even you gotta agree with me on that.”

His words don’t exactly ease you, but the promise that he won’t shoot you dead is enough. After all, he doesn’t have to. It’s not like you can simply go to the cops to report him anyways.

“Ok,” you agree. “C-can you just please put the gun away?”

“I can do that. But don’t get smart. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He walks back around the bed and takes his gun to set it on the nightstand. You feel like you can finally breathe after what seemed like hours holding your breath.

You feel his weight on the mattress as it dips beside you again. He pulls you up by your arms and stands you on your knees.

“I want you to do something for me first. Sit on my face. Can you do that?”

You’re almost surprised by his request and the contact on your wrists as he unbuckles the belt, letting your wrists go just to bind them again but in front of you this time. He wants to…. pleasure you?

“I’ll make you cum if you’re a good girl.”

Once he’s on his back on the bed, you straddle his head carefully and lower your hips down to meet with his hungry mouth. With your ass spread by his hands, you lean forward to place your hands on his taut abs for balance.

You can’t hold back the moan you release as he licks a long-wet stripe from your hardening clit to your puckered ring of muscle. The hands that keep your cheeks apart squeezes into your flesh when his tongue begins its work on your pussy.

Anthony just can’t enough of you. Your taste is wonderfully delicious to him that he just has to fuck you with his tongue. And the position allows him to flick at your sensitive nub, making your walls slick.

“Jesus, fuck!” you gasp as he toys with your clit bringing you closer and closer to the brink. You’re so turned on although you feel like you shouldn’t be. He held you at gunpoint. This is wrong. So wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

His beard heightens the sensitivity between your legs as his nose pokes at your asshole. He pulls your hips down against his face harder, restricting himself of air.

“T-That feels so good!” you whine with tears prickling at your eyes feeling the pleasure snaps in waves throughout your body.

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you find yourself leaning forward to wrap your mouth around his cock again. The burning heat that bubbles from your core provoking yet another orgasm has you so hot for him that you need to suck him off.

He chuckles surprised by your sudden urge as he lifts your hips up to hiss out in pleasure. It doesn’t take him long to start thrusting his hips violently up, shoving his cock down your throat. He stops suddenly and pushes you off him, feeling himself close.

Shoving you onto your back, he spreads your legs and eagers aligns his dick with your hole before pushing himself into your wetness.

His hips relentlessly thrust against yours as he pounds you raw. The sounds of your wet cunt squelching around him make your cheeks warm as you realize how wet you really are for him.

The lecherous stare down at your body proves he’s getting closer. He pants as he watches your breast bouncing free from your bra. Eager to feel them, he stills and tear the bra in half to expose you completely.

He growls dipping his head to grope and maul at your breasts. Your skin burns with his prickly beard and rough teething kisses.

With one hand squeezing your breast, the other sneaks around your neck. He squeezes your neck and throat, choking you as he restricts your oxygen. His hips drill you into the mattress as you watch him, slowly losing your conscious.

Anthony looks like he’s been possessed by something else and it scares you a bit. You claw at his wrists as you feel the pressure in your head weighing heavy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head from the combination of pleasure and pain.

You gasp for air as he finally releases your neck and fills you with his heavy load, spilling into your pussy in hot ropes.

He pants as he eases his cock out and into you again, admiring how his cum trickles out from your hole and coats his cock.

“We’re gonna have a very long night.”

“Night?” you question. Could you even last a night with him?

“I told you. I want my money’s worth.”

[lucysarah-c]

Do you think that Canon Levi (While he is in the scouts, not post-war) would want a serious relationship or even a family? I love reading fanfictions about him falling in love with someone who is also on the scouts and even having a wife or kids, but he canonically is not a huge fan of marriages and Idk, maybe he doesn't like the idea of putting children in such a dangerous world, you know what I mean? What's your opinion? 

Hi, sweetheart! How are you? Ah, first of all, thank you for stopping by my inbox and asking for my opinion. I always get a little giggly when people ask for my thoughts on anything haha. I promise to do my best to reply to everything to the best of my abilities!

I agree with you to a certain degree, especially since you mentioned not "post-war Levi." I think post-war Levi is a completely different story, you know? This man sat down with two kids to tell them about his childhood and mother. Let's remember that Hange didn't even know about Kenny's existence during the Uprising Arc, which leads me to think that Levi didn't speak to anyone about his past before. Now he does? I mean, yes, it's a literary device—using characters completely alien to the idea to present a first-person POV of the character telling their past. I've used it myself in my main fic. But let's say that's not the case, and Levi is opening up like never before. He seems to be redoing his life and living happily after the war. I wouldn't be surprised if he decides to pursue a partner and kids for himself (if he wants, as kids and romantic relationships aren't necessary for happiness).

But Canon Scout Levi? Let me tell you, first of all, I don't think Levi really "believes" in marriage per se. I think he would treat his girlfriend as if she were his wife; he doesn't think of marriage much beyond "a tradition." Now, I do see him getting married if it would enhance the life or rights of his girlfriend. What do I mean by this? Let's say there's "social judgment" if his girlfriend is publicly in a relationship with him and "being with a man outside of wedlock" causes her social scrutiny—he may marry her. He knows firsthand how women are judged based on their "status" by his mother, so if he can step up and do the right thing, he will. For example, if he were to die and his partner couldn't land jobs because people judge that she's unmarried at her age, he would marry her. Or if she could get a pension from being married to a soldier, and every coin counts, Levi wouldn't mind it. That's what I personally think. Levi knows he won't be the one getting the sour end from not making it official, so he sees it as beneficial to make it legally official.

Then about kids, I don't see Levi "seeking" kids while he's in the Scouts. It's rather clear that Levi likes kids across the story, but he probably wants to give his kids the childhood he didn't have. And yeah, "kids only need someone who loves them, etc.," but the truth is kids need time, dedication, and MONEY. Three things that Scout Levi doesn't have lmao. So I don't see him canonically "seeking to become a dad." If there's contraception in Paradis, he's for sure using it. If there isn't, or accidents happen, and his girlfriend ends up pregnant, he would probably state that it's not the best timing for kids (especially if she's a Scout, as I doubt a woman would be allowed to be a soldier and also raise a kid. She would lose her job and stay behind to be a mother, which was usually the case back in the day). But if she decides to carry on, Levi, being an adult doing adult stuff, will take responsibility and be the best father he can given the circumstances.

Finally, about relationships… I'm a firm believer that you don't truly choose to fall in love or not haha. Like when it happens, it happens, like the cat distribution system lol. Once it knocks at your door, it's your time. Once again, I don't picture Levi going out of his way "searching" for romance. But if he slowly gets to know someone and likes them, and that person likes him back, then well… I don't know. Now that I'm rereading the manga, I'm more sure about this. Levi hardly seems "unapproachable," like "I'm so hurt, I don't want to let anyone in." On the contrary, you see he has good relationships with almost all the Scouts, even telling Nifa about Kenny out of nowhere. He's not one to fall easily, but if it happens, it happens.

I hope this was a good enough answer <3 Thank you so much for your ask.

Have a lovely day!

Stay safe!

[selfloverrrrrr]

Can I request a non-con fic with a character,.where he is your uncles business partners son . he saw you at a party your uncle held and instantly fell in love with you .so he started stalking you and found out where you live and what you like or dislike your daily routine , everything. Then he sent you a marriage proposal which you rejected. He was angry about it but he had a plan. Your uncles son (your cousin) was getting married. His family was invited . At the wedding after a few hours you went to the bathroom to check your makeup , after you were done you were walking down the hall way, out of nowhere character appeared and started dragging you to his hotel room you thrashing around but he slapped you multiple times while ranting about how he is very mad and sad that you rejected him till you fainted when you wake up you're tied up on the bed in the hotel and he's staring at you. Then he gets up from his chair and slowly approaches you .| you can choose any character you want🧚‍♀️✨💫 .I really love reading the fanfictions you write they always make my day💫 ❤

Awwww thank you so much 😭💗... take my love and keep giving me requests like this... I loved this request 😭💗

Rejecting Me?!

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Gojo's POV

I was at my dad's business partner's party. There I saw her first. Y/n. That's what she said her name is. She said it was her uncle's party. So that means my father's business partner is her uncle. Godddd she's so fucking gorgeous! How could I not fall in love with her.

She was wearing mini red partywear. She's the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen! I'll marry her... she'll be mine...right? The way she talked with me. Introduce herself. Said her name. I love everything about her. I wish I didn't have to leave that party and can see her all I want.

But after that day it didn't stop about liking.... I became obsessed. How couldn't I? She's the first girl who made me fall in love. I slowly started getting information about her by stalking her. Where she leaves, what she does, what she likes, what's her favourite flower, what she likes to do and what not... everything!

One month passed. I got enough information about her. I sent her a marriage proposal today. I know she'll accept it. Of course she will! I'm a rich handsome man...why won't she accept?

My brain was covered with her thoughts. She'll accept my proposal, then we'll get married, she'll be mine, I'll have her... fuck I can have her, I will fuck her until she can't think about anything else! I smirked at myself.

One day passed. My assistant came back from her house. "What did she say?" I asked. "Sir..... she....she said no" he replied. "What!" I exclaimed. "Yes sir...she said no...she doesn't want to get married" he replied. I clenched my jaw and my fist. How dare she? How fucking dare she didn't accept it? What does she think she's doing?! My mind was racing with anger.

Two weeks later I got an invitation for a wedding. When I saw whose wedding it was, a smirk played on my lips. It was the wedding of y/n's cousin. My dad's business partner's son. That's interesting. I can have my way I see.

The wedding ceremony day

Y/n's POV

Today is my cousin's wedding. I was so happy for him. I got ready for the marriage. I wore a long blue dress. They booked a hotel for the marriage and guests wouldn't stay at that hotel for the night. That hotel was so gorgeous. I arrived there.

We were walking and talking with people there. Our relatives called for all relatives to go to the wedding room and the couples were about to get married. I went there. Entering the room I first saw Gojo Satoru.

Fuck! This is so awkward! I looked away. He was staring at me. The marriage ceremony starts and ends as well. We all give congratulations to the newly married couples. Time passed. I asked my cousin where the ladies bathroom is. He said it's on the second floor.

I went to the second floor and went to the bathroom to do my touch ups. After the touch up I fixed my hair and dress. Then I went out of the bathroom. I was walking through the hallway when I bumped into someone. When I looked up it was Gojo. Fuck! Not again!

"what are you doing here?" He asked. "I was in the bathroom...why are you here? It's the ladies bathroom in this direction" I said. He took out a key from his pocket. "Can you see it?" He said and put it in the keyhole of the door right next to us. He unlocked the door. "It's my room" he said.

"ohh... it's okay...do your thing, bye" I said. I started walking but he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him. "Bye? We just started talking... We haven't talked about that MARRIAGE PROPOSAL yet" he said tilting his head. Oh no no no... this is getting more awkward.

"Gojo please... can we just not-" he didn't let me finish my sentence and started speaking. "Why not?... come inside" he said. "Gojo I don't think we-" before I could finish "come inside" he said and dragged me inside with him.

I stared at him. I really don't know what to say. "Hmm so?" He said and started walking towards me. "Why did you reject?" He asked. "Actually...I .... I don't think I wanna get married right now" I said. He pulled me towards him and hugged me by my waist.

I gasped. "You think I'm not enough for you huh?" He said. "You think you deserve better than me? Hear me you can't fucking find a single guy better than me!" He said with grinded teeth. "I-It's not like that" I said. "I can throw how much money you want" he said and pushed me. I didn't realise the bed was behind me and I fell on the bed.

"Gojo what are you doing!" I said. "Tell me how much money you want, whore!" He said. "I don't want you or your fucking money! Just leave me alone!" I said and was about to go he grabbed my hair and pulled me on the bed again. I cried out of the pain. "Did I say you can go?" He said with grinded teeth and got on me.

I stared at him with teary eyes. "How fucking dare you, you rejected my proposal?! Who the fuck do you think you are?" He said and slapped me. "Bitch, I've to show you some manners I see" he said and pulled down the straps of my dress. "G-gojo... w-what... stop " I cried.

He looked at me and slapped me again. "I. Said. Shut. Your. Damn. Mouth. Up" he warned. Then he totally took off my dress. Tears came down from my eyes. He smirked at me. "I knew you have a fucking gorgeous body too" he said and pressed his lips on mine.His kiss was so rough. He started undoing my bra. I tried to protest and scream but that didn't work .

He grabbed my boob and squeezed it and I screamed in the kiss. Hearing my Gojo broke the kiss and crashed his mouth on my breast. I moaned out loudly. "Waited enough for you" he spoke "not anymore". He started sucking on my breast roughly. The more I moan the more he sucks and  squeezes on my breasts." please stop... I'm beginning you please stop..." I begged. But he didn't stop.

After a while he let go of my breast. I was breathing heavily. He started undressing himself. He took off his shirt and pants. He was now only wearing his boxers. I can see the outline of his bulge through his boxers and there was a wet spot where the tip of his dick touched his boxer. Fear grabbed me by my neck.

His hand reached for my pantie and he ripped it off. He looked at my pussy with lustful eyes. He parted my pussy lips with his fingers and crashed his mouth on it, sucking on it roughly. I moaned so loudly. I tried to push him away by pulling his hair but nothing nothing nothing. He just continued his work. He pulled back and lined himself with me."please please please no no no" I cried. "Shhh.... don't be scared...... You're mine after all " he whispered and slammed his whole length in one slide without any warning."ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" I screamed."oh my fucking god god god god god god......ahhh" he moaned out feeling my warm wet walls around him.

He didn't give me time to adjust his size. "Stoooopppp please stop!!! Please pull out it's hurting too much" I cried and begged. But he didn't listen. His thrust became harder and harder. I was an moaning and crying mess."you are so fucking...ahhh .... tight" he moaned out. I was screaming, begging for help, begging him to stop...but nah.... nothing changed.

The more I scream the more his thrusting becomes harder.With a few more thrust I came. "You can't resist me anymore if I fuck you hard anddd...cum inside you...or else what your family gonna think huh?" He said with a smirk. "No!!! Please no!" I screamed but as if he's gonna listen to me. I grabbed the bedsheet behind me tightly . Feeling my warm wall clenching around him he came within a minute. I already fainted.

"Sleep well princess... I'll tell everyone you're sleeping in my room... and will tell them we're in a relationship... Nobody will suspect... And you won't dare to do anything else... you'll be fucking tied with me,princess" he whispered with a chuckle.

Give me your requests guys...

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Prove Your Worth to Me (Brat-tamer!CEO!Nanami x Bratty!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“If you wish to leave, you can, but if you stay, you need to prove to me your worth. I’m not a man who gives things out so easily.” 

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you apply for a sectorial job, but the interview process is a lot more intense than you bargained for. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Dom!Nanami; sub!Reader; Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Dubcon; Coercion; Brat-taming; Mild BDSM; Bondage; Degradation & Praise; Semi-Clothed Sex; Deepthroating; Hair-Pulling; Spitting; Mutual Oral; Doggystyle Over the Desk; Nanami Talks on the Phone While He F*cks You; Edge Play; Namecalling; Unprotected Creampie; Facial; PLOT TWIST

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: This is how I'm coping. Rest in peace, Kento. You were the best man & the best baby daddy ever. Imma come & help you build that house on the beach -Jazz

********

You sit in the waiting room in the pristine office, your fingers clutching your bag to stop your hands from shaking. 

You're so nervous. Job interviews always seem to do damage to your nerves and confidence, even though you’ve done them many, many times before. 

‘This is no different,’ you think to yourself, practicing the mantra you’ve had in your head for a week preparing for this interview. ‘It’s just an interview. He’s just a person. You are confident, intelligent, and a boss ass bitch, whether you get this job or not.’ 

But fuck, you hope you get it. It’s a really good position: a secretarial/assistant position for Kento Nanami, the CEO of Nanami Enterprises which specializes in human resources, charitable work, and citywide issues. Mr. Nanami is well-known throughout Japan as an entrepreneur and a very generous man, rich in intelligence and skills as well as money.

Seriously, the man is loaded. He is in every magazine, including Forbes, and has traveled all across the world closing business deals. 

He is also extremely handsome. You’ve seen his face many times in the media with his sharp jaw, intense eyes, and neatly-cut blonde hair. You’ve heard he is taller in person (and bigger at that). You’ve seen him at press conferences and dinner parties, photographed in his expensive suits or even coming off of a private jet in his sunglasses, a permanent, stoic expression on his face. You’ve wondered many times what he looks like out of his designer clothes as any woman would to an attractive man. 

But now that you’re about to meet him, all of this hits you much differently. Now that you’re sitting here in his pristine waiting room with its coffee machines and packaged snacks for clients and hearing the buzz of work activity–phones ringing; heels clicking across the floor, etc.–makes your heart scatter in your chest. Your palms sweat so frequently that you have to wipe them off on your pencil skirt every five minutes. You don’t know if you can handle any of this. 

And you hate feeling this way. You know how good you are with job interviews. Every one you’ve sat for after applying, you’ve received. You take pride in the way you’re perceived, especially when it comes to appearance. Though your interview is at 10am today, you woke up at damn near the ass crack of dawn and primped yourself. You ironed your outfit, choosing a cream-colored blouse that you tucked into your pencil skirt, nylon stockings, and heels. You curled your hair. You spritzed on sweet-smelling perfume. You even planned your makeup look several days beforehand which has been executed well. 

You look good…but you don't feel good. How are you possibly supposed to nail this interview if you can’t even stop your hands from shaking? “Stop it,” you hiss to yourself, glad that you’re the only one in the waiting room. “You will get this job. You deserve this job.” 

And it sounds like a good job position. Like, one that any person would strive to possess in this materialistic world where capitalism rules the earth. You found it on Glassdoor and as soon as you read the description and qualifications (a college degree, certain skills, attitude, etc.), you applied.

As a secretary working here, you would be working closely with Nanami as his personal assistant to help him take care of his work and anything he doesn’t have a chance to get to, such as scheduling appointments and meetings for him, and attending them in some cases, making and taking calls, and other office and secretarial work. The pay is much better than your current job that you desperately want to leave.

You’re tired of working underneath an asshole who only cares about his money and could give less of a shit about his employees or their issues. 

Were you expecting Maki, one of Nanami’s assistants, to reach out to you? Definitely not. But here you are, sitting primped, polished, and positively terrified two weeks later after receiving that joyous email for an interview. You just hope you can hold onto your wits and– 

“Ms. L/N?” You startle at the sound of your last name and look up into the eyes of Maki from behind her glasses. She stands at the threshold of the waiting room in a black turtleneck and slacks that hug her toned frame. You can already tell she has every man in here simping for her. “Mr. Nanami is ready for you now,” she says. Though she doesn’t smile, her tone is warm. “I have to deliver something, so one of his other assistants will walk you to his office.” 

“T-Thank you,” you say, cringing slightly at your stutter. If Maki notices, she doesn’t act as if she does and doesn’t mention it. She leads you halfway across the hallway to introduce you to Mai, a shorter version of Maki with no glasses, short hair, and wearing a low-cut red blouse that probably would drive any guy crazy. “Gosh, you are gorgeous!” She gushes as soon as she sees you. “And your hair looks fabulous. You’d definitely turn heads here.” 

You smile bashfully while Maki rolls her eyes. “Can you please just take her to Nanami’s office for her interview?” she sighs. “You know he hates lateness.” She gives you a nod then, her eyes kind despite how intense they seem. “Good luck, Ms. L/N,” she says before heading off to do her work, her hips swaying in her slacks. 

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Mai giggles as she presses a button to one of the elevators next to you. “That’s my sister. She’s always that sweet and bubbly.” She gives you a wink. You giggle to yourself, deciding you like both of them and you wonder what the rest of the team here is like. 

Mai presses the elevator button to the upper floor and leads you inside the damning doors that automatically shut once you are both inside. Silence swells around the tiny box and you can hear your heart pumping madly in your head. You see Mai look at you out of your peripheral version. “Nervous?” she asks. You give her a sheepish smile. “Does it show?” you chuckle. 

“He really isn’t a tough guy,” Mai says, contrary to what you think. “He just likes everything to be perfect and detailed, right down to the T. Judging by your resume, I think you’re fit for the job!” She gives you a bright, comforting smile that is impossible to ignore or not feel. You thank her for the compliment, feeling somewhat better. One the elevator doors open on the floor, she walks you down the pristine hallway with marble walls and grey carpeting until you come to two oak double doors. 

Mai smiles at you despite you wanting to book it. “Right this way,” she says, motioning to the door. “This is his office right here.” She knocks for you three times, loud and clear. “Come in,” a deep, clear voice calls out. It sends shivers down your spine. Maki opens the door then and it’s like the gates of Hell opening for you. 

You are met with a gorgeous, spacious office that is fit for a CEO. On one side is a lounging space with a flat-screened TV, black leathered seats, and a bookcase filled with books of all genres and kinds. On the other is a kitchenette with all stainless steel appliances, including a fridge, freezer, microwave, dishwasher and dryer, and a mini bar where a bottle of scotch and a wine rack sit. In the middle sits a wide, polished, oak desk with a large glass window overlooking the city where a man sits behind his laptop and a mug of coffee. 

A very handsome man at that. His jaw is sharp, his face slim, not a stitch of facial hair anywhere on his face. His blonde hair is combed and styled perfectly almost if he purposely styled each strand. When he looks up, you’re taken aback by not only his looks but the aura he gives off. It is powerful and intimidating despite his calm and cool demeanor. It’s only intensified by the gray suit jacket he wears over a crisp blue button-up shirt that he’s paired with matching slacks, red bottom shoes, and a yellow, leopard-printed tie. You nearly giggle at the way the tie stands out against the rest of his outfit, giving him a hint of personality. 

When his green eyes meet yours from across the room, you feel all of the air in your body leave you. A current of electricity courses from your body to his, making the room feel tense despite the coolness of the office. He gives you a stoic expression as if he is irritated that he was interrupted. “Your 10 o’clock is here, sir!” Mai brightly announces. “For Y/N L/N?” 

Nanami’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Ah, yes,” he replies. He stands from his desk, giving you a chance to see how tall he is. The man is nearly six foot! You swear that you nearly fall out right there. “My interview. Thank you, Mai, that will be all.” 

Mai respectfully bows before turning on her heel to face you. “Good luck,” she whispers with a wink before closing the door behind you. Then it’s just you and him. You stand near the door while Nanami comes around the front of the desk, still keeping that same cool, blank expression. You feel like a deer who is being sized up for dinner by a lion. “So you’re here,” he says. “And only two minutes late.” 

You feel embarrassment flood you, making you hot all over you. You know he’s testing you, trying to make you break right off the bat…but you won’t let him. You clear your throat and meet him halfway, putting your hand out for a shake. “Mr. Nanami,” you calmly say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I arrived here ten minutes early than my scheduled time, but one of your assistants had to leave me for work duties.” You give him a smile as the cherry on top. ‘See? I’m good.’

Nanami’s eyebrows raise slightly, obviously impressed by your quick-wittedness and ability to read the room. “Not bad,” he praises you. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. L/N.” His larger hand meets yours, giving you a chance to feel his calloused palm and thick fingers. You try to avoid thinking about them around your neck. “Please, have a seat.” 

He motions to the cushioned seats in front of you while he takes his seat behind his desk, shutting his laptop. "You’ll have to forgive me for my tartness. I had a no-show earlier for an 8 o’clock meeting and I’m not a man of those.” You nod understandably. “It’s okay,” you say. “I can understand that. I’ve never been a fan of no-shows either.” You cross your legs as you sit, folding your hands in your lap. 

“Are you referring to your current job as a research assistant?” he questions. The corner of his lips twitch at the look of shock you give him. You damn near forgot where you work at! “I did my studying for today. Your resume is very interesting.” Interesting. You don’t know whether to be happy with that statement or nervous. “Oh…thank you. I actually have it here with me as a copy.” 

You go into your bag where you retrieve a folder and several copies of your resume. You pass one to Nanami who barely cracks a smile at the fact that you are prepared. He must be trying to size you up, see if you’re fit for the position. You watch him read over the paper, his index finger dragging over each section.

“So you graduated with a 3.8 GPA with a Bachelor’s Degree in marketing and communications,” he points out. You nod, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. “Yes, originally, I was studying political science, but I changed my major during my sophomore year.” 

“May I ask why?” he asks, raising a curious eyebrow. You’re more than happy to give him an answer. “Politics can become too messy in my opinion, not to mention that the major was extremely competitive. I was also working as an intern at the time and on the–“ 

“Cheerleading team,” he finishes. “Yes, that’s listed here in your extra curriculum activities, but you left the team during your senior year, it appears.” He gives you a sharp look that is pushing you to give him an explanation. Your brain grasps for straws. “Um…senior year is a busy time for all students,” you quickly explain. “At the time, I was just trying to finish school so I could graduate on time, which I accomplished, fortunately.” 

Nanami only gives a “huh” at this which isn’t the response you are looking for. “Huh” as in “oh, that’s interesting” or “huh” as in “this bitch isn’t reliable and can’t handle shit when shit gives tough”? 

“Let’s talk about your current position.” He folds his big, calloused hands on top of his desk, on your resume. “It seems like a promising position. Why do you want to leave there and come work here?” 

You sit up straight, happy that you practiced for this exact question. “Well, I just believe it’s time for me to move onto something new; preferably onto a new company that has a diverse team and benefits for its employees. I believe that your company does so.” Nanami leans forward slightly, peering deep into the recesses of your soul behind his spectacles. “So what exactly do you think you can offer this company, Ms. L/N?” he asks. “Or more specifically, what can you offer me?” 

Your stomach drops. You didn’t practice for this question. “U-Um…I’m a quick learner,” you reply, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. “I’m not afraid to ask questions if I’m unsure, but I’m also not afraid to lean on myself for answers. I work well independently as well as in a team. I’m hardworking, determined, and detail-oriented. I’m also willing to do whatever work is necessary to succeed.” 

Nanami’s eyebrows raise once more. “Whatever work necessary?” he parrots, quiet interest in his tone. “Elaborate on that for me. What kind of work or things would you be willing to do in order to succeed at this company, Ms. L/N?” 

Your brain begins to jump from place to place, grabbing at whatever. “Staying longer hours,” you decide. “I know this is a 9-5 position, but if you ever needed me to stay longer to get a head start on work or complete something, I’d be willing to do so. I’m also good at creating Powerpoint presentations for meetings. A-And I’m well-organized.” Now you’re stuttering. Stumbling over your answers. You’re fucking up! He’s going to see your nervous and unconfident and put you on the chopping block! 

Nanami stares you down for a moment longer, making you feel like you’re on trial and he’s a judge, before leaning back in his seat. He places his hands in his lap, ever poised and sexy. “Hm,” he hums. “As much as I appreciate your willingness to stay longer hours, Ms. L/N, I will be honest with you: you’re not the first person who I’ve interviewed who gave me all of this jargon in hopes of getting the position and then didn’t deliver on any of their promises or skills.” 

You nervously gnaw on your bottom lip, gripping your hands to force them to stop shaking. “I’m sure you have,” you quietly reply, “but I’m also sure I can change your mind and prove that I’m worthy of this position, Mr. Nanami.” 

Something sparkles in Nanami’s forest-green eyes and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Worthy?” he questions. “That’s a new one: worthy.” He tests it out on his tongue as if it’s a new kind of food. Something foreign to him. He leans towards you once more, placing his hands on the desk. “Well, let me ask you this: do you think that you’re confident enough to work beside me if you do happen to get this position? Because from what I’m seeing, you’re not.” 

You’re so busy thinking about how handsome he is that you nearly miss his criticism. But when you catch it, you feel cold like you were just dunked in a pool of ice. You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Excuse me?” you ask, squinting at him. 

Nanami barely reacts to your reaction. “You stutter a lot,” he bluntly points out. “Whether out of habit or because you’re nervous which shows the employer, which is me, that you’re not confident in your words or thoughts. Then it’s in your body language: your shoulders are up by your ears and obviously tense, your skin is flushed, and your hands are shaking.” 

And he’s right. You can feel how tense and hot you are; how shaky and unbalanced you feel. You feel like crawling under the chair you’re sitting in and hiding from his scrutiny. But you also won’t allow him to expose you like this. “Well, I would think that nervousness is a common human emotion,” you retort. 

He nods, giving you a point for your fairness. “It is…but judging by your resume, I’m sure you’ve sat through many job interviews, and got the jobs as I’m seeing here.” He takes his glasses off, revealing his naked eyes to you. “So what makes this one so different? Why are you so nervous to be here with me today?” 

You can tell he’s trying hard to make you crack. He’s trying to see if you’re able to handle the pressure. Though you feel nervous and embarrassed, you also feel incredibly pissed. How dare you try to grill you like this? You can’t let him win this. You won’t. “Mr. Nanami,” you carefully say, your tone calm yet firm, “I understand what you’re trying to do here, but I’m not really appreciating it. It seems like more of a grilling session than a job interview. Aren’t we supposed to be talking about the job?” 

Nanami barely even blinks. “We have,” he replies. “And now I’m trying to decide if you are seriously fit for such a position. I take my work very seriously, Ms. L/N, and I need to be sure that you will take my work, as well yours, seriously as well. I can’t have you cracking under pressure or second-guessing things. Those are all signs of being unconfident.” He leans forward, squinting his eyes at you. “Now, do you think you can handle it?” he questions. 

You want to say yes, but you know he’ll argue with you. He’ll come up with all kinds of logic to tell you why you aren’t qualified for this position. So you keep quiet instead, just staring him down and forcing yourself to not look away. The more you stare, the hotter you get until you realize that it’s not out of embarrassment. This heat is out of attraction. Despite your anger, he’s just so goddamn fine! So you look down at your shoes, too afraid for him to see your true feelings under the anger.

Finally, Nanami heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see it,” he sighs. “I’m afraid this is where we–“ 

“What?” you snap, causing him to stop short. You glare at him, enraged. “That’s it? You bring me in here for an interview just to tell me you’re not hiring me because you don’t think I’m confident?” You square your jaw at him and put a hand to your chest. “I am confident,” you hiss. “If you let me show you, I can prove it to you, Mr. Nanami.” 

Now, Nanami smirks. It's rousing and mocking, angering you even more. “Oh,” he nearly chuckles. “So now you want to look at me. And your emotions are easily roused which could complicate your work if you were to work here.” 

The room has gotten too hot. Too tense. You can’t handle this. If you’re here any longer, you’ll surely jump over this desk and wring his thick neck. “You know what?” you scoff haughtily. “I don’t need to sit here and be criticized like this. I may want this job, but I don’t want it that much to allow myself to be grilled like this.” You abruptly stand from your chair, nearly knocking it over. He looks up at you, his expression cool. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Nanami,” you nearly growl. “Have a good day.” You then whip around to storm out of the office, prepared to leave and never return.  

“Stop.” The command cuts through the air along with Nanami’s deep voice. You do so and turn to face him, confused. He is still sitting down, his steely eyes glaring at you from across the room. “Sit down,” he orders. You gawk at him. Is he serious right now? “Why?” you cackle. “So you can go and grill me some more on why I’m not a good candidate for this position? Thanks, but no–“ 

“I said.” The sound of his chair squeaking across the floor stops you short. He stands behind his desk, blocking the window with his big, tall frame. His expression is dark and intimidating, his eyes daring you to argue with him again. “Sit. Down. Y/N.” His tone is hard as steel with a slight undercurrent of a growl underneath. 

You stand there, taken aback at his change in demeanor. And even more so in the way it makes you feel. You feel tingly and hot, specially between your legs. Nanami continues to stare at you, silently daring you to disobey his order. Against your better judgement, you slowly walk back over to his desk on legs that feel like Jell-O and sit down. Your eyes find your shoes again, afraid to look into his as he sits back down behind his desk. 

“You really think you got it like that?” he asks. “You really think that you have what it takes to work for me? With me?” Your heart flips wildly at his questions and the roughness to his tone. He seems so calm and collected. Who the fuck is this? “Answer the question,” he demands. 

You swallow roughly before opening your mouth. “Yes,” you breathlessly reply. 

That is all Nanami needs to hear. He stands again, coming around the desk to stand beside you. You tremble, harshly biting your lip. “You said you’d prove to me your confidence and other assets that you can bring to this position if I let you.” 

Zzzzip. The familiar sound of a zipper coming down stops you short. You turn your head toward him in time to see his hips and crotch in your face and his hands working his belt off. “Well, now I’m letting you.” Your eyes follow his hands as he shrugs his pants down his waist before reaching into his Armani briefs to reveal his throbbing, hard, veiny cock to you. “Show me what you mean, Ms. L/N. Prove to me your worth.” 

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. This can’t be…he isn’t…he can’t… “W-What is this?” you gasp. “Mr. Nanami, you can’t–“ 

“Can’t what?” he asks. You look up at him, seeing nothing but molten lust in his eyes. “Don’t act as if you weren't hoping I’d do this to you. You wore that skirt and those heels for an obvious reason than to just seem presentable.” He nods at your outfit, making you feel ashamed. “And don't think I didn’t catch the way you looked at me when you walked in or the way you kept crossing and uncrossing your legs under the table. You’re fucking feening right now, aren't you, brat?” 

Brat. The name and the sharpness of his tone makes your stomach flip. “What?” you squeak. “I’m not a–“ 

“Talking back too?” he tsks. He places a hand on the back of your hair, near your scalp. “That just won’t do. A girl like you needs to be put in her place, don’t you agree?” He places his other hand on his cock, slowly pumping the hardened shaft in your face. “This is your decision, Y/N,” he huskily says. “If you wish to leave, you can, but if you stay, you need to prove to me your worth. I’m not a man who gives things out so easily.” 

Your eyes tick from him to his cock, back and forth like ping pong balls. You weigh your options carefully: if you say no, you’re out of a really good job and will be forced to return to the dreaded application process, but if you say yes, you’ll be nothing but a cock-sucking slut. What if he doesn’t even give you the job? 

“So what’s it gonna be, little girl?” Nanami hums. Looking back down at his cock, you take your chances. You wrap one tentative hand around the base of his dick, causing him to shimmy closer to you so he’s closer to your mouth. You then begin pressing light kisses around the head and length of his cock, feeling how warm his skin is against your lips. “There we are,” he softly moans. “Good girl.” 

The praise causes your pussy to twitch in delight and you find yourself beginning to lick up and down his long cock while your hands pump the base. He feels so heavy and thick in your hand. As you do this, soft moans drip from Nanami’s lips, deep and arousing. Your tongue and soft hands on him cause him to reach into his briefs to pull out his heavy balls, letting them hang as you continue to pump him. Your mind is racing, your eyes moving to the door ever so often.

Nanami catches you and chuckles to himself. “Don’t worry; my door has an automatic lock. Maki was only able to open it because I left it unlocked in the case of an appointment….or in the case of visits from horny little sluts like you.” 

You whimper at his degrading words, still slobbering along his cock and wetting it with your saliva. Finally, Nanami stops you and takes your chin into his hand, forcing you to look up at him. “So if I were to tell you that I was stressed and in need of relieving, what would you say to that?” he asks. The question would sound random to anyone else, but you know what he means right off the bat. 

So you give him the answer he is searching for: “I’d ask if I could help you,” you softly reply, your voice breathy and soft. Nanami’s cock twitches in response. “Then show me,” he demands, taking his cock and gently smacking the head against your chin. “Open your mouth for me, brat.”  

And you do so. As soon as your open your mouth, Nanami is hypnotized by your tongue and thick, juicy lips spread open for him. He angles his hips towards your mouth and slowly pushes inside, groaning as he does. “Christ!” he grunts, gripping the back of your head. “Your mouth is so tight and wet, darling.” 

Your moans are muffled as his cock slides into your mouth, stretching out your jaw. Your eyes, stinging with tears, widen at how large he is. You’ve never had a cock this big in your mouth before. Your eyes tick up at Nanami, watching as he strips himself of his suit jacket before unbuttoning his shirt. He reveals his bare, toned chest and hard, pink nipples as he begins to roll his hips against your mouth, forcing you to take more of him. “Come on, brat,” he demands. “Take my cock. Isn’t this what you were after?” 

His shaft slides against your tongue, filling your mouth and senses with nothing but the salty taste of his pre-cum, the scent of his cologne in your nostrils, and the feeling of his hand gripping the back of your head. He pushes you down onto his cock, forcing himself into your throat. A gargled moan leaves your lips as he throws his head back and groans at the feeling of being trapped inside your hot, tight throat. “I’ll go nice and slow, okay?” he coos. 

He then begins to slowly roll his hips against your mouth, causing his cock to plunge in and out of your throat, getting deeper each time. His heavy balls swing against your chin, becoming wet with the spit that has begun to pool and drip over your lips. Nanami tuts at the sight of you being a slobbery, sloppy mess for him as he fucks your face. “Such a mess,” he sighs. “Just a dirty, bratty little slut, doesn’t even know how to keep herself clean.” 

He wraps a hand around your braids and forces your head back, yanking his cock out of your mouth. You gasp at the sharp sting coming from your scalp. “You want this?” he murmurs, staring down at you. “You want this cock? Tell me no and I’ll stop.” Your eyes stare at the cock, now shining in your saliva, bobbing in front of you. Your pussy clenches impatiently in your panties, gushing all in the cotton article of clothing. You want this. You want him. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I want your cock. Please give it to me, sir.” 

Nanami closes his eyes and inhales as if your words are a drug that he just got a hit of. “Call me Kento, darling,” he says as he plunges his cock back into your mouth. “Though ‘sir’ does sound quite nice.” He begins to thrust his hips roughly into your mouth, fucking your throat like it is his own personal toy. “It’d be a…fuck…a joy to hear you call me that every single day I…shit, darling…come in here. Even better to hear you moan it. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

Your words are a garbled, mumbling mess around his cock, your voice taken from the sound the lewd, sloppy sounds leaving your lips as he mercilessly fucks your throat. You gag and spit around his shaft, earning praise by his orgasmic moans and grunts. The more he fucks your mouth, the harder his grip on your hair gets until you can feel your scalp burning. But you endure it. You also find yourself enjoying the bite of pain along with the feeling of being used. This is so degrading: being used as a fuck toy in such a way. 

And you love every second of it. 

“Fuck!” Nanami growls, finally pulling his throbbing cock out of your mouth. It bobs against your lips before he pulls away, slowly pumping the appendage in your face. You gasp, finally free to breathe. You are a complete mess, saliva dripping down your chin and staining your blouse; hair askew; makeup ruined. The blonde man stares down at you, your hair still wrapped in his fist. “Look at you,” he huffs. “You’re a fucking mess. Came in here all pretty just to get ruined by me, didn’t you?” 

You whimper at his words, your pussy tingling. His thumb moves across your plump lower lip, spreading the saliva across your lips. “Oh…does my little brat love being degraded?” Hot embarrassment makes you flush. “N-No, I–“ 

You’re silenced by Nanami’s hand squeezing your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker. “Lying?” he sharply asks, his gaze dark. “You have the nerve to fix your mouth to say that shit to me yet your body betrays you.” He nods down at your thighs that clench together and your hardened nipples that have begun to poke through the mesh fabric of your bra. “I guess you need some attention too,” he sighs. “I just can’t decide whether you really deserve my touch.” 

He unhands you then, stepping away from you and leaving you feeling empty. The stinging sensation coming from your scalp and throat are all that remain of him. You feel like you’re burning up. There’s an all-consuming fire eating at your body and between your legs. You need him. You bend down to press your head to his shoes, your trembling hands grasping his pant legs. “Please, sir,” you beg. “Please touch me. You can’t leave me like this!” 

An aloof chuckle leaves Nanami’s lips. “Oh, I can’t?” he asks. “I can’t let you walk out of here with that pussy gushing for me and that mascara running?” You desperately whimper and babble pleas for more, the aching of your sobbing, wet pussy too much to bare. Fortunately, it’s enough for Nanami to give in.

“Oh, alright,” he pitifully sighs, "but only because you look so oh-so pathetic. And you did such a good job sucking my cock just now. Stand up.” You immediately rise to your wobbly feet as soon as the order is uttered. Nanami gives you a hot stare as his hand trails up the front of your blouse. “Let’s get these fucking clothes off,” he growls impatiently. “Oh, and I almost forgot.” 

Suddenly, his lips are on yours, rough and wanton. You moan into the kiss as his hot, wet tongue begins to explore yours, swirling around your mouth and tasting himself off of your tongue. His kiss is hungry and hard; not at all soft or romantic. He is desperate for you. Breathy groans and gasps leaves his lips as his hands begin to quickly unbutton each button to your pretty silk blouse. Soon, he becomes impatient and ends up tearing the thing off of you, resulting in a button flying off. 

You gasp, pulling away from the sloppy kiss as he flings your top open to reveal your lacy black bra. “Sir!” you shout in protest. “Kento, please! You’ll ruin it!” He tears the rest of the top off of you, pulling it off of your arms and tossing it to the side like it didn’t cost you a pretty penny. Nanami rolls his eyes at your dramatics. “You can rest assure you’ll be receiving the money for new clothing…if you do a good job for me now, that is.” 

As his lips and tongue find yours again, his veiny hands then begin to slide up and down your chest, fondling your breasts over your bra cups. You softly moan at his touch into his mouth, the tingling sensation you’re feeling between your thighs quickly growing. He pulls away from the kiss, gently tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth. “Mmm, such gorgeous breasts you have, darling,” he groans. “Too bad they belong to such a slutty brat.” 

Without warning, he slides your bra straps down your shoulders and slides the bra cups down to reveal your breasts and hard, brown nipples, pebbled by the cold and your arousal. A crazed look crosses Nanami’s eyes before he ducks down to capture a nipple into his mouth. “Shit,” you gasp, your hands finding his hair. His tongue wraps around your nipple, lapping at the tiny bud as his hand works your other breast, fondling it. 

Your mouth falls open and your eyes flutter closed at the new sensations you’re feeling. He then switches to the other, sucking and tugging on the nipple with his teeth, smirking at your sharp intake of breath. He alternates between each nipple, sucking, lapping, and licking at each like a hungered man desperate for water. With each torturous second, the tingling and ache in your cunt grow, making you go nearly insane. “A-Ah,” you moan. “K-Kento…fuck, sir, please!” You arch your back, pushing your breasts further into Nanami’s mouth. 

He chuckles, pulling away from your nipple with a string of saliva dripping from his bottom lip. He looks up at you, his eyes shimmering with lust. “Getting worked up over having your nipples sucked? Such a sensitive little thing you are, Ms. L/N. Now bend over.” You blink at him, momentarily confused and still recovering from the foreplay. “W-What?” you nimbly ask. 

Nanami gives you a stern look, a darkness coming over his gaze. “I didn’t stutter, brat,” he growls. “If I tell you to do something, you do it. How else will I be able to depend on you for this job?” He peels himself away from your naked breasts and nods at his desk. “Now bend over my desk now before I do it for you.” He then cracks one of his hands at his sides, the sound of his knuckle cracking making you gulp (and cream in your panties). 

You do as he says and bend over his desk, being careful to not knock over his laptop, mug, or papers. You brace your hands against the oakwood surface, biting your lip when you feel Nanami’s presence behind you. You’re a wreck before he even touches you, but when he finally slides his hands up your skirt to grip your thighs, you’re shaking. His hands move all across your thighs and backside, gripping your ass over your skirt. “Damn this skirt,” he growls. “Damn this ass of yours. Apologies, darling, but I have to spank you. After all, you deserve punishment for such naughty behavior.” 

He leans down toward you, his minty breath in your face and lips at your ear. “Do you want your punishment, slut?” he questions barely above a whisper. Pathetically, you nod, arching your back and presenting your ass to him. “Y-Yes, sir,” you reply. “Please punish me. Make me your good girl.” 

That answer pleases Nanami. He slides your skirt up to reveal your ass––and the lace, black panties underneath your nylon stockings. “Brace yourself, darling; my hands are rough.” 

Spank! The moment Nanami’s hand makes contact with your asscheek, you jump and gasp at the stinging sensation. His hands really are rough. Nanami chuckles at your reaction. “Yeah, you like that, naughty girl?” He does it again invoking a low, desperate moan from the deepest depths of you. Spank! “Y’know, I saw you staring at my hands earlier.”

Spank! “I bet all you thought about in that dumb little brain of yours is me bending you over and doing this to you.”

Spank! “I bet you want someone to come in and find us like this, your pretty ass bent over my desk.”

Spank! Spank! Spank! 

He does this again and again, punishing your ass until it is stinging and possibly red with his handprints on each cheek. Though it hurts and brings tears to your eyes, it also makes you wetter. The pain mixed with your pleasure is one intoxicating cocktail that you can't get enough of. Soon, your pussy has a heartbeat and it throbs impatiently, ready for something to be inside of it.

“Sir, please!” you whine, gripping the desk for dear life. “I can’t take it anymore! I’m sorry for being such a brat!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Nanami hums, pleased with your confession. You feel him begin to yank at your stockings, pulling the waistband down your hips. “I bet that pussy is too,” he murmurs as he quickly pulls your stockings down your legs. He is rough and ends up putting a tear in one of them, but you’re way too horny to care. He then reaches your panties and pulls them down, groaning at the way your pussy lips stick to the cotton fabric. “And she is. Just look at how she’s crying for me.” 

You can feel how wet you are judging by the way your pussy tingles in the cold. Nanami bends down and gently blows on it, causing you to tense and softly whimper at the tiny bit of contact. “Such a beautiful pussy you have,” he coos. “And all for me.” Before you can even take a breath, he is gently prying your asscheeks apart and spitting on your pussy before digging in and slurping his saliva back up. 

As he does this, his tongue swirls along your clit and his pillowy-soft lips cushion your pussy, running along your slit as he plays with your cunt with his mouth. You gasp, moan, and sob into the desk, wanting to dig your nails into the oakwood with how good he is. He eats your pussy like it’s a profession of his, taking his time getting to know the ins and outs of you. He even slides his hand up to gently run his thumb over your puckered asshole while he tongue fucks you, groaning appreciatively at your taste. 

Your toes curl inside your heels and your hands grasp to grab for something only to get polished wood beneath you. You’ve never gotten so close so quickly before. Usually, it takes a while for a man to get you even a mile from cumming, but not with Nanami. He moves his mouth and tongue with precision against your clit, moving between fast and slow depending on how your body reacts.

But when his thumb begins to caress your asshole, you just about lose it. “Oh, God,” you sob, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes. “Kento, just fuck me. I need you to fuck me!” 

Then…nothing. The feeling of your nearing orgasm fades. Nanami stops eating you out immediately and you’re left wondering what happened. His hand suddenly finds your hair and roughly yanks it back, causing you to release a strangled gasp. It hurts way more than earlier, his grip tight and merciless.

He bends his face down to meet yours, his eyes dark and almost frightening. “You don't tell me what the fuck to do, brat,” he growls. “I decide what to do to your body. Me. Understand?” 

His grip tightens more and the stinging in your scalp of your braids being yanked nearly makes you see God early. “Yes!” you sob. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry! This pussy just needs you so bad!” Finally, he loosens his grip and releases your hair, emitting a weak moan of pain from you. 

“Alright, brat,” he cooly says. “I’ll fuck you…but we’ll do it my way. Put your hands behind your back, wrists crossed.” 

You do as you’re told, putting your hands behind your back and crossing them over one another. You then feel Nanami’s funny-looking tie wrap around your wrists, tightening them and securing them behind your back.

You softly gasp at the sensations of being restricted to which Nanami pauses. “Good?” he asks. You nod and he proceeds to continue to tie your wrists until he is finally satisfied. “There we go,” he proudly says. “Now you can’t squirm or make a fuss when I plunge my cock deep inside of you.” 

And you can’t. Your arms are completely restricted from movement, as is the rest of you as you stand between the desk and Nanami mounted behind you. He ruts his hips against your ass for a few minutes, sliding his cock between your slit and over your throbbing clit, relishing the sounds you make as you lay splayed out against his desk.

“Here I come, baby,” he whispers before sliding all the way home inside you. You gasp in unison as his thick cock stretches out your wet pussy walls, filling you up the way you’ve been waiting for. 

He starts slow at first, grabbing your hips and slowly rolling his hips so you can get used to his length and girth. Your hand flies to your mouth to cover it, muffling your moans. Nanami doesn’t like that. He tears your hand away from your face, pinning it back down on the desk. “My walls are soundproof,” he grunts. “You have no need to worry. Come on, baby; give me those slutty sounds I know you can make.” 

He begins to fuck you harder against the desk, one hand gripping your hip while the other lays flat on the middle of your back, keeping you pressed flat against the oakwood surface. As soon as he hits that spot inside you, you can’t keep quiet. You begin wailing in pleasure, overcome with the feeling he is giving you. “O-Oh, fuck!” you gasp. “Fuck, sir!” 

Nanami draws more of these moans and wails of pleasure out of you the more he fucks you until he is pounding your pussy against the desk. “God, you’re so tight!” he groans. “You’re much better than the fleshlight I keep under my desk. You’d be a much better addition to my office for stress.” He gives your ass a smack before lifting your leg up and fucking into you at a faster pace that is making you see the entire galaxy. 

“Take it,” he demands. “Take this cock. You wanted it so bad and now you’ve got it.” Yes, you do have it…but you don’t know if you can take it. Every rough thrust of his cock sends you into orbit. It shakes the desk with you bent over it, making your titties bounce against the surface and your ass jiggle against his hips. “Wait, sir!” you plea. “Go slow! Can’t…handle…it!” Your words are broken by the force of how hard he is fucking you, taking you very breath away. 

Nanami cackles like a villain straight out of a Disney movie as he looks over your plump ass pressed against him, his cock nestled deep in your ushy, gushy pussy. “Ohhh, is this cock too much for that poor pussy?” he teasingly asks. “Is it too big and thick for that slutty little hole to take? I believe I missed the part where I gave a fuck.” 

He continues to turn you all the way out, making the desk rock and causing his balls to swing against your clit, throwing you deeper into pleasure. “This is what you get for being a brat,” he grunts. “This is what you get for disobeying me. What you get for wearing that skirt and those heels. This is what–“ 

Rrrring! Rrrring! 

Nanami doesn’t slow his pace or stop his rough fucking into your cunt despite his work phone ringing. You weakly look up at the black telephone sitting by his laptop. “This is a call from Satoru Gojo,” the automated voice announces from the phone. 

“Shit!” Nanami hisses. He bends down toward you then, his nose nearly centimeters from yours. “I’ve gotta take this, but don’t you dare say a single thing. Don’t make a sound.”

You weakly nod, covering your mouth as he goes to pick up the phone. After a moment of composing himself, he clears his throat and answers. “Yes, Satoru?” he asks, keeping his voice steady and cool as if he isn’t fucking your brains out over his desk. “This had better be important. I’m busy at the moment.” 

“You’re always busy!” Gojo shouts into the phone, causing Nanami to flinch. “It’s what you always say when I ask for you to come out with me on the weekends…which you never do!”

Nanami sighs and you picture him rolling his eyes from behind you as he grips one of your asscheeks, no doubt leaving bruises. “That’s because all you do is hang out at clubs to fuck strangers and drink yourself into a stupor.” 

“Yeah!” Gojo agrees. “And it’s fun! You ever heard of that before? Fun? You ever try it? I think it’d do you good one of these days to have it some time, Keni.” 

This “Satoru” guy must really work Nanami’s nerves because you can feel the tension radiating off of him. He finds your hair and he grips it, continuing to pound into you at a faster pace than before. “What do you want?” He asks, becoming impatient. He yanks on your hair a little too rough and you whimper from behind your hand, your body tensing. Nanami quickly loosens his grip, looking down upon you with worry. ”Too rough?” he whispers. 

You look back at him and shake your head though your scalp burns. But you want it to burn. You want to take every single of ounce of pain and pleasure he gives you. “No,” you whisper. “I’m okay.” You begin to fuck back into him, tossing your ass back to fuck his cock, watching his face contort in pleasure. “Fuck me harder, sir,” you purr. “Take your stress out on this pussy. Make this little slut yours.” 

Nanami’s eyes widen like he can’t believe you’re really real. “Fucking hell,” he whispers. Suddenly realizing he’s still on the phone, he puts the phone back to his ear while he roughly pins you back down to the desk. “Sorry, what?” he questions. 

“I was telling you about the meeting we’re supposed to have at the end of the week,” Gojo repeats. “Were you listening to me at all?” You groan as Nanami’s cock sinks deeper inside you and your hand finds your slit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Sorry, I got…distracted.” You giggle behind your hand. “Is this about the brand deal with the Human Rights Campaign? I told them we get 50% of proceeds.” 

“Not just them, but the New York Times too!” Gojo excitedly states. “I pulled some strings for us, man! They want to do a story on both of our departments! Say, ain’t it weird that we’re both a part of the same company but my department is all the way in the fucking US?” 

Nanami rails you harder; deeper; faster. Pushing you further and further towards an explosive orgasm. “Gojo, I told you already,” he grunts. “You’re part of the American branch while I’m part of–“

His words are quickly interrupted by a sharp gasp when you begin tossing your ass back into him, looking back at him as you do it. He glares down at you like he is one second away from ruining you. “You fucking brat,” he snarls. “You’re gonna get it later.” 

“Who’s gonna get it later?” Gojo asks curiously. “Nanami, you good? You’re acting kinda off. Are you with somebody right now?” Your heart lurches into your throat, but your pussy also clenches at the idea of being caught. “No,” Nanami sharply replies, yanking on your hair. “No, it was just a bug I saw. Listen, I’ve gotta go.” 

You thank God for that because you don’t think you can keep quiet anymore. You have to clamp your hand over your mouth and bite your palm to keep from screaming at the deep dicking you’re receiving. “So we’re on meeting both HRC and NYT on Friday?” Gojo asks. “It starts at 1PM to about 3, but I’ll be bringing wine along so that might turn into about 5.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” Nanami impatiently huffs. “Just keep me informed.” Without a goodbye, he hangs up and tosses the phone on the ground. “Now back to you,” he growls. He takes your hips and pounds into you with the force of a thousand men, wrecking you on his cock. “Don’t run from it now, brat. You were so desperate to fuck yourself on it minutes before.” 

Your tits swing beneath you and your ass claps against him every time he thrusts, creating a symphony of sounds mingling with your desperate whines and the squelching of your wet pussy being fucked by his cock. You can’t take it anymore. Your body is wet with sweat and your knees are buckling, tired from this and desperate for rest, just as your pussy is desperate to cum. “K-Kento!” you whine. “Keni, I’m so close! I need to cum!” 

And like an asshole, Nanami slows down, purposely rolling his hips in a way that is agonizing given that he isn’t moving any quicker. “Prove it,” he demands. “Make me make you cum. Beg for it, brat.” 

The slower he gets, the crazier you become until you’re pleading for him to just make you cum. “Please make me cum, sir,” you sob in desperation. “Make me cream all over your cock! Please, I need it! Your little brat needs to cum on that dick and have you fill her up.”

You turn to face him, peering up at him through thick lashes and big, brown eyes that have Nanami wanting to nut all over you just so everyone can know you are his now. “Please, Keni,” you whisper. “Gimme that dick. Gimme that cum. Your little office sluts needs it so much.” 

That does it for Nanami. He speeds up immediately, pounding your wet pussy into his desk until neither one of you are quiet and both of you are soon tumbling over the edge. “Fuck!” he groans. “I’m gonna cum! I can’t stop!” 

Your moans are signs of encouragement to cum deep inside of you and he does so. With a primal grunt of your first name, he pours his cum inside of your aching, twitching pussy. You cum right with him, your walls gripping onto him tighter than a vice as your body tenses. With a loud moan, you cum all over his dick, making his balls drip with your cream because there is so much of it. You can feel him drip down your thighs, staining your pretty nylon stockings. You can’t even recover from the orgasm yet. Nanami quickly pulls his semi-hard cock out of you, emitting a weak moan from the emptiness you feel. 

“Not done yet,” he snarls. He pumps his cock, wet with your and his cum, hard and fast, his handsome face red with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Turn the fuck around and show me that face. Stick out your tongue.” You do as he says, though wobbly and soaked with sweat and cum. 

You get on your knees and look up at him, admiring his God-like body. You then open your mouth, sticking out your pink tongue, hot, needy pants leaving your lips the more he pumps his cock against your lips. “Gonna paint this pretty face,” he moans. “Gonna make you wish you listened to me.”

You watch his toned body tense and writhe as he finally cums again, shooting ropes of cum into your mouth and onto your face, destroying your makeup. You gasp as each warm drop hits your skin, coating you in all of his sticky nut. You feel used. Owned. 

Nanami staggers away from you, panting heavily, his toned body soaked in sweat. He swipes his blonde strands from his flushed forehead, still coming down from his high. He then looks down at you with his cum dripping down your face, your pretty interview outfit ruined, and your braids askew. “Consider yourself hired,” he says, a rasp in his voice. 

You giggle at his words despite his cum beginning to drip over your eyes. You shut them, not wanting to go blind. “Shit, I needed that,” Nanami sighs. You weakly moan, bringing him back to reality. “Shit, hang on a sec,” he says, panicking slightly as the cum begins to drip lower and lower down to your breasts. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You hear him walk around you to his desk before returning with some tissues. 

He carefully dabs at your face, cleaning you up. “Sorry about your makeup, honey,” he says. “It’s all over these tissues now.” He goes down to your chest, cleaning between your breasts and neck. Finally, he finishes. “There now. All clean.” You open your eyes to stare into his, feeling like you’re wandering through a deep, wild wilderness in those green orbs. “Let’s get these off of you,” he says, moving behind you to untie your wrists. 

When you’re finally free, you twist your wrists around and wiggle your fingers, getting the blood flowing back through your bones. “So how do you feel?” he softly asks. You take a moment to assess yourself. Though your body aches, your throat is raw, and your pussy is feeling sore, you feel oh-so good. It’s so hard to explain. To be used up by him has made you feel better than you have in months. “I-I feel…good,” you decide. “Better than good. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. Thank God for your soundproof walls.” 

A slight blush paints Nanami’s face. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s so endearing and makes you wanna make him cum over and over again. “So I did okay?” he sheepishly asks. 

You wrap your arms around him, “Baby, you did more than okay,” you giggle, pecking his lips. “But you always do…but I’d be lying if I said that seeing your Dom side isn’t a turn-on.” Nanami beams at you, happy that he could make your dreams come true. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he chuckles. “We’ll have to make these lunch visits more of a frequent thing for us. Including the role-play.” 

You giggle in agreement and take his hands, allowing him to help you stand on your wobbly feet and weak knees. He then begins to fix his pants and adjust himself, putting his cock back in his briefs while you pull up your panties over your twitching, soaked pussy. “Oh, which reminds me!” you chirp. “The sandwich rolls are still downstairs in the employee fridge. I left them there in case our meeting got, um…lengthy.” 

Nanami smirks and curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Such a smart and sexy girl I’ve got,” he coos. “How was I so lucky to end up with you?” You place your hands on his bare chest, feeling his heart beat against your palms. “Guess it was just fate,” you reply, hopelessly in love with the man standing before you. Nanami smiles, silently agreeing with your statement. 

You then part and continue to get dressed, adjusting your clothes as to not make any of the employees aware that you two fucked in their boss’s office just now. “And you’re sure that Maki and Mai don’t suspect a thing?” you curiously ask as you fix your blouse, pouting at the two buttons that popped off. 

Nanami looks at you as he fixes his button-up, only fixing the first button before moving toward you. “No one knows I’m even dating anyone, Y/N,” he assures you with a kiss to your jawline. “I barely tell my team anything about what goes on outside this building. Don’t worry, no one knows that we’re–“ 

“Fucking!” Mai screams from outside the door, scaring the shit out of you. “They’re totally fucking, Maki! I told you!” 

“Mai, get away from the door!” Maki criticizes her sister. “That’s an invasion of privacy!” 

You turn to Nanami and beg him with your eyes to kill you if you don’t die of embarrassment first. He takes one look at the door before turning to you, his hands on his narrow hips. “Well, guess I’ll be looking for another assistant,” he sighs. “And a soundproofed door.” 

THE END.

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Hello!! Can I have a request for MC would turn to sheep form when they detected the brothers are. In the mood and try to comfort them (let the brothers hold them and maybe cry for) please? I love your drabbles, but you have the right to not write this, all up to you!

Also, can you fold your fic by use the keep reading between the paragraph please? Ot would helpe more to reblog them and won't cause other people have to scroll down whole fic if they're not the fan of OM. Thank you and wish you have a good day.🍀

Obey Me! Brothers react to: Mc turning into their sheep form to comfort the brother when he's upset.

Lucifer's (you are here), Mammon's, Leviathan's, Satan's, Asmodeus's, Beelzebub's, & Belphegor's reactions.

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Hello! Thank you for the request! If this isn't what you had in mind feel free to request again! I am going to write it in a different style like you requested but I might not write everything like this! Might have some angst but its mostly comfort! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

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Lucifer's reaction:

Finding Lucifer upset or crying is a rare occasion. It's a side of himself that he doesn't let others see often, if at all. Lucifer takes pride in being seen a certain way, so he may yell or try and scare anyone who sees him crying off. He may even claim he wasn't crying at all. If Mc and Lucifer are together Lucifer won't be as bad about pushing Mc away when he's crying, but there may still be occasions when he tries to get Mc to leave him to cry alone. He just doesn't want Mc looking down on him or looking at him differently.

For this little scenario lets say this is the first time Mc finds Lucifer crying. Mc was probably just trying to bring Lucifer some coffee or tea, they had become so used to stopping by and checking on Lucifer that knocking just slipped their mind. The sight Mc finds is one that suprises them, Mc didn't expect to find Lucifer sitting at his desk crying, his gloved hands cover his face partially but Mc can still clearly see the tears streaming down his face. Everything seemed to happen in a haze, Lucifer didn't even look up from his hands, just started yelling to 'leave him alone' or 'go away' as he turned his chair so he was facing away from the door.(I've never written about Mc's sheep form before, so this may be a little off, just bear with me) Mc didn't even mean to, but suddenly a *poof* happened, there was a bunch of smoke and Mc was in their sheep form.

The tea Mc had intended to give to Lucifer dropped to the ground and spilled everywhere when Mc transformed into Sheep Mc. Lucifer didn't even turn the chair, figuring the person dropped whatever they had in a hurry to leave his study. What Lucifer didn't expect was to hear tiny taps on the floor to his study, the taps seemed to get closer to him, causing Lucifer to turn his chair in the direction of the sound. Lucifer's cheeks were stained with tears but his crimson eyes were as intimidating as ever, his eyes bore anger, but after seeing Mc tiny and small in their sheep form, Lucifer's expression turns soft. No words are spoken, even though Sheep Mc can talk, instead Sheep Mc climbs onto Lucifer's lap. with Lucifer's help.

Sheep Mc places their tiny arms around Lucifer, hugging him gently, treating him with care. Lucifer hold's Sheep Mc close, not even trying to stop himself from crying anymore. Lucifer doesn't say anything, he just hugs Sheep Mc until the tears stop falling down his face, he may even occasionally pet Sheep Mc in attempts to calm himself. Once Lucifer has calmed down and is no longer upset, he will quietly thank Mc. If Mc chooses to stay in their Sheep form he will gladly allow them to continue to keep him company. Having Sheep Mc in his lap while he works and deals with his brothers just makes everything better. Lucifer doesn't ever tell Mc why he was crying, and Mc shouldn't ask. Its just an unspoken rule, if Mc doesn't ask questions Mc can comfort him. He doesn't need someone to talk to, he needs someone to hug and care for him, his pride would never let him admit that though.

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Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Sorry this feels rushed and short! I will be posting the other brothers reactions as well. & I'll try and make the other brothers versions a bit longer! i'll add the links to the other drabbles once they are posted! Please be patient!! More content is coning, I promise so stay tuned! Stay safe! & Stay healthy loves!

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