#I can tell you that on my way to teach in the HOOD part of this unrealistically wealthy suburb that houses Northwestern University I passed

[screampied]

toji realizes he’s in love with you when he lets you shave his face for the first time,

he’s got the biggest grump of a scowl plastered on his naturally crooked lips. as he’s glowering, he’s also trying to prevent himself from smiling because you looked so cute. your touch with him was gentle—like it always was. after you wiped his face with a dampened face towel, you rub your hands against the lower part of his jaw. “soooo,” you utter, breaking the dead silence as he’s just peering down at you. “tell me ‘bout your day, toji.”

with the palms of your hands tenderly caressing against his chiseled jawline—you smear every part of his chin and cheekbones with shaving cream. even the secluded areas underneath his nose. as you do so, toji tchs. “day was fine, baby. ‘n i told ya i can shave myself.”

“i know i know,” you hum, creating a circular motion with your hands before gently making sure every sector near the lower part of his face was lathered with nice frothy amounts of shaving cream. “wowww, you’ve got such soft skin. skin routine when?”

“ugh, y’er insufferable,” he rolls his eyes. although, his skin was surprisingly clear. toji only had a bit of a stubble, hardly any facial hair but it was growing the more he aged. you took it upon yourself to ask to help him shave and he said yes, not realizing how much he’d soon grow to like it. the feeling of your delicate, warm hands rubbing against his face was somewhat . . soothing. with a deep, heaving sigh, toji’s hooded jade eyes meet yours. he spots your pout and his shoulders lower. “alright fine, i’ll teach you one day. only if ya stop poutin'..”

with a cheeky grin, your little pout falters and you smile. “okay,” and you wait for about a good three minutes to allow the spumous cream to souse everywhere on his pores. it takes a while—and as you wait, you take a moment to stare at his features. toji was definitely easy on the eyes up close. naturally long black lashes of his flicker as he returns your loving gaze, and he avoids eye contact for a moment. perhaps you were making him a bit . . nervous. darkened eyebrows of his arch into an almost sheepish raise while he watches your adorable curious simper stretch further. “don’t be so stiff, what are you, nervous?”

“not nervous. jus’ don’t want ya to cut my face off.” he grumbles in a hoarse tone, ogling intently at you opening the bathroom cabinet for his razor. “you know what y’er doin’ right? i’d like ‘ta keep my face.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic,” and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. toji’s got a growing smirk tugging against his lips as he gawks you carefully start to shave in the exact sectors of where his facial hair resides. you did lots and lots of research—he knew this because he caught you reading various wikiHow articles on how to shave a guy’s face correctly. toji would never in a million years tell you, but he found that fact entirely adorable. you made sure you knew how to avoid burns and razor bumps. as you’re fixated on his chin, you mumble, “you’ll keep your pretty face, don’t cry.”

“aw, think ‘m pretty?” toji says, and you see the playful glint in his eyes. he’s easing up a bit, and he acknowledges that you were right. right about his stiffness, he was a bit tense. shoulders raised and all, but now—as of late, he’s starting to calm down a bit the more you talk to him. “i’d prefer the term 'handsome' but that works too, i guess.”

you deadpan, continuing your trail against his face—the razor sings out a shrieking tiiiing the more you gingerly shave with soft, gentle strokes.

it’s somewhat relaxing with the way the edges of the instrument adapts to the chiseled contours on his face. the foam starts to come off within each downward stroke and you’re very slow and precise. “okay, don’t be cocky,” you titter, and he feels his heart flutter a bit at how you’re just so dedicated. you’re so focused that your tongue briefly sticks out of your mouth, trying to make sure you do it perfectly. you tried your hardest not to cut him—you were so careful and that simple detail alone could have been enough for him to propose. “you should let me do this more. ‘s kinda fun.”

“eh. maybe,” toji shrugs, his voice coming out in a rough rasp. he doesn’t even realize it but his expressions significantly soften. he was only this way around you. to him, the thought of that was kind of scary. after you start to edge with the precision trimmer and reach underneath his nose and chin, you wrap it up. successfully discarding all of the foamy cream from his face, spotting his now clean jawline, you break away to rinse off the now grubby blades in the sink. “all done?”

“wait— don’t look yet,” you gasp, preventing him from gazing at himself in the mirror. “i still have to do the uh . . what’s it called again?”

toji snickers. “aftershave, baby.”

“aftershave,” you repeat. “right right,” and you’re so cute, kneeling down towards the wooden cabinet directly underneath the sink. you take out the mini bottle, pouring a nice goopy amount into your palm. you let toji wash his face with cold water first, patting it dry, and then you start to bedaub the facial balm in all the sensitive areas against his skin. he adores the mushy texture of your hands making contact with his face as each second passes. toji’s eyeing you, an almost grunt leaving his lips as a thumb of yours gently tickles against his infamous scar. the scar that slants itself near the right side of his lip. “thereee we go,” you give him a soft smile, the aromatic scent of tea tree oil setting against your nostrils. up close, his pores were now all so clear and you stare in awe for a bit at just how charming he was. the moisture that lays against his skin feels a lot more smooth. you grow silent for a moment before your own face softens. “okayyy, ‘m done.”

toji finally glances into the mirror, seeing his freshly new spotless face and he sees your proud toothy grin in the mirror’s reflection behind him. he cranes his neck to the side, feeling the once rough texture of his jawline now soft. he then lets off a tiny exhale. “looks good. y’er a natural,” and he turns to face you, he’s pondering on what to say. oh, your eyes sparkled with such admiration from his praise that it was just adorable. “thank you, sweetheart. for y’know . . takin’ care of me. y’er really . . sweet.”

and with that, his lips inch down to press a warm kiss against the crown of your head. your heart immediately swarms up with a frantic school of butterflies and so does his. toji prepares speak again and it’s an almost inaudible mumble. you could barely even register what he said at first because it was so hushed, but toji gruffs in a low tone. “i … love you..”

“h- huh?”

scoffing, he hides the burning embarrassed flush against his face by pulling you into his broad chest. you giggle at how he just abruptly snatches you close into his warm body before he slings a beefy arm around you. “i said, let’s uh.. do our skin care together later t’night.”

“awww i love you too toj—”

“oh my god, s-shut up..”

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[igbylicious]

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt13

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: San goes on a little journey of self-discovery with you.

wc: 14k

ch. warnings: sub San, switch / dom reader & Wooyoung, like 5 sec of manhandling & dryhumping, shibari / bondage, praise kink, body worship, cock-warming, orgasm denial, finger sucking, oral, dacryphilia, DVP (fingers & cock), creampie, cum play, Wooyoung fucks San’s tiddies, cum shot (on those same tiddies), multiple orgasms, condomless sex w/ an IUD, San is called ‘good boy’, reader is called ‘baby’ & ‘good girl’, one encounter of amatonormativity from a well-intentioned neighbour, potential second-hand embarrassment

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

“Pick me, I’m tasty!” the little raccoon dog mascot on the instant noodles package says to you, in an adorably pitchy sing-song voice. San pokes his face out from behind the package, his open-mouthed smile so wide and bright he almost looks like a cartoon character himself.

You giggle at San’s antics, though you ignore the packet in his hands and reach for a different flavour from the store’s shelves. “Cute! But no; Wooyoung asked for this one,” you say, holding up the extra spicy variant.

“That’s what Wooyoung asked for, yes,” San pouts, reverting back to his normal voice, “but he always steals mine and leaves the hot ones for me. He can buy them himself if he wants them, I’m not doing this anymore! My mouth has burned enough.”

“Fine fine, this is a lovers’ quarrel I’m not getting involved in,” you laugh at San’s impassioned speech. “If he complains, I’m telling him it’s your fault!”

And so only the mildest of instant noodles end up in your cart before you go through the rest of the store. The separation between your groceries and those of San and Wooyoung grows blurrier with every trip; Wooyoung didn’t even ask if you were joining them for dinner, only how you felt about beef bibimbap for tonight.

It’s busy at the store today, meaning there’s a bit of a line for the cash registry. Bored by the wait, San toys with the strings of his hoodie. He fiddles with them for a while, then pulls the strings taut until the hoodie hides all but a glimpse of his face, his nose peeking out along with a tiny feline grin on his lips.

At first you just fondly watched him — but now you can’t resist temptation. You steal the strings away from San to tie them into a tight knot, trapping him in his hoodie.

“Ack!” San yelps, startled and pawing at your hands to get back control of the strings.

Giggling, you take mercy on him and undo the knot again. “Sorry, guess I’m in the mood to practice a little more ropework today,” you joke, taking off San’s hood and fixing a few upright tufts of his hair.

“Oh, are you now?” he says, his indignant sulk only tempting you to do it again. “Starting to regret I taught you anything at all. You have way too much power now.”

“The power of tying a simple knot?!” you laugh. “Don’t take too much credit, mister, I didn’t need you to teach me that one!”

But San has been teaching you. Eagerly, even.

From the moment you expressed an interest, San happily jumped on the chance to pass on his knowledge of bondage. He does teach for a living, after all; and though ropework is obviously a far cry from taekwondo, he instructed you with the same enthusiasm that he has for his students.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung happily volunteered himself as a practice subject. Sometimes he’d nag at you, so used to San’s skilful fingers that yours set off his impatience — but for the most part, Wooyoung proved unexpectedly useful, his candid feedback making it easier to get a feel for judging rope tension.

And although you’d first meant it as a joke to tease San, now you do actually feel an itch in your fingers.“So… could we? Practise some more today?” you ask, lowering your voice, keeping your words vague on purpose, although none of the staff or other customers are paying you any mind.

“Today?” San says, lines crinkling between his brows. “Ah, I don’t know, Wooyoung will be out to the movies with Yeosang later…”

“He’s going without you?” you ask, distracted by the new piece of information. “What, have you been hoarding Sangie too much to yourself again?”

San’s bottom lip juts into a pout. “I don’t hoard him, I’m just not into the movie!” he protests, so earnestly that you wonder if he really believes it, or if he’s forgotten about the time you saw him clinging onto Wooyoung’s childhood friend for an entire game night, stubborn in his attempts to lay a smooch on Yeosang’s cheek.

(Yeosang’s dramatic aversion to his friends’ kisses always gets a giggle out of you. He can’t fool you; you know from experience that San and Wooyoung would cut it out if he really minded it that much.)

“Though I guess we don’t need Woo,” San muses, smoothly turning the subject away from the Yeosang-hoarding allegations. “You could try some stuff on yourself, feel first-hand what you’re doing.”

“…Or I could practice on you…?” you suggest, half playful, half probing.

San blinks in surprise, like the thought had not occurred to him — but the conversation is put on a temporary halt when it’s your turn to check out your groceries. He frowns while packing everything up, thoughtful but also tentative, like it’s the first time he’s ever even considered to let someone tie him up.

San’s frown has faded by the time you step out of the store, but he still has a quiet, contemplative look on his face.

“No pressure, obviously,” you say, nudging his arm with your elbow. “About the practice thing. It was just a thought.”

“No no! It’s…” San shakes his head and gives you a small grin. “You know what? Let’s try it. Put your knowledge to the test!”

“Right,” you grin back at him, a little spring in your step as you walk back home together. There’s a gleam in San’s eyes too, growing brighter as he gets more and more used to the idea of trying something new with you.

It’s just a short walk back to the apartment building, where you come across your downstairs neighbour at the elevator; Mrs Yoon, a tiny old lady carrying a package that looks far too big and heavy for her.

San, ever the gentleman, immediately passes one of his grocery bags over to you and takes the box from Mrs Yoon.

“Always such a nice, helpful boy,” she coos over San, tip-toeing to reach and pinch his cheek. Mrs Yoon somewhat resembles a shrivelled apple, small and round and wrinkled — but any conversation proves that she’s still got plenty of juice left in her.

“Does he take such good care of you too?” she asks you, a playful glint in her eyes. “I’m sure he does, I can tell he’s great… ‘Boyfriend material’, that’s the word you young folk use nowadays, isn’t it?”

You flinch briefly, but recover fast. It’s not like this is the first time people have made assumptions about you and San, or you and Wooyoung. Hell, you and Hongjoong used to deal with this too. Through necessity you have cultivated a certain degree of resigned patience for these situations.

Still, it was long enough that San beats you to the punch, shaking his head at Mrs Yoon with a friendly smile. “No, Mrs Yoon, I’m—” he starts, but hesitates when a clear alternative fails to present itself.

It doesn’t matter anyway; she easily breezes past San’s protest. “And the other handsome young man, of course! I had not forgotten, don’t worry,” she says with a cheeky grin of joyful wrinkles, her giggle like a reedy cackle. “I heard the three of you spending your time together well.”

San’s cheeks go completely beet red, for a split-second you’re confused by his embarrassment — but then it sinks in what Mrs Yoon meant by having ‘heard’ you.

She heard you, just like you used to hear San and Wooyoung.

You stammer an apology, but she waves it off. “Oh hush,” she says firmly. “I was young once too, I know what it’s like. Good on you kids, you need to enjoy it while you can! It’s alright to have a little extra fun.”

The elevator dings as it reaches Mrs Yoon’s floor, and San almost trips over his feet as he walks her to her apartment to take the heavy package inside. You awkwardly wait for him to get back, embarrassment still flowing hotly in your veins. San does not look much better off when he shuffles back into the elevator, wordlessly taking back the grocery bag he passed over to you earlier so he could help your old, lively neighbour.

He clears his throat, trying for an easygoing grin. “For the record, I have been informed that Mrs Yoon very much enjoys the silence when she turns her hearing aid off, and doesn’t mind doing so at all.”

“Oh god,” you groan, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in your hands — except maybe sink through the elevator floor, letting yourself plummet straight to the bottom and down into the very core of the earth.

“At least she’s cool about non-monogamy?” San tries for a crooked smile, though redness still blooms across his cheeks. “Though I guess she only has half the right idea of us.”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, still mulling on San’s earlier moment of speechlessness.

San frowns, concern gleaming in his eyes at your timid response. “You okay?” he asks; San is not unbothered by assumptions about the three of you either, but he knows they hit a little differently for you.

“Oh, yeah, yes I’m okay. I’m used to this stuff,” you say, and part of you hates how true that is. “It just kinda hit me that I don’t know what the ‘right’ idea about us is. Or how to put it into words, at least. We never really bothered to define much, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” he says, opening the door to his apartment. “…I thought you preferred it that way? Not trying too hard to fit ourselves into a label?”

“True, true,” you admit, stepping inside. (You faintly hear Wooyoung’s voice from the living area.) “And I still don’t want to force anything. It’s just… inconvenient sometimes, you know.”

How would you describe San and Wooyoung? Your friends? Well, yes, but you don’t feel like that covers the full scope of things in this context. Partners? Too… formal. Definitely not your boyfriends. No matter what word pops up in your head, it chafes; nothing fits as smoothly as a simple ‘your San’ and ‘your Wooyoung’.

San glances over his shoulder as he hauls the grocery bags into the living area, raising an eyebrow at you. “Inconvenient for us, or inconvenient for other people?” he asks pointedly. “If we’re happy with how we do things, or what we call them, it’s not our problem if others get confused.”

You blink at San. “…Damn. Good point.”

“I make those sometimes!”

“Of course, some people try their damn best to turn it into our problem.”

“Shush. Don’t take this away from me,” San chides, but he quiets when he realises Wooyoung is talking to someone on video call. Wooyoung gives you a distracted wave, but stays focused on his conversation. Something about his most recent crafts project, customising an old jacket.

“Yeah, I saw the pictures, it looks good, I like how you placed the lettering,” the voice from Wooyoung’s phone says — and you break out into a smile when you recognise that voice, all else forgotten.

“Joong!” you say, wrapping a loose arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders as you slide up behind him, stoked to see your oldest friend on the screen. He’s currently rocking cranberry red hair, matched with a grungy blazer, and grins when he sees you.

You embrace this chance for a brief but lively surprise meeting, always missing Hongjoong; even if he did come over for a visit just a few weeks ago.

During that time, he and Wooyoung rapidly developed the type of friendship where you’re not always sure if Hongjoong adores Wooyoung to absolute bits, or if he wants to stick him behind the wallpaper. (Though today clearly is an adoration day.) San is still a little quiet around Hongjoong, anxious for approval from your best friend, so he shyly hangs around in the back while you and Wooyoung chat/bicker with Hongjoong.

It’s not too long before the call ends, some work schedule thing forcing Hongjoong to leave. Work has kept him real busy lately, and you quietly resolve to send him a little care package this week.

Once Hongjoong disappears from his phone’s screen, Wooyoung turns to you.

“What was that talk earlier when you guys came back? Sounded kinda serious. Were you overthinking again?”

“I wasn’t overthi—! …Okay, yeah fine maybe I was,” you admit.

“About what?”

“Labels,” San pipes up from the kitchenette. “Hey, you gonna help me out here?”

“Sorry, yeah!” You join San to properly finish up the chore of grocery shopping together, and smile when you find one packet of spicy noodles between the milder ones as you put them away.

Wooyoung’s face wrinkles up. “You were overthinking labels? I thought you were on my side about those.”

(Like you, Wooyoung also does not feel a strong need to confine your relationship within strict definitions. San is the most traditional-minded out of your trio when it comes to these things; but he values happiness over conformity a million times over, content to let the issue rest for your and Wooyoung’s comfort.)

“I am, I am!” you say. “Mrs Yoon just punted me into a five-second long spiral when she pretty much called San my boyfriend and we didn’t know how to correct her. I’ve unspiralled already, I swear! Crisis over before it even started.”

“No, fair enough,” Wooyoung allows. “‘My non-romantic life partner who I fuck on the regular’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?”

“Nope. But…” You trail off, recognising an opportunity to smoothly slide into a topic that crossed your mind recently. “‘My neighbour’ is also technically correct, I suppose,” you say cheekily, smiling when San instantly grouses at the distant, casual term, “but who’s to say we’ll be neighbours forever? I mean, it’d be cool to at least upgrade to ‘roommates’ someday, right?”

For a split moment, the guys are struck silent by the suggestion. Not that long ago, it would’ve been enough to punt you into another five-second spiral, fretting whether you massively misjudged the situation — but it’s not enough anymore. You’re steadier than that by now, secure in your place within this barely-defined relationship.

And surely a gradual smile breaks out on Wooyoung’s face like in slow-motion, his eyes shining in delight. You let out an ‘umph’ when two strong arms suddenly wrap around you from behind, San’s reassuring weight settling against you.

“Yeah. That’d be cool,” San murmurs as he pulls you firmly into him, pressing his cheek against the side of your head.

“Hadn’t expected you to be the one to bring that up,” Wooyoung says, his teasing grin undermined by the softness drawn into his face.

You lean back into San with a little scoff, rolling your eyes half-playfully, half-serious. “Hey c’mon, stop acting like I’ll bolt at the tiniest whiff of commitment! I’ve proven enough by now that you guys are stuck with me, right?”

“Okay okay,” San says with a laugh, “we’ll try to stop treating you like a flight risk! It’s just— Me and Woo talked about this like, a few days ago.”

“Pff, ‘talked’?” Wooyoung huffs, coming over to put an arm around San, who still has his arms around you. “What San means is he picked a fight with me about it.”

“A fight?!” You turn your head to look back at them, blinking in confusion.

“A real stupid one too!”

“Hey, don’t say it like that, she’s gonna get the wrong idea!” San protests. “It was just a misunderstanding is all!”

“Guys…”

“All I said was that the apartment is feeling a bit small these days, that next time we should look for something bigger, a better fit for us!” Wooyoung sighs. “There I was, trying to throw you a hint, but you just started sulking and grumbling at me like I’d already packed my bags to move out and abandon her the next day!”

“Really?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face at San’s abashed disgruntlement.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “He got so cross at the idea of not being neighbours that he didn’t even bother to actually listen to what I was saying. Why do you think the apartment felt too damn small, you idiot?”

“Just didn’t sit right with me,” San mumbles. “The idea of not living next to each other. Or with each other. Not being close.”

“Which is why I brought it up,” Wooyoung says, poking at San’s cheek. “I thought we should talk about it before becomes a thing.” His eyes flicker to you, seriousness smoothing over his face. “So yeah, you beat us to the punch. It’s not like I’m in a rush or got it all planned out or anything, I mean I just moved here, but… I don’t know, did we get lazy? About us, about figuring stuff out?”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you listen to them, but Wooyoung’s question brings you a little closer back down to earth.

“Maybe? Yeah, maybe we did get complacent,” you admit. Nothing wrong with not labelling things but… “We never really bothered to sit down and talk things through after the whole ‘hey, let’s stick together for a long time’ talk, yeah. Never talked about what that actually looks like.”

“We were too busy enjoying the moment to think ahead, yeah,” San says with a breathy chuckle, clutching a little tighter onto you.

“To be fair,” Wooyoung says, a grin returning to his lips, “the moments have been pretty damn great. So… does that settle it? Next place we move into, we move in together? Something nice and a little bigger, with an extra bedroom so you got your own space?”

“For someone who doesn’t have it all planned out, you sure put a lot of thought into it,” you giggle, reaching a hand to find Wooyoung’s. “Yeah. That settles it.”

“So. You got upset at the thought of not living next to me, huh?” You give San a cheeky grin, unable to resist teasing him about earlier. “That’s cute.”

You’re both kneeling on his bed, some soft music playing in the background. Dressed for comfort, San is wearing his grey sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt — and you just finished tying a rope around his wrists, after he took you through a refresher of some basics. San was in the middle of diligently inspecting your work, but your teasing has knocked him straight out of teacher mode, into pouty mode.

“Shut up, Wooyoung wasn’t as obvious about his ‘hints’ as he made it sound,” he sulks. He looks back down on the rope, then gives you a heavy side-eye. “…Did you wait on purpose to make fun of me until I was tied up?”

“No way, I’d never make fun of you for being cute,” you say matter-of-factly.

San squints suspiciously at your tone, trying to figure out if you are, in fact, making fun of him again.

“Okay but seriously, does this feel alright?” you ask, squeezing his bound hands. San had stayed mostly quiet when you tied him up; you don’t need much instruction anymore for basic knots — but you did catch a few steadying breaths from him, the bondage clearly having some effect on San.

“It’s… different,” he says hesitantly.

“Need me to take them off?” you ask at once, ready to pry the knot loose, but San shakes his head.

“No, no, they can stay on. It just—” San frowns, struggling for words. “It’s just not my usual thing,” he eventually settles on. “Letting go of control… It’s not exactly my strong point.”

“Ah, so this is not just practice for me, but for you too!” you tease, but you rub a reassuring thumb over his knuckles as you do so. Curiosity nags at you, and you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind ever since you first suggested using him as your guinea pig. “…Is this your first time getting tied up?”

“I used to practice on myself, way back, but other than that? Yeah, first time.” San chuckles at your contemplative expression. “What’s with that face? It can’t be a surprise that a dom doesn’t get tied up on the regular, can it?”

You shrug. “I mean, you’re usually in charge, yeah; being submissive is clearly not your go-to. But never? I don’t know, the few times we mixed things up… you enjoyed it, right? Like the morning after I stayed over? You can’t tell me you weren’t into getting spoiled like that!”

San gives a little head-tilt, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “I was,” he allows with a tiny smile, bursting with memories. “It… it’s nice when I really need it, I guess.”

His answer churns inside you for a moment, and you mislike the way it settles in your stomach. It’s true; San rarely is submissive unless stress or exhaustion has gotten to him.

“Um, San? Listen, I won’t push anything on you,” you say, carefully, feeling especially cognisant of the fact you have him tied up with nowhere to go. “But… you know you don’t have to need it, right? I’m more than happy to switch things up when you want to. Same for Wooyoung, I’m sure!”

San goes quiet, looking down at his bound wrists like he’s searching for some epiphany in the place where rope presses against his skin.

You smile faintly, and raise a soft hand to cup his cheek. “Just think about it, alright? No wrong answers.”

San’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles into your palm. He sighs, something releasing inside him. Letting go of just a tiny scrap of control, maybe.

“Want to take it off now?” you ask, and untie the knot when San nods quietly.

“…I did like the feel of the rope,” San admits after you finish, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. “I… I liked how it felt to have someone else put it on me.”

A sweet, gentle bloom swells up inside you. “I’m glad,” you smile back at San. “I liked practising on you.”

“Maybe,” he starts slowly, giving you a bashful look like he’s embarrassed by what he is about to say next, “maybe we don’t need to be done practising? Do you want to try something else?”

Now there’s an offer you can hardly refuse.

San’s suggestion is a little more complex than a simple restriction of the wrists, so you go and grab him some water while he pulls up a few visual references on his phone to show you what the end-goal looks like. When you step back into the bedroom, San has pulled off his t-shirt, waiting for you with a dimpled smile and his bare upper body at your disposal.

There is always something magnetic about San’s impressive physique; but now the musculature draws you in more than ever, knowing you’ll be working so closely to it, demanding your full attention.

“Show-off,” you mumble, rolling your eyes like you aren’t fighting off heat rising to your cheeks.

“What, want me to put my shirt back on?” San asks, his smile curving into a cocky grin.

“…No.”

With the matter of San’s shirt settled, you sink back into the ropework together.

You get why San likes it. The shared intimacy, drawing closer to one another with every hitch or knot. The focused methodology behind it, how the world seems to disappear into nothing but the rope in your hands and the person you use it on, allowing all else to fade from your mind. You’ve always felt there is something meditative about the act of being tied up, but now you realise the reversal is also true.

After all your previous practising, you start to fall into a trained rhythm; you used to get frustrated with your own clumsiness, but now your fingers mostly remember what they are supposed to do.

Still, this new endeavour is a little trickier than a simple cuff around the wrists and so San speaks up more often, guiding you through the steps;

“Careful with placement, we don’t want to pinch anything here. Yes, yes that’s good, Pull the pressure down, we’re always going down the arm. That’s it, you got it. Little tighter. Yep, little more. Don’t be scared the cinch is too much, I’ll tell you if there’s a problem.”

A few simple lines of rope are laid around the width of San’s upper torso, hugging his pecs and providing a basis for you to work a ladder tie down the length of his arm. As you relax into the looping pattern, so does San. He falls quiet again, drawing deep, slow breaths as he intently follows the movement of your hands, his eyes gleaming with cat-like curiosity.

When you finish the first of San’s arms, tying the last hitch above his wrist and locking off the rope, you draw back a little to fully take in the result.

It’s interesting; bondage often has a way of making Wooyoung look smaller than he is, like all his boundless energy is snugly contained within the corded restraints. But for San, it’s the polar opposite.

The shibari accentuates the broadness of his chest and shoulders; his muscles bulge under the looping pattern whenever he moves, like he is bursting at the seams. Heated pressure builds in your abdomen at the sight of him, then your eyes wander down to San’s wrist.

There’s a fair bit of tail end to the rope, dangling down his wrist as leftover after that last hitch — and you’d worried it would take away from the aesthetics of the shibari, but instead the length of rope lures you in, whispering for you to grab the end and pull, tugging San closer to you. To test the power he emits; whether he would submit regardless of physical strength.

“Still got another arm to go,” San reminds you, a teasing glint in his eyes at how distracted you are by his appearance. But his voice is low and husky, your distracted state also causing a sharp heat to coil tightly inside him.

Though you still make sure to be safe and precise, the brush of your fingers over San’s other arm is not as relaxed this time around.

The heat radiating from his skin somehow feels warmer than before, his gaze burning into your hands as you work. San’s breaths grow heavier with every corded loop around his arm, and he is visibly antsy by the time you finish up at his wrist — and now you don’t resist your earlier urges. With a playful grin, you take both ends of the rope in your hands and give them a soft tug, just to tease.

San grunts as you pull him in closer, fiery intensity crackling around him, and the grin is wiped right off your face when he bites his lip, hooded eyes piercing straight through you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, shifting your thighs and all too aware of the wetness gathering between them, “Wooyoung’d go crazy if he saw you right now.”

(You distantly wonder what time it is; how much longer until Wooyoung steps back out that cinema. There’s decent odds he’ll head straight home, knowing you and San are practising without him.)

San’s lips curve sharply. “Yeah? I look hot like this?” he baits.

“Ugh, you are so needy,” you say, but the flustered laugh in your voice belies the reprimand. “Yes, you look good. Wooyoung would fold within the blink of an eye.” (You would fold even faster.) “He better get home soon, he’s gonna be so fucking upset if he misses out on this.”

“Serves him right for being such a damn brat lately,” San huffs, though there is an eager twinkle in his eyes.

“Don’t be like that!” You shake your head with another laugh, then move off the bed and beckon San onto his feet. “Come, see for yourself how hot you look.”

Still holding onto the rope-ends at San’s wrists, you lead him towards the mirror, and San follows with a slow smile. He barely even spares his own reflection a glance, too distracted by your hands, the subtle control emitted by your loose grip on the rope.

His fingers twitch, and then San catches you by surprise by yanking his own hands back, throwing you off balance. You release the rope with a squeak and stumble forward — but before you can bump into San, his hands find your hips and you let out a soft ‘umph’ as he pins you against the wall, the mirror now completely ignored.

“Don’t need to see,” San breathes, his chest pressing up against yours. “Can tell plain as day from your reaction.” Even through your clothes you can feel the press of rope and warmth radiating off of him. It’s like you’re caged in by a wall of heat, his fingers solidly pressing into your waist. San leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as his gaze flutters down to your lips, his head tilting ever so slightly. The intent to kiss is more than obvious, but San waits, leaving that final step to you.

Your head is in a daze, still a little stunned from the sudden switch-up. Then again, it’s not like you didn’t notice how worked up San got from this little experiment — hell, the dampness already soaking through your panties is proof you’ve gotten plenty worked up yourself.

“Yes,” you gasp in answer to his silent question. You can’t remember raising your hand, but suddenly your fingers are tangled into San’s hair and you pull him forward, bridging that tiny gap between your mouths.

He groans lowly, his tongue instantly probing to tease your lips apart into a messy, urgent kiss. You hang onto San for dear life as he kisses you senseless against the wall, every ounce of pent up energy released all at once. He whines into your mouth when you grab onto his ass, at which he roughly grinds into you, guiding you to hook a leg around his waist. The growing hardness of his cock sends sparks through your clothed cunt, and you rut back into him in equal measure, encouraging more whines past his lips.

San’s hands slip underneath your shirt, only breaking the kiss to quickly discard it, and then he is back on you. He is everywhere it feels like, his touch roaming over your heated body, the cords across his arms and torso grazing over your bra and bare skin. You palm at his chest, at the swell of his tits emphasised by the rope you laid there yourself, thumbing at his dark nipples and delighting in the small, desperate noises San makes against your mouth.

“Can you—?” he groans, plying your neck with wet kisses. “Fuck, please— I— I want—”

“S-slow down, Sannie,” you gasp, putting your hands on his waist to steady the roll of his hips. “What is it? Tell me, tell me what you want.”

He whines into your neck, teeth catching against skin, but the desirous fog lifts slightly from San when you cup his cheek and lift him to meet your gaze. He smiles faintly at the eye-contact, fondness melting into his features. His cheeks are flushed — and you are startled to realise it’s not just from arousal. San is self-conscious.

“Want you to tie me up,” he mutters, his eyes breaking away from yours as he presses a tiny kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Wanna try it again.”

You blink in surprise, backing away from his lips. “Wait, like tied up tied up? San, are you sure?”

San slowly catches his breath, forcing himself to look you in the eye again. “So fucking sure,” he says, his thumbs drawing slow circles into your waist. “Let’s try it, I trust you. …Besides, it’ll keep us busy until Wooyoung gets back, right?”

“God, you are such a softie,” you laugh breathlessly, amused at how quickly he changed his tune about Wooyoung. “What happened to ‘serves him right’? No conviction whatsoever.”

“Yeah,” he grins, giving a slow roll of his hips. “What are you gonna do about it? Teach me some?”

Fuck. Inviting San to take on a more submissive role had not been entirely selfless on your part — you can’t deny your own excitement over this turn of events — but you had offered it with zero pressure; and definitely no expectation that San might take you up on it the very same evening.

“Hang on, Sannie,” you slow him down again, tempering the heat of the moment. You don’t want him barging face-first into something like this without thinking it through. “You really are sure?”

San’s grin fades into something more serious, giving you the distinct impression he started thinking this through ever since you suggested practising on him back at the grocery store. “Yeah. I’m sure if you’re sure,” he says, looking over you for signs of hesitation on your side.

“Oh, I’m sure!” (In your case, you know for a fact you’ve thought this through ever since that conversation.)

“Good,” he says, cheeks dimpling. “I want this. I want to try this with you.”

The persuasive power of San’s dimples is the final nudge that seals the deal. San brightens with delight when you grab his hand and pull him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down. You have a brief talk about the exact whats and hows; but it’s immediately obvious that you’re on the same wavelength.

(But first you send Wooyoung a vague text, implying it’d be better he doesn’t bring Yeosang over to the apartment for drinks after the movie showing, just in case. He replies quickly, leading you to suspect the movie has already finished, and you answer his 👀 with a short but simple “it’s a secret 🤭”. It’s a lot more civilised than the way you and Wooyoung had clued San in a while back, which San points out with a huff, but you gently shush him and set to work.)

San’s breath shallows as you push him flat down on his back, then spread his arms to tie him to the bedposts. His voice slightly hoarse, San talks you through adjusting the ladder-ties over the length of his arms, making sure they’re still comfortable in the changed position, while he follows your every move with soulful eyes, trying not to fidget.

“Relax,” you murmur after you’re finished, stroking San’s cheek to smooth away his jittery energy. “I got you. Gonna take care of you.”

There is a strange hush in the room as San nods quietly in response, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows in anticipation. “I know. I’m not nervous,” he says, sighing when you softly kiss his forehead. “I’m just a bit… nervous. But not like that, you know? Like—”

“You know what you are? Rambling,” you laugh fondly, and leave another soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles back at you, his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.”

“Hm-hm,” you hum, shaking your head. “Don’t be. You’re just really cute today.”

The rosy flush across San’s cheeks intensifies, proving your point.

“And also,” you say, straddling San so you can drape yourself over his prone, helpless body, “hot as fuck.”

He groans when you press your lips against his, tongues intertwining messily as you deepen the kiss. You’re both still partially clothed, but you will rectify that later. Just want to take your time easing San into it first.

Shudders run through him at even the lightest touch, your fingers teasing along the lengths of rope across his torso, delighting in how he arches up to chase you. Soon any remnants of San’s tension have melted away, pleasure rippling through him wherever your hands go.

San whines when your mouth breaks away from his, kiss-swollen lips pouting up at you, but the sound turns into ragged gasps when you suck a wet path down the freckles on his neck. You briefly nip at the mole on his collarbone, then trail further downward.

He hisses a quiet curse as your tongue flicks over a pebbled nipple, your hands grazing so lightly over his stomach that he twitches underneath. The distinct definition of his abs has faded, ever since he switched up his gym routine a while back.

Honestly, you like it this way. You like feeling the softness of him underneath your palms, and what it signifies.

San might be one of those rare types who genuinely enjoys a rigorous workout — but he has complained his fair share about the strife of maintaining a sixpack. Now it’s like he has relaxed a little, prioritising his own preferences over any attempts to impress you or Wooyoung. Trusting that he impresses just by being himself, following his own way.

Small sighs and moans are steadily escaping past San’s lips, his hands clenching and releasing uselessly as he itches to reach out and touch you back. Clearly his nervous-not-nerves have settled… which means you can start teasing him.

“Let’s get these off, shall we,” you demand, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.

San eagerly lifts his hips to help you, exposing his half-hard dick to your touch. Even after all this time, you bite your lip in appreciation at the sight of him, thick and slightly curved, warm but dry in your palm. You lean down, working your jaw for a thick globule of spit to fix that problem. San groans lowly when your fingers curl around the base of his cock and your tongue darts out, slathering him with slow, messy strokes until he is glistening and hard.

You relish San’s hitched breaths, the tilt of his hips as he arches into you. “Ahh fuck, feels good…” he gasps when you lap at his slit, shifting restlessly at your languid pace. He rocks up against your mouth lavishing his hardening cock, trying to convince you to take him inside — but you are in control today, and you have other plans.

San’s hips jerk when your mouth abandons his cock to press a kiss on his thigh, the moan escaping past his lips loud.

“Hm, n-no c’mon, baby—” he whines, hips bucking up as his eyes squeeze shut, a tear clinging to his lashes.

Your eyes widen at the intensity of his response, sending a searing pulse straight down your abdomen. You run a soothing hand over his leg, but the light touch only makes him antsier, body contorting in a desperate attempt to get you back where he needs you. “Fuck, just look at you…” you say in a quiet hush, your thumb rubbing circles over a trio of moles on his inner thigh. “Still doing okay, Sannie?”

The question sobers him up, but only a little, his eyes still dazed with need. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, abashed, like he too is surprised by his own intensity.

“Fuck no, don’t be,” you assure him with a breathy chuckle, rubbing your thighs together restlessly in an attempt to relieve your own tension. “I like seeing you like this. Fucking gorgeous.”

The beautiful flush on his face has crept down his neck and chest, giving him a feverish glow. Muscles ripple underneath the rope harness as he squirms against his bound wrists; all his strength rendered useless, caged underneath you.

San groans at the praise, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut like he can’t withstand the force of your reverent gaze — but it doesn’t help him to escape your touch, gentle fingers also expressing their reverence of him as they wrap around his leaking cock again.

Hunger gnaws at you, craving to ravish San until he can’t take it anymore, until he has nothing left to give, every last ounce of pleasure wrested from his body. The glide of your palm over his thick length is easy now, but you keep a deliberate, unhurried pace to slowly drive San up the wall. His small moans and hiccuped breaths send sparks of heat through you. Arousal joined by awe and gratitude; that San lets you see him, have him, like this.

It’s when a lone tear finally escapes San’s lashes that you can’t stand it anymore, breaking away to haphazardly shuck off your clothes. San watches the uncovering of bare skin in a haze, eyes heavy-lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lips when you smoothly unclip your bra and throw it aside. His hands flex instinctively as you take a moment to knead at your breasts, reminding him of what he can’t touch.

“Please…” San begs, and his eyes glimmer so sweetly that your resolve to tease him crumbles. There is no denying that soft expression.

San lets out a groan of excitement when you shift forward and lean down. Eagerly he latches onto your chest, suckling and nipping at the soft flesh with noisy enthusiasm, lips smacking wetly as he cranes his neck to smother himself between your breasts. You shudder at his fervour, shakily carding your fingers through his hair in encouragement.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy,” you moan. “Making me feel so good, fuck.” You kiss the top of his head, gasping when he mouths harshly at your nipple, growing rough in his sweet worship. It’s a limited window of opportunity you have given him and San uses it with purpose, devouring as much of you as he can.

You indulge him for a moment longer, indulge yourself, until it is time to remind San who is in charge. He whines when you pull away, trying to follow after the softness of your chest — but the ropes binding him to the bedposts pull taut. San groans in exasperation, like he had forgotten his current predicament entirely, too lost in the pleasure of pleasing you.

“N-no, wanna—” he starts, you put a silencing finger on his lips.

“Behave for me, hm? Can you do that?”

San whines, shifting restlessly underneath you, but he slowly quiets down. “I— I’ll behave,” he says, desperation glittering in his gaze as he looks up at you.

“Good,” you hum, pecking his nose before you rise up and settle back down on his thighs.

Already he looks half-way wrecked, his damp hair mussed up and a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin. His cock is flushed a deep, dark red, resting in a wet patch on his stomach where precum oozes from the tip. Just a light touch of your hand is enough to make San hiss sharply, and the tremors through his body are a clear warning sign of how close he is already. Slowly you push him further, pumping him with firm strokes.

San’s hips jerk up before he can catch himself, his resolve to behave immediately tested. He swears under his breath, pitiful moans spilling past his lips as he manages to regain himself — moans that turn absolutely wretched when he sees how your free hand dips down between your thighs.

You sigh blissfully as you push two fingers inside. They’re sucked in so very easily, your cunt sopping wet without a single touch; to play with San like this is already enough. His breath picks up fast, eyes rolling back at the squelching noises from your hands working in tandem. Every heave of his chest is laboured, his back arching up prettily for you as his moans grow in pitch.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t— M-more, need more,” he whines, futilely tugging at the ropes.

“So greedy,” you say, a slow grin on your lips. “Is my hand not enough for you? You need my cunt too?”

San groans, frustrated and desperate. He’s truly feeling that lack of control by now, unable to reach out and grab your waist. Any other day he would bounce you helplessly on his cock or to flip you over entirely, fucking you so deep and hard you feel him for days after.

But right now? San can’t do any of those things. Instead he’s reduced to a powerless sulk, his thighs twitching underneath you. “Unfair,” he mumbles weakly, his bottom lip sticking out petulantly at your refusal to just give him what he wants.

“Unfair? Are you saying I’m a mean dom?” You gasp in faux-affront, releasing his cock to raise your fingers to your lips, smearing them accidentally-on-purpose with the salty glisten of precum.

He whines at the loss of your hand, trying to buck his hips. “J-just wanna be inside you…”

“Ahh… Well, if that is what you want…” you hum, and languidly slide forward to reposition yourself. San chokes on a moan when you hold onto the base of his cock, find the right angle, and then sink down. You suck in a sharp breath at the sudden pressure on your walls, stretching you open; two of your fingers are not quite enough to properly loosen yourself up for the girth of San’s thick length — but you welcome the burn, savour how your body is forced to adjust itself to San, gradually accommodating to the shape of him inside your cunt.

“F-fuck, so tight, so fucking—” San rasps, his hands clenching into fists so tight the knuckles whiten. He twitches inside you, tension pulled so taut that for a moment you think he’s going to cum on the spot, but somehow San pulls himself back from the brink.

“Good boy,” you purr, bracing one hand on San’s flushed, heaving chest so you can use the other to wipe his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “Doing so well for me.”

Your fingers trail down the side of his face and to your surprise, San turns his head to suck them into his mouth. He noisily slurps around them with teary eyes, his pleading look shooting straight down to your stuffed cunt. You swallow hard as San’s tongue laves your fingers in wet heat, a messy trail of spittle trickling down his chin when you pull your hand away.

Glistening with San’s saliva, your fingers slide easily through your folds to find your clit. You sigh in bliss as you leisurely rub at the sensitive nub, drinking how San squirms and gasps with every clench around his throbbing cock. His watery eyes are transfixed by the slippery swirl of your fingerpads, unable to look away.

However, even in his hazy state, San quickly realises you’re not actually moving. “H-hey—”

“Uh-uh,” you hum in warning when his hips buck, lightly pinching his nipple. “No rushing things today, Sannie. Thought you wanted me to keep you busy until Wooyoung gets back.”

San groans as he tries to buck again, but unable to get proper leverage. “Baby, we don’t even know when he’s coming home to us,” he whines.

“True, true,” you admit, though your earlier text probably did plenty to sway Wooyoung towards a quick return. “But there’s an easy way to check that.”

You’re careful not to let San slip out of your wet cunt while you reach for your phone, inspired by your recent shenanigans with Wooyoung. But despite being the one who is in the room with you this time, somehow San plays the part of your victim yet again.

San seems to realise the same thing. “You are a mean dom,” he says, an admonishing look on his flushed face. “You better give Woo a hard time, you owe me that mu—”

“You better stay quiet,” you interrupt him with a grin. “What if Yeosang is still there, hm? Wouldn’t want him to overhear anything… untoward.”

He whines again, pulling against his bindings. “Why am I always the one getting bullied?” he protests, like he never bullies you (and especially Wooyoung) when he’s in charge. “You really enjoy tormenting me that much?”

“What I enjoy, is seeing you pout,” you tease him, truthfully, and unlock your phone to call Wooyoung.

San sighs in exasperation, biting his lip to try and rob you of that beloved pout; but he only manages for a split-second before it’s right back on his face. The endearing sight bubbles warmly in your chest, yet the futility of his protest sparks heat between your thighs. As much as you’re trying to draw this all out, you’re slowly losing the battle to sit still on his cock — and the excitement that crackles through you as you wait for Wooyoung to answer his phone doesn’t help.

Wooyoung picks up, and immediately gets down to business. “What’s the secret?” he demands impatiently.

You giggle at his eagerness, deliberately keeping the call off speaker so San only hears your side of the conversation. “Telling you would kinda defeat the point, wouldn’t it? Where are you?”

There’s barely any background noise, leaving you confused over his current location. Wooyoung wouldn’t have picked up this quick if he was still with Yeosang, but clearly he isn’t out on the streets or riding public transportation either.

Wooyoung chuckles. “Where am I? Hmm… it’s a secret.”

He says it with such an air of mystery that you blink and look over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing in the doorway — and immediately feel silly when no one’s there, obviously. You would’ve heard Wooyoung’s voice if he was already in the room with you.

“Funny. Is that a ‘I’m five minutes away’ secret or a ‘go to bed without me, we’ll see each other in the morning’ secret?” you ask, squeezing around San just to be a menace. He visibly strains to keep quiet, face contorted as he bites down a whine.

“Oh, we’ll see each other soon I think,” Wooyoung hums, and you faintly hear what sounds like his footsteps through the phone. “So, spill. What is it? Did you finally get a strap?”

“Fuck.” This time, the squeeze of your walls around San’s is entirely involuntary, and a tiny whimper finds its way past his lips.

“Gonna take that as a ‘no’. Also… speaking of where people are, how about Sannie?” Wooyoung asks. (You wonder if he heard the noise.) “Is this secret a solo endeavour or is he around somewhere?”

“He’s… busy,” you grin. You draw a teasing finger over San’s chest, parallel to the lines of his harness. Another whine spills over as he twitches under your touch, like the press of the rope against his skin has made him even more sensitive than usual.

“Even more secrets. Interesting,” Wooyoung muses to himself; but one particular secret is solved when you distantly hear the front door of the apartment open. He giggles when your breath catches, knowing he gave himself away. “See you soon, alright?” he says, and loudly slams the door shut on purpose.

San jerks at the sound, his eyes widening with realisation. He breaths hard underneath you, his cock giving a violent twitch.

“Over here!” you call out to Wooyoung, and San makes a strangled noise. His tearful eyes gleam with anticipation, excitement — and just a hint of those not-nerves again. “Hey,” you say gently and massage his shoulder in reassurance, drawing his attention back to you. “Wooyoung’s gonna lose his mind, seeing you like this. We’re gonna take such good care of you, of our Sannie.”

San nods, managing a few steadying breaths. “Yeah,” he says softly, his smile almost shy. “All yours.”

It’s then, as warmth glows inside your chest at San’s renewed submission, that Wooyoung opens the bedroom door, looking around in search of your ‘secret’. “Okay, so what’s all the fuss abou—” he starts, but then he lays eyes on San, silenced at once.

All words are stolen from Wooyoung’s tongue, unable to do anything but stare at San’s tied up figure. His mouth has gone slack, eyes unblinking as they take in every inch of rope laid across San’s flushed, sweaty skin, emphasising the wideness of his chest and shoulders, and how it tapers down to his narrow waist — down to where you’re settled in San’s lap, keeping his dick warm.

“See,” you grin at San, lightly rocking your hips into him, “told you he’d like it.”

Even the slight motion is enough to make San whimper and arch, biting at his swollen lips. The stretch around his thick cock is so easy and satisfying now, buried snugly inside your cunt like he was made for you, just to stuff you full. The fevered flush on San’s cheeks deepens as he stares right back at Wooyoung, helplessly waiting for his next move.

“I… I knew you guys talked about practising, I didn’t think… Fuck.”

Wooyoung curses lowly, hands shaky as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it drop onto the floor, leaving him in just a loose-fitting tanktop and trousers. He drinks in the sight of you and San as he shifts onto the bed, darkened eyes briefly lingering on the bite-marks San left on your breasts before Wooyoung’s attention flickers back to San himself.

He brushes his hand over the length of San’s arm, his fingertips catching against the ladder-tie fixed around tensed muscles. “Never seen you like this before,” Wooyoung murmurs in quiet wonderment, wetting his lips. “How is it, Sannie? Is she treating you real nice? Are you having fun?”

“She’s mean,” San pouts, but there is a fond gleam hidden in his eyes as he glances at you. “Wouldn’t let me cum until you got here.”

Wooyoung groans deeply at that, clenching his hand around San’s forearm as though to steady himself. He catches you off guard when he suddenly turns his head to capture you in a hard kiss.

You moan in surprise at Wooyoung’s roughness, his self-control already tattered and hanging on by a single frayed thread. It makes your hips roll against San on pure instinct, drawing a broken whine as he clumsily humps upward to meet your slow grind.

“Fuck, that is real nice of you,” Wooyoung grunts against your lips. “Waiting just for me? Don’t know I could’ve been that patient.”

“You definitely couldn’t have,” you giggle, and reluctantly push him away. “But you don’t have to be patient, not today. Go on, give Sannie a kiss too. Enjoy.”

“Oh I will,” Wooyoung says, his voice raspy with excitement.

San makes a noise, muscles tensing as he yanks uselessly at his bound wrists. He looks nothing short of depraved, hair matted with sweat and eyes glassy, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Delectable, served up to Wooyoung on a platter — and Wooyoung is starved.

Obediently he follows your instruction, descending on San’s mouth in a frenzy.

You sigh in satisfaction as San twitches inside your stuffed cunt, your hand returning to your clit. Even just a light graze of your fingers burns through your core while you revel in the sight in front of you, of San keening pitifully as Wooyoung ravishes him.

Both of them are just as needy and desperate as the other; Wooyoung lost in his aggressive greed, San whimpering as he surrenders himself to it. Your breath hitches at the liberal peeks of tongue as their jaws shift, a sloppy tangle that has San panting, drool spilling over onto his chin. Wooyoung laps it all up before sucking San’s tongue into his mouth, his hands starting to wander.

Wooyoung’s fixation on San’s chest is instantly obvious — and all too understandable. He appreciatively tracks his fingers over the lines of rope, then kneads at the firm pecs trapped between them. His trimmed nails dig into San’s skin ever so slightly, only spurred on when San’s gasps into his mouth, writhing against the dual sensations of his throbbing cock engulfed by your wet heat and Wooyoung’s unbridled attentions.

“What do you think, Wooyoungie? Beautiful like this, isn’t he?” you ask, voice a little shaky, but still allowing yourself a moment of pride in your work.

Wooyoung breaks away from San’s lips, a thin thread of spittle briefly connecting them before it snaps.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he grunts hoarsely. He bends down to suck at San’s tits with the same frenetic fervour he used on San’s mouth; and now San’s unmuffled cries spill freely, every pitched moan searing through your abdomen. San looks on the brink — and honestly, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off yourself either.

“Fuck, Sannie, I don’t— Fuck—” Wooyoung babbles between sucking marks on San’s chest, just as overwhelmed by the unexpected reversal. “Is— is this okay? W-what can I—?”

You run a soothing hand through Wooyoung’s hair to ground him, massaging the scruff of his neck. “It’s okay, Wooyoungie, just talk to me. What do you want?”

Wooyoung sighs and relaxes at you kneading his tense muscles, taking a few steadying breaths. He then plucks at the rope laid over San’s sternum with a longing glance, playing with how the cord fills the divot between San’s pecs.

“Looks so good like this. K-kinda wish it was me here…” he rasps, stroking his fingers almost in a thrusting motion along the length of rope, “…me fucking these pretty tits.”

You never even get the chance to check in with San, or to consider the logistics of removing this part of the harness without needing to dismantle the entire thing. No, San is way ahead of you on both counts.

“Cut it. Cut away the rope,” he blurts out immediately, jutting his chin at the safety shears lying on the nightstand.

Wooyoung giggles at San’s urgency, reaching for the scissors. “So generous. I’ll buy you some new rope then,” he coos, wiggling two fingers under the cord to lift it up. “Fuck, but aren’t you eager to get used today, all of a sudden. What brought this on, hm?”

The concern behind Wooyoung’s question is subtle, hidden under a thick fog of arousal, but neither you nor San miss it. San lets out a breathy, self-conscious laugh at Wooyoung’s valid assumption that San might be less than alright if he is willing to submit.

“Nothing,” he says, shuddering as the blunt side of the shears brushes over his skin. “Nothing happened. I… I just wanted this.”

His chest puffs up a little, like he’s proud of himself for the admission. (You definitely are.)

“We talked,” you add, toying with the wide strap of Wooyoung’s tanktop, half-distracted by a glimpse of his collarbone, “and San decided he wanted to try something new.”

The tension on the harness loosens as Wooyoung frees up the space for him to use, causing a slight slack to the ladder pattern on San’s arms; but they stay in place. “Hm, so I have you to thank for this little surprise? You talked Sannie into this?”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you grin, patting San’s side. “Didn’t take much convincing.”

“N-no, you can take a little credit,” San mumbles, almost a little drunkenly as he strains to stay still, slowly looking back-and-forth between you and Wooyoung.

Something passes over Wooyoung’s face as the sharp heat in his gaze momentarily softens. He turns to you and brushes his knuckles over your cheek, then presses a deceptively chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Thank you,” he says quietly, before a teasing glint returns to his eyes. “I’ll make good use of it.”

“You better, yeah,” you tease, ignoring how Wooyoung’s sudden moment of softness threatens to throw you off balance. “Sannie was real excited for you to join us.”

Wooyoung hums in acknowledgement, discarding the remainder of his clothes. As he does so, he intently eyes the rise and fall of San’s chest at first, but then his eyes wander back between your thighs, where San’s dick disappears inside your sopping cunt.

“Can I?” Wooyoung asks, but doesn’t wait for answer before he runs two fingers through your drenched folds, holding the digits in a v-shape to press around the base of San’s cock. He grins at the way you and San both jerk at his touch, drinking in every moan as he leisurely swipes at your slick.

“F-fuck, Wooyoungie—” you whine, your hand clamping around his shoulder.

His eyes widen when he realises just how close you are, lips spreading into a filthy grin. “Yeah? Gonna give me a little more? Give me enough to lube up Sannie’s fat tits?” he rasps, stroking his fingers with more purpose. “C’mon baby, get it real nice and sloppy for me.”

You hiss another curse, your hips picking up speed when Wooyoung’s thumb finds your clit, right as he lazily mouths at your neck. You’re losing yourself in a clouded frenzy, wantonly gyrating against Wooyoung’s fingers and San’s cock; no longer satisfied with San just filling up your cunt, but finally using him to fuck yourself in earnest.

You’ve held back for so long, but now pure desperation hits you all at once. You have to cum, to find a release to the pressure that’s been building all night from the very moment you and San started your innocuous ‘practice’ session, like neither of you had been fantasising about this very scenario. Your breathless moans mingle with San’s choked gasp as your reckless chase for relief inadvertently sends sends him down a delirious spiral.

San’s head falls back against the pillow as he cries out, struggling against the ropes and bucking clumsily up into your cunt, sliding against Wooyoung’s fingers. Tears mingle with sweat on San’s cheeks, his whines catching in his throat when you clench around him tighter than ever before.

You can’t help it, not when Wooyoung bites and sucks at your neck, every nerve ending in your body going haywire as his thumb never lets up on your clit no matter how you twist and squirm.

“P-please,” San gasps, trembling helplessly. “Please, I- I—”

“What is it, Sannie? Too much? Not enough?” Wooyoung grins when San whimpers at the latter question, bucking his hips again. “So greedy. How about you, baby?” he asks you, licking his lips. “Want more too?”

You groan when Wooyoung stops moving his fingers, instinctively burrowing a hand in his hair, tugging impatiently at the long dark strands. “Fuck, don’t stop now, close, so close, Woo,” you babble mindlessly. “Yes yes want more, fuck—!”

Your throat closes up with a high-pitched keen when Wooyoung does exactly what you asked for; giving you more.

Just like that, his index finger slides into your cunt, snugly pressed between your walls and San’s cock. You mewl at the added stretch, a not completely unfamiliar burn but still overwhelming as you rush towards the precipice at break-neck speed. Your vision whites out as you convulse, struggling to stay upright as electrified pleasure surges through you in waves. It’s not until the first wave passes that you realise Wooyoung has worked a second finger in there, snapping his wrist and dragging San right down with you.

“Feels good, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, grinning as your slick gushes over his fingers. “Is that what you wanted? Me next to you in that tight pussy, fucking our good girl together?”

San sobs brokenly, beautifully, powerless as he becomes undone underneath you, painting your fluttering walls with thick, heavy spurts of hot seed. His bottom lip is raw from his teeth, but still he bites down another whimper when your cunt clamps so tightly from an intense aftershock that you can’t help but push him out no matter how you try to keep him inside.

Wooyoung groans in delight at the view of San’s cum leaking out of your weeping hole, right on his fingers. He gathers as much as he can while you slump off on the side, trying and failing to catch your breath.

“Yeah, I think this will do just fine,” he chuckles darkly, and smears his slicked-up fingers between San’s pecs. He even works up some saliva to crudely spit onto San’s glistening skin, all shiny and slippery.

Antsy from waiting, Wooyoung straddles San and roughly grabs two handfuls of his tits to press together, creating a nice crevice for Wooyoung to fuck into. You kneel next to San, giving yourself a perfect view of what’s about to happen. One of your hands trails back between your legs, while the other rests on San’s thigh to ground him, your nails gently grazing over the sensitive muscle.

San whines, arching his back to meet Wooyoung’s flushed cock, its darkened tip leaking precum already. It only adds to the easy slide; an obscene mixture of fluids pooling in the shallow valley between San’s firm, pillowy pecs, causing a wet smacking sound with every snap of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes fluttering shut. He sinks into the rhythm, soaking up the lewd squelches and San’s soft moans.

Your fingers slowly circle around your swollen, tender clit while you watch in a daze how Wooyoung’s dick slides between San’s cleavage with fluid strokes. Wooyoung draws deep, raspy breaths as he tries to stop himself from unravelling too fast, desperate to savour this moment. San’s chest heaves against the weight of Wooyoung’s cock, sweat dripping down his forehead and tongue lolling out of his mouth.

San whimpers when you reach behind Wooyoung to wrap a hand around his softening cock. The touch is gentle at first, almost absentminded while you watch them intently, but your hand gradually picks up speed as San’s moans get louder, needier. Pleasure buzzes through your worn-out body while San’s dick plumps back up in your palm.

San is totally gone at this point, using his last shreds of cognition to crane his neck, trying to catch his tongue against the tip of Wooyoung’s cock with every thrust. Wooyoung lets out a strained giggle of delight at San’s mindless instinct to please, and he pushes forward with deeper strokes to give San a taste of salty precum, mingled with the other bodily fluids gathered on San’s chest.

Wooyoung readjusts his grip so he can thumb at San’s nipples, grinning fiendishly when San whines loudly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “So you enjoy this sort of thing, huh?” Wooyoung teases, grunting between thrusts as his pace picks up. The air is filled with the heady, lewd squelch of his cock pushing air between San’s cleavage. “Didn’t expect to ever see you tied up like this. Do you like it, Sannie? Us having our way with you, and nothing you can do about it. Just have to lie there and take it.”

“Y-yeah,” San hiccups, struggling for words while your fist twists around his cockhead with every pass of your hand over his length. “F-fuck, I do, I like it Youngie…”

San’s meek submission flares through your aching cunt — and for Wooyoung, it proves too much to handle. His voice cracks as he doubles over with high-pitched gasps, hips stuttering as he spills on San’s chest, some splatters reaching up to his neck and face.

Wooyoung barely gives himself a chance to catch his breath before he’s bent over San, his tongue laving over the sticky mess on San’s defiled chest.

San lets out a weak moan at Wooyoung’s greedy, suckling mouth, his own tongue darting out to catch a drop of cum on the corner of his lips. It’s decadent, filthy, and you’re drawn closer into their orbit of debauchery with every wet smack of Wooyoung’s mouth, every moan wrested from San’s lips.

Finally you can’t stand it anymore, abandoning your clit to lay on your side. Half-draped over San, you suck at the splatters of cum covering his freckled neck, pumping his cock quicker. The motion catches Wooyoung’s attention and he glances up at your hand around San’s dick, his dark eyes clouded over, mouth and chin shiny with fluids.

“F-fuck, please I can’t—” San whines, trembling uncontrollably. “Baby, I-I’m gonna—”

“Give it to me,” Wooyoung cuts through San’s babbling, his voice hoarse. He rests his cheek on San’s saliva-glistening chest, tongue resting on his bottom lip in invitation.

San’s moans go up in pitch, fighting for breath as you twist and squeeze at his cock with confident familiarity, knowing exactly what he needs to fall apart. He does just so, whining, spilling his load messily over Wooyoung’s face; not as much as the first time, but enough to paint Wooyoung’s tongue white, even with the stray splatters that get on his face and in his hair.

Wooyoung closes his lips with a mischievous grin, but he does not swallow. Instead he turns to you with a dark look, half-crawling over San to grab at the soft meat of your thigh.

Impatiently he pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs, then latches onto you. You cry out, yanking at Wooyoung’s hair as he crudely tongue-fucks your cunt, pushing San’s cum inside you. His fingers dig into your hips, encouraging you to grind freely against his face.

Already close from earlier, it does not take much for the orgasm lurking in the shadows to coil around you with hot tendrils, tightly until finally the pressure snaps. You spasm and mewl, desperately grabbing onto San’s arm as you clamp around Wooyoung’s tongue with a throttled moan.

Wooyoung makes a pleased noise, nudging his nose against your clit while you ride it out; chasing every spark jolting through your core. Weakly you run a hand through Wooyoung’s hair, holding him close as he gently sucks at your folds, drawing out the aftermath until finally you slump down.

As your hold on him loosens, Wooyoung presses a final, tender kiss on your soft thigh. Slowly he withdraws, then sits up and to face San, who lays on the bed worn-out and wrecked in all the best ways.

“That was… different,” Wooyoung says with a faint grin, cupping San’s puffy cheeks to brush away a few lingering tears with his thumbs. “You okay, Sannie? Fuck, you did amazing.”

San answers with a soft hum, tiredly grinning back at Wooyoung. “Different, yeah. Good different. I’m good,” he sighs, glancing at you with a tender gleam in his eyes.

You fondly run a hand through his hair. “I’m glad,” you say in a quiet hush, feeling an odd relief at San’s words. Like a preemptive strike at any uncertainties that could have nagged at you later.

Carefully, you undo the knot around one of his wrists and Wooyoung takes your cue, reaching for San’s other arm. Together you release him from the bindings and the remainder of the cut harness. San is content to just let it happen, to let your care wash over him as you check him for abrasions and massage any stiffness out of his arms.

“How about you?” Wooyoung asks you, squeezing at your waist while San munches on an energy bar. “You okay?”

His concern seeps warmly through the exhaustion that’s settling in your bones. “Hm. Tired,” you mumble, though you manage a smile. It’s not bad, just more than you expected.

San immediately stretches his arms out to you. “Cuddle,” he pouts bossily; a mutually beneficial demand.

You give into his demand without second thought, happy to snuggle up against his chest (which is no longer stained with bodily fluids after Wooyoung cleaned him with some wet-wipes).

“Better?” San asks, rubbing his nose into your hair.

You giggle at the way San can’t help but take charge again, even if it’s just during the aftercare. “Yeah,” you sigh contently, and give Wooyoung a thankful look when he drapes a blanket over you before joining the cuddle himself.

You drift into a cosy bubble of entangled bodies and lazy chatter, a fuzzy warmth settling in, like you could doze off into sleep any moment. You're tempted to let it take you, to at least get a little nap in before you return to the comfort of your own bed — and really, you can find no reason not to.

Wrapped up in the safety of San and Wooyoung, you let your eyes flutter shut for a while, accompanied by their hushed voices and laughs.

Their voices are still there when you wake again later, along with two hands softly grazing over your arm and waist. You join their talk for a while, sleep-drunk from the nap, but then decide to go sleep for real before your brain wakes up too much. San gives you another pout as you untangle from his hold, while Wooyoung jokingly suggests they come with you, but both are placated when you promise to join them for breakfast tomorrow.

You stick by your promise, padding over to San and Wooyoung’s the next morning in slippers and a comfy bathrobe. It’s just one door away but you still can’t help thinking back on yesterday’s conversation; no longer having to shuffle through the apartment building’s hallway would definitely be an added benefit to a shared home.

Wooyoung is meandering in the kitchen by himself when you come in, no San in sight. You rub your eyes groggily as you look around for him, while joining Wooyoung by the stove. You give him a half back-hug, peeking over his shoulder to identify the origin of tasty smells drifting through their apartment. (Kimchi pancakes and egg dumplings, as it turns out.)

“Hmm, has San left already?” you mumble against Wooyoung’s shoulder. You’ had hoped to see San before work, just to ease that tiny twinge of protectiveness in your chest, to confirm he still felt good after yesterday. “Did he have a good sleep?”

Wooyoung opens his mouth — but before he can get a sound out, you hear the muted sound of the shower turning on from the bathroom.

“He’s here,” Wooyoung says with a sleepy grin, flipping over the pancake effortlessly. He’s wearing an apron, his hair is messily tied up into a half-bun, face slightly puffy from sleep. It’s utterly endearing. He looks away from the pan to glance at you, chuckling when he realises what your question was really about. “San’s doing great,” he assures you. “Way too chipper for this early in the morning, honestly.”

“Good, good,” you hum absentmindedly, nuzzling into Wooyoung’s shoulder. “And you? How are you doing? After last night?”

He blinks in surprise at the question. “Yeah? Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsatisfied with his vague answer. “…Yeah? We didn’t ambush you too much with the whole thing?”

“Oh, no no!” He quickly shakes his head, but then slows down and sinks into a pensive expression. “Well… No, not an ambush.”

“…But?” you ask, starting to feel uneasy.

Wooyoung chuckles, pinching your cheek. “Hey — don’t stress out, okay? Last night was fucking amazing. I only—”

He sighs and awkwardly rubs the back of his head, before seeming to come to a decision. He slides the crispy pancake onto a preheated plate before turning down the stove, taking a break from cooking. He turns around to lean back against the counter, giving you and the conversation his full attention. You lean next to him, gently bumping your shoulders together.

“In the heat of the moment? No problems. But afterwards, I… I started feeling a little jealous,” Wooyoung says, his face scrunching up as he painstakingly works the admission past his lips. “That you got to tie San up. That he let you tie him up. Not that I ever bothered to ask but…” Wooyoung shrugs, like he’s trying to minimise the emotions behind his words. “…But I never got the feeling San would’ve tried that with just me.

“And I mean, there’s a reason I never asked; it’s not like this is some big secret fantasy I’ve been dying to play out so the whole thing is just stupid to get jealous over, but… yeah. That.”

His ramble trails off awkwardly, but you listened intently to every word, despite struggling a little to take it all in. You did just wake up after all, still shaking off sleep’s lingering hold on your brain. “Wooyoung… It’s not stupid. Not at all,” you say, your hand finding his.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung says with a wry smile, “didn’t mean to dump all that on you before I even got some food in your stomach.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “Did you talk to San about this?”

“Oh yeah, Sannie got the late night edition,” Wooyoung chuckles faintly. “But— but the thing is; it was also… nice? Does that even make sense? Like, I loved seeing you two like that together.”

Your brow softens, a pop of warmth bursting in your chest. “You did?”

Wooyoung nods, struggling to meet your eyes. “Yeah. Loved it. I—”

He hesitates again, and you have a sudden suspicion of what sentence he’s hiding behind his lips.

“I love how you took care of him, I love that he let you. Even if it felt complicated. You and San are different than me and San, but… that’s okay, you know? You and me are different too, and I love how we are together,” Wooyoung says, his waterfall of words inching closer and closer to the exact phrasing he is trying to reach.

You swallow thickly, realising what is about to come… and hold tighter onto Wooyoung’s hand, quietly encouraging him.

He glances up tentatively, finally meeting your eyes again — and relaxes into a smile at what he finds there. “Listen,” he continues, a little more confident, “it’s not like I’m interested in what adjective goes before the word. Romantic, platonic, whatever. Who cares. But— but I do love you.”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, exhaling with audible relief.

“And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, searching your face for any signs of it, “but I also don’t want to lie about this stuff. So… is this okay? Is it okay if I say that? You don’t have to say anything back,” Wooyoung rushes to add. “I know you might not feel the same way. But I’m good with that. I’m good with you liking me in your own way.”

There’s a stubborn lump in your throat that refuses to go away.

You did think those words would make you uncomfortable. You were convinced they would, given your past experiences. You just thought that for Wooyoung, you could sit with that discomfort and let it pass through you. At least this once. But there is no discomfort itching under your skin, no distress pounding in your chest.

Only warmth.

Down to the very core of your being, you know there are no ultimatums hidden behind Wooyoung’s confession. No threat to end things if your response does not meet his expectations, if what you can give him in return isn’t enough. Whatever you’ll say, he has already decided that it is. That you are enough. Just as you are.

“Well… I did tell you to stop assuming I’ll bolt at the tiniest hint of commitment,” you tease, though your voice is a little thick. (Somewhere in the background, you vaguely register that the shower in the bathroom has turned off.)

“You did, yeah,” Wooyoung giggles, lightly elbowing you in the side. His shoulders look much lighter now. “No take backsies.”

You shake your head. “Wasn’t planning on it. Yeah,” you hum. “Yeah, it’s okay if you say that. More than okay. I… I’m happy.”

Wooyoung’s eyes scrunch up as his smile widens. The force of it is breathtaking.

“Is— is this something recent? You haven’t been stressing out about this talk, have you?” you ask, fidgeting a little. You hate the idea that he might’ve been sitting with this for who knows how long.

Wooyoung scoffs a laugh. “What? No way. You know me, right? Bottling up feelings is not my style. I leave that up to you and Sannie.”

You snort at the lighthearted dig, whapping Wooyoung on the arm. “Hey, that’s slander! Blatant character assassination! Who is the one who brought up moving in together?”

“Okay fine, fine, I’ll let you have that one,” he sighs dramatically. “But you gotta admit I’m the load-bearing pillar in this trio. It’s a fate I’ve accepted long ago.”

His dramatics make you laugh, but honestly? There is truth in it. Wooyoung has always been the most pro-active between the three of you, the most forthright about his wants and needs. Hell, without Wooyoung, you and San never would’ve reached a place for him to be jealous of.

You always liked San, ever since he moved in next-door, but it was Wooyoung who forcibly dragged you two closer into each others’ orbit. With no Wooyoung, you’d have lived complacently as neighbours, your friendship superficial, until one of you moved out again, never to see each other again. Never sticking your head out to explore what else there could be between you.

The morning hush settles back into the kitchen as you lean against Wooyoung, loosely wrapping your arms around his. “Thank you,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll try to carry my weight more often.”

Wooyoung blinks, a little surprised at your sincere reaction to his joke, but then he softens into a smile and leans back into you. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs back. “But don’t go carrying too much, alright? Can’t have me becoming redundant.”

“Pff, never. Idiot,” you snort, squeezing his arm. “Besides, what if you did? It’s not like we’d ditch you or anything. San and I don’t keep you around just because we’d crumble without you.”

That’s how San walks in to find you and Wooyoung, just living in a moment of quiet. His hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his shoulders to catch the last few drops clinging to wet tendrils.

San’s eyes lightens up when he sees you’re here, quickly walking over joining you. He briefly raises an eyebrow when he notes the one singular pancake that’s getting cold, but decides to ignore it, leaning against the kitchen counter next to Wooyoung instead. He drapes an arm over Wooyoung’s shoulder, his warm hand coming to rest high between your shoulder-blades.

“So,” San says, a cute little smile tugging on his lips as he looks at Wooyoung. “You talked to her? Said what you wanted to say?”

Wooyoung grins back at him. “Yeah. We talked.”

“Good,” San says softly, his fingers trailing up to knead the nape of your neck. “That’s really good.”

Wooyoung lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. “You know what isn’t good?” he says, looking from you to San. “That we’re all standing around here getting hungry. C’mon, get off me, let me get to it. Someone has to keep you two fed.”

He abruptly shakes himself loose and turns back to his pancake better, causing you and San to make noises of surprise — but then you grin mischievously at the sight of him diligently making breakfast for three. “See? That’s why you’ll never be redundant. Indispensable, that’s what you are.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Helpless without me, that’s what you are,” he shoots back, but the corners of his mouth are fighting a losing battle against the wide, shy smile creeping up his lips.

You catch San’s eye while Wooyoung continues his cooking, suddenly feeling oddly shy. “You had a good sleep?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, struck by the same shyness. “Really good.”

A faint heat creeps under your skin as you reminisce on last night’s events; the trust San showed in you, the sight of him tied up on the bed, helpless while you and Wooyoung ravished him, how noisy he’d gotten—

Oh. Noise.

A whole other sort of heat flushes through you when a different memory of yesterday floods through your system. “D-do you think we ought to send Mrs Yoon flowers or something?” you say, grimacing at San. “Fruit basket? Chocolates?”

San’s drowsy smile is knocked right off his face as he freezes, cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. “Oh god,” he groans, hiding his face behind his hand. “Y-yeah. Maybe we should.”

Wooyoung takes his attention off the pan, blinking at you and San in confusion. “Hm? Mrs Yoon? What about her?” he says, blissfully oblivious. “Is she sick? I can get her some flowers from work, sure. Do we need to write her a card too?”

[arc-misadventures]

What Are You Doing Here?

A thin. twig of a man was walking the streets of, Mantle. A grey hood covered his head as he tried to remain unseen. He was here on a mission, a very important mission. One that if he was caught would cause untold amount of suffering, and damage. But, he would be willing to fight to complete his mission. And, nothing was going to stop him!

Except for a six foot six, blond hair specialist grabbing him by the back of his hoodie holding him aloft as he hopelessly kicked his feet in the air.

: GRAHH?! Let go of me go!

: Only if you explain what you're doing here?

: I-It doesn't concern you, Jaune!

Jaune Arc, on another one of his patrols in, Mantle after the ballot boxes were delivered to another community halls for the upcoming vote. But, his patrol was brought to an abrupt detour when he stumbled upon a most unexpected sight.

The sole male heir of the, Schnee family. Whitely Schnee out on a leisurely stroll.

Jaune: Doesn't concern me?! Oh yeah, Winter's gonna love the fact I told her: 'Hey, Winter I saw your little brother down in, Mantle! I don't know what he was doing, I just left him alone!'

Jaune: Do you have any idea what she would do to me if I told her that, Whit?!

Whitely: Then don't tell her!

Jaune: Are you trying to get me killed?!

Whitely: This doesn't concern you! Let me go!

Jaune: Whitely... Tell me what's happening, or I'll tell, Willow you're down here...

Whitely stopped struggling in, Jaune's grasp, his whole body going limp as he comprehended his threat.

Whitely: Okay... Okay, I'll tell you why I'm here. But, please... don't tell my mom...

Jaune: Smart lad.

Jaune dropped, Whitely who straightened out his clothes before turning to face, Jaune keeping his hoodie over his head to hid his identity, and his highly recognizable heir from any passers by.

Whitely: I'm here, because I am going to a rally that's being held today.

Jaune: A rally? One of the political rallies?

Whitely: Y-Yeah...

Jaune: Who's rally? The election is in a two days, there's five rally's happening right now. Who are you making your way to, Whit?

Whitely: ...

Whitely: I'm... I'm heading to, Robyn Hill's rally...

Jaune: Robyn Hill?! Why the hell are you going there?

Whitely: I-I have my reasons...

Jaune: You better tell me, because seriously, Whit... I can think of many reasons for why you wouldn't go there, but I can't think of a single reason why you would want to go there.

Whitely: Oh yeah?! What reasons could you think of!

Jaune: You're, Jacques Schnee's son, you're the heir to the Schnee Dust Company, and it's fortune. You're part of the uppermost class of the, Atlasian Elite, so why are you of all people, even associating with the 'lower class.'

Whitely: You know I'm nothing like my father! And, while the others are true... B-But, I don't think I'm better than everyone else!

Jaune: Just richer than them?

Whitely: Okay... t-that's... that's a fact. You can't use that against me!

Jaune: Yes, I can, and will.

Whitely: Okay, I know it may seem that I don't care for the 'common folk,' but Mom, and I are trying to make things better for people. Higher wages, better medical, dental, family, and a slew of other benefits! We're becoming less of a monopoly! We're doing so many things that is helping all of, Atlas, and Mantle!

Jaune: Yes, you told me that when I was over for dinner with you, and Willow the other day. And, that's all well, and good, but why are you going to one of, Robyn's Hill's rally?

Whitely: I'm not going to tell you anything!

Whitely stared defiantly at, Jaune. His stance solid, and defiant to the world, and the threat a seasoned, Specialist could offer to an auraless civilian. But, Jaune would teach him the futility of his defiance.

Jaune pulled out his scroll, and hit a few buttons, and hold it in front of, Whitely, his finger hovering over a button.

Jaune: You tell me why you're going to a rally for, Robyn Hill right now, or I swear I'll call your sister here right now.

Whitely: You think I'm scared of, Weiss?!

Jaune: Who said I was going to call, Weiss?

Whitely: ...?!

Whitely: Y-You wouldn't... You wouldn't dare...?

Jaune: Whit... the question you should be asking isn't whether, or not I'll do it. But, how fast, Winter will get down here to pick you up.

Whitely's eyes bugged out as he dry swallowed as he took in the essence of, Jaune's threat.

Whitely: ...

Whitely: I-I... I'm... I'm going to...

Jaune: Going to what?

Whitely: I'mgoingto,RobynHill'srallytoseemycrush!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Whitely: I'm going to, Robyn Hill's rally to see my crush...

Jaune: You're crush... You have a crush...?

Jaune: It better not be, Robyn Hill, because she's claimed me...

Whitely: What, no It's not her...? Wait, I thought, Winter claimed you?

Jaune: I'm stuck between a love triangle that the two of them will fight tooth, and nail over who gets to have me.

Whitely: Okay...?

Jaune: If it's not, Robyn then who is it?

Whitely: I-I'll tell you who it is... but, only if you take me there to see her!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay... but we're going to get you a took first. You look like a hoodlum looking like that.

Whitely: I'm not a hoodlum!

Jaune: That's a shame, you'd have more personality if you were...

Whitely: Hey!

~~~

Now the pair were at, Robyn Hill's rally the last one being held before the election. Whitely now had a nice burnt red took on his head, hiding his easily identifiable snow white hair.

Jaune was keeping his eye's on, Whitely, waiting for him to react to anything, or more importantly who was the one, Whitely had a crush on. And, the way he watched, Whitely's body stiffen, and his breath left him, and the way his cheeks became red. He knew who ever they were had appeared. And, he was most surprised for who it was,

Jaune: Wait... Fiona... Fiona Thyme?! That's your secret crush?!

Whitely: SHHHH! Don't say that out loud!

Jaune: Okay... I have so many questions... But, first off... she's twenty four, Fiona's at lease a decade older than you.

Whitely: What? I'm not fourteen, I'm seventeen years old, Jaune!

Jaune: ...

Jaune's eyes blink in bewilderment as he looked at, Whitely. Jaune proceed to grab, Whitely by the scuff of, Whitely's hoodie, and lifted him up into the air with one hand. Jaune held out his arm straight, and shook, Whitely in the air, watching his feet dangle effortlessly in the air before setting him down.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay... We're changing your diet: More meats, and more protein, as well as getting you on a exercise regime. We need to put more meat on you, cause otherwise people will think you're a legal shouta.

Whitely: ...

Whitely: Okay...

Whitely: But, what about you! Winter's twenty five years old! And, you're...

Jaune: Nineteen.

Whitely: Nineteen! That's a six year difference!

Jaune: Compared to a seven year difference... No... Okay, look... It's not that bad, but it's not that good either. I just thought you were younger then you actually are. Seriously, we need to put some meat on your chicken legs.

Whitely: Shut up...

Jaune: But, why do you like her? I mean... You like, Fiona? I thought you didn't like faunas, she's a sheep faunas.

Whitely: I didn't... N-Not anymore... That was just my father's influence, I'm not like that anymore. I just saw her from a distance, and... I just fell for her... I think she's beautiful.

Jaune: Love at first sight...?

Whitely: Y-Yeah... you could say that...

Jaune: Oh gods...

Jaune: Have you talked to her?

Whitely: N-No... She's a, Huntress, a Happy Huntress, and a faunas. And, I'm...

Jaune: Whitely Schnee... son of the enemy of all faunas... Jacques Schnee...?

Whitely: Yeah...

Jaune: Damn... The decks already stacked against you, and you're not even at the table...

Whitely: She'd probably spit in my face just walking over to her.

Jaune: Give her some credit, Whit. Fiona's not like that, if you were an ass she'd punch you in the face. She's too classy to spit in your face.

Whitely: H-How do you know that... H-Have you talked to her?!

Jaune: A few times.

Whitely: Can you introduce me to her?!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haaa...

Jaune: Please don't make me regret doing this, Whit...

Whitely: Yes! Thank you big bro!

Jaune: Don't you call me that!

Whitely: Sorry...

~~~

Robyn: Hello, Specialist Arc... What brings you here this day, General Ironwood send you to complain about my running for election again.

Jaune: Drop the act, Robyn. Whit knows that I'm the prize in your competition thingy against, Winter.

Robyn: Oh... wait, who is that, Whit fellow?

Jaune: Just a friend I'm wingmanning for...

Robyn: Okay...? And, this, Whit fellow... has a thing for, Fiona...?

Jaune: Yeah, it's a love of first sight, kind of thing...

Robyn: Seriously...?

Jaune: It's also the first crush for the kid... teenager...Give him some slack, okay?

Robyn: Why are you doing this?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I'm a romantic?

Robyn: You don't sound so sure about that...

Jaune: I've somehow managed to snagged three extremely hot badass warrior babes by being myself; I'm not sure about a lot of things!

Robyn: Three... Is there another woman I should be worried about?

Jaune: No. She's dead...

Robyn: Oh... I-I'm sorry, Jaune. I didn't mean...

Jaune: Stop, I would prefer not to talk about it. Let's just watch, Whit, and see how he'll do.

Robyn: O-Okay...

~~~

Walking up to, Fiona Thyme, Whitely was having a panic attack in his head. He was a seventeen year old kid, talking with his first crush, who happened to by a, Happy Huntress, and a faunas. He was the enemy of everything she no doubt stood for, because of his fathering was, Jacques Schnee.

But, like, Jaune told him: "You'll regret not telling her more than you will be for putting your foot in your mouth."

He just hopped he wouldn't put his foot so deep in his mouth.

~~~

Whitely: H-Hi!

Fiona stopped to looked at the kid standing before her, an inch smaller than her. He wore a a grey hoodie, and grey blue jeans, black sneakers, and a burnt red took. Fiona thought this... civilian looked nice, her certainly had nice icy blue eyes, but why is he talking to her, Robyn was right there after all?

Fiona: Hello...?

Whitely: Hi! Uhhh...? M-My name is...

Whitely's eyes darted around nervously, if he introduced himself as who he pretending to be, Whit, she'd probably ignore him. But, if he suddenly popped it on her that he was actually, Whitely Schnee, like he was embarrassed to be seen with her, because who he was. Fiona would probably, rightfully so, deck him in the face.

Whitely: My name is, Whitely... Whitely Schnee...

Whitely pulled off his burnt red took, showing off his snow white hair. He gave, Fiona a nervous smile, meanwhile, Fiona was staring at him wild eyed. Fiona's voice escaped her as her mind struggled to comprehend what it was standing before her.

Robyn: Wait, hold on...?! That's, Whitely Schnee?!

Jaune: Yes, and quiet!

Fiona: Whitely Schnee... Son of, Jacques Schnee...?

Whitely: Y-Yeah... That's me...

Fiona: Okay... W-What are you doing down here...?

Whitely: Down here in, Mantle? Did you not expect someone like me to be here?

Fiona: Uhh... yeah... For several reasons that.

Whitely: W-What reasons?

Fiona: You're, Whitely Schnee, son of, Jacques Schnee...

Whitely: That I am......

Fiona: What's a rich boy doing down her in the slums?

Whitely: This...? There are no slums in, Mantle?

Fiona: And, why are you an, faunas racist talking to a faunas?

Whitely: ...

Jaune: Oh shit...

Robyn: Wait... you said, wingmanning... Does, Whitely...?!

Whitely: I... I may have had such opinions... But, they weren't solely baseless, and my idea...

Fiona: Baseless? What do you mean by that?

Whitely: My father was the enemy of all faunas... And, he made faunas his enemy, blamed them for a lot of his problems, and he even forced a lot of these problems he caused on them. So, I can understand their hate for me, and my father. And, I can understand why they all think that I'm a carbon copy of my father. But, I'm not my father!

Fiona: And, why do you say that?

Whitely: I did agree with my father, and his opinions of faunas. Not all faunas, just those of the, White Fang...

Fiona: The White Fang?

Whitely: You probably heard how they were 'freedom fighters,' fighting for faunas rights... You tell me to believe that is the truth when your mother's shielding your eyes so you don't see the dismembered body of your cousin. You didn't see your father absolutely loose it when one of the dust shipments got attacked by the, White Fang, and he took out his anger on your mother...

Whitely: I don't hate the faunas, Fiona. I hate the, White Fang, because of what they did to me, and my family... My father... Jacques would hate you for being a faunas. Me...? I'm... I'm not my father. Like he would ever have a crush on a cute sheep faunas anyway...

Fiona looked at, Whitely. She was feeling down, she was judging him based on his linage, often something others did to her because she was a faunas. He couldn't control being, Jacques Schnee's son, but he did control who he choose to become. Besides, it's like he said: It's not like, Jacques Schnee would ever have a crush on a cute sheep...?!

Fiona: W-W-Wait?! 'A crush on a cute sheep faunas?!' Do you have a crush on me?!

Whitely: AHH?! Oh shit... I didn't mean to tell you that?!

Robyn: Holy shit?!

May: The, Schnee kid has a crush on, Fiona?!

Joanna: And, is, Fiona blushing?!

Jaune: Well this isn't how you'd want things to go... but, I did worse, so...?

Fiona: YOU DO?!

Whitely: I snuck into one of, Robyn Hill's political rallies, and saw you! And, I fell for you the moment I laid my eyes upon you!

Fiona: Love at first sight?!

Jaune: Going for broke eh, Whit?

Robyn: Somebody please tell me you're recording this?!

Joanna: From the moment I came here!

May: I've been taking photos!

Whitely: S-So, Fiona Thyme! Will you please go out with me?!

Fiona: O-O-Oh... W-Well... I'm too old for you... I mean, a thirteen year old going out with a twenty three year old... That's...?

Whitely: Seventeen!

Fiona: W-What?

Whitely: I'm seventeen years old... Jaune's going to put me on an excursive regium, and a new diet to bulk up so I stop looking like... like a kid... S-So, it's just a six year difference... So, c-could we...?

Fiona: ...

Fiona: D-Do you want to go on a date now...? Cause... I'm going to be busy the next few days... election stuff... So, I don't know if I'll be able to...

Whitely: Yes!

Fiona: Eep?!

Whitely: Sorry, I meant to say, yes.

Fiona: That's great!

Whitely: But, uhh... I don't know any of the restaurants around here... How about you take us to a nice one, where we can chat, and get to know one another better. My treat.

Fiona: I'd like that. Come on, Whitely.

Whitely: J-Just call me, Whit. Otherwise people might...

Fiona: Okay, Whit.

Fiona waited by the door as, Whitely put on his took, and ran up to, Fiona. the pair had matching smiles, and small blushes on their faces as they left on their date.

From the distance the group of, Huntresses, and the Specialist all cooed from the corner as they watched them leave together.

Robyn: Wow... out of all the things I expected today... Whitely Schnee asking, Fiona on a date, and her accepting it is the last thing I'd ever expected.

May: But, they look so cute together! Especially with, Fiona being just one inch taller than him!

Jaune: May, I'm going to need those photos, and that video, Joanna. Evidence for... for things...

Joanna: You got it!

Jaune: Hahaha! Willow's gonna love this!

Robyn: Hey, Jaune? How come you've never taken me out on a date before?

Jaune: Because, I'm too busy to go on a date with any of you! Winter's too busy going on a date with, because she's busy being a, Specialist. You're too busy being a politician to go on a date, Robyn. And, I'm too busy being playing both sides to get you elected, and manipulating, General Ironwood to get what needs to be done! Which is dragging everyone away from his stupid project, that if he finds out what I've done, he'll probably shoot me for treason!

May: Y-Your kidding, right...?

Jaune: No. No I am not.

Robyn, and her, Happy Huntresses all looked at, Jaune, and took in the dead seriousness in his eyes. Robyn placed her hand on him, activating her semblance showing it off in a vibrant green hue.

Joanna: Holy shit, he's telling the truth...

Jaune: Oi?!

(Slap!)

Robyn: Ow!

Jaune: None of that!

Robyn: How mean... How could you do that to such a delicate maiden~?

Jaune: If you used your semblances on yourself it would be as red as blood for saying that.

Robyn: Hey!

Jaune: Alright, I need to go back, my shift is almost over, and I need to file in a report. I'll see you later ladies.

May: Bye, Jaune.

Joanna: See you later, Jaune.

Jaune: Oh, before I go... Robyn?

Robyn: Yea... MPHH?!

Jaune grabbed, Robyn's chin, and pulled her in for a kiss. He pushed his lips upon her, causing, Robyn to moan deeply within her throat, causing her to gasp for air as he broke their kiss.

Jaune: Consider that an IOU for a real date.

Robyn: O-Okay...

Jaune: Well then, till later then, my Lady.

Jaune turned, and left the, Happy Huntresses 'secret' base. Leaving a panting, and blush stricken, Robyn with a hand upon her chest as she watched her, Knight leave.

Robyn: Oh gods~!

May: Oh shit... she's got it bad...

Joanna: She's got it really bad!

May: It's fucking adorable.

Joanna: So adorable.

~~~

One of the back doors to the, Schnee manor slowly opened, and closed as a skinny twig snuck it's way inside. It stealthily made it's way to a room in the house. As it reached the door to the room, it quietly opened the door, before slowly shutting it behind him. A tired sigh with a hint of joy escaped his lips. He turned on the lights to the room, turned around, and screamed.

: AHHHHHH?!?!

: Hello, Whitely...

Whitely: M-Mom?! What are you doing in my room?!

Willow: The better question is; Why are you home so late?

Whitely: Wha... I'm not late...

Willow: It's, 3:32 am...

Whitely: T-That's not so late...

Willow: Whitely you've complained that it's too late, and you need to head to bed at 9 pm. You have never once stay out so late before. So, where were you?

Whitely: I-I-I was out... w-with friends...

Willow: You don't have any friends.

Whitely: I just recently met them...

Willow: And, you were hanging out with these friends of yours... so late because...?

Whitely: W-We were just having so much fun we lost track of time...

Willow: And, did you have 'fun' with this friend?

Whitely: We just talked, we didn't do anything... uncouth...

Willow: But, would you have if you could?

Whitely: It was a first date, you don't do anything like that until the third...

Willow: So it was a date~?

Whitely: Grkk?!

Willow: So tell me, who was it that you were on this date with?

Whitely: I-I don't have to tell you anything!

Willow: Whitely... I am your mother, you will tell me about this sheep girl you were seeing...

Whitely: Wha... how did you know she was a sheep faunas?!

Willow: Because, Jaune told me.

Whitely: That traitor! Why did he tell you?!

Willow: Because you took so long, and for the record, Jaune didn't actually tell me.

Whitely: He didn't, then who did?

: I did.

Whitely: AHHHH?!

The chair to, Whitely's desk turned around to show a very irate Winter Schnee staring back at him.

Whitely: W-W-Winter?! When did you get here?!

Winter: Oh, a while after mother told me you weren't home. And, a few minutes after I interrogated, Jaune about who you were with. So, tell me, Whitely... Why were you on a date with, Fiona Thyme. A member of the, Happy Huntresses?

Whitely: I-I-I...?! I can explain!

Willow: I always knew you liked lamb, but to like it in such a manner~?

Whitely: I-I don't like it in that manner... Well, Fiona is...I don't mean!

Winter: Start talking, Whitely...

Willow: Yes, mother want's to hear everything about your little date~!

Whitely: Ohhhhh...!

Whitely: Shit...

[ariestrxsh]

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, praise, light punishment, spanking, public teasing, religious kink, sexualization of religious imagery, blasphemy, masturbation, fingering, dom!matt, possessive!matt

📝 author's note: 📝 this is part two, and you can access part one here. if you are religious, first of all, why are you reading this? secondly, please don't interact with this post! it will offend you. for those of you who couldn't get enough and asked for a part two, thanks for giving me a reason to write another part, you little freaks, bc i'm honestly in love with this version of matt. 💖

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Matt has convinced you that the only way for you to stay a good, pure Christian girl is to come to him for your sexual urges rather than anyone else. When you approach him for help again, he teaches you a little trick to keep you satisfied until the next time he sees you.

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

coming down part two

"Matt, I'm getting that urge again," I told him, biting my lip and looking down at my feet as we stood underneath the same oak tree as last week. It was Wednesday, and we agreed that would be our meeting spot every week before service. "Meet me at my car after the sermon," Matt responded, tilting my chin up towards him with a long, slender finger. "You're such a good girl for coming to me. I know just how to satisfy your urges."

The whole time the preacher had the stage, I couldn't focus on what he was saying. My head buzzed with thoughts of Matt, the feeling of my hands in his hair while he ate me out, the sounds he made when he filled me, the way his voice got really low and raspy when he called me princess.

I held my Bible over my crossed legs and pressed my thighs together over and over as discreetly as I could to feel something, anything. And I prayed to God that no one would notice. Every once in a while, my eye would catch Matt's from across the room, and we'd share a quick but lustful look. I could tell we were both struggling to pay attention to the lesson.

Once service ended, I skipped off towards Matt's car. The air outside was warm, but there was a light breeze, and the sunset looked like cotton candy.

Matt beat me to the parking lot, and when we saw each other, he was leaning up against the hood of his car, biting his lip and smiling at me. He held the door open for me and extended his hand out for me to grab it, and when I did, he kissed the back of my hand. "You look so pretty in that polka dot dress," he said to me, making me blush. What a gentleman.

Matt got into the driver's seat, and before turning on the car, he glanced over at me. "Were you squeezing your thighs together in church on purpose?" He asked, his eyes narrowing and a smile forming on his lips. "I couldn't help it. I feel all wet and tingly down there," I said, embarrassed. "I didn't think anyone would notice."

"That was very naughty of you, princess, but don't worry. I don't think anyone did. I only noticed because I couldn't keep my eyes off you," Matt responded, tracing circles on my thigh with his fingertips. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"You know, you can't be having naughty thoughts about me in church, pretty girl. I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson," Matt told me. "A lesson? What kind?" I asked, a mixture of fear and excitement in my voice. "You're gonna have to sit tight and find out," Matt said, turning the key in the ignition.

I'd never been to Matt's house, but I assumed that's where we were going. He looked over at me every few minutes as he drove, and at stop lights, he'd lean over and kiss me.

Once we pulled up to his house, he parked in the driveway and told me, "Nick and Chris are stopping for food on their way home, so we have some time, but not much.

I found myself in Matt's bedroom. He was clean and neat, and the lighting in his room was soft and not too bright. "Come here, angel. I have to give you a little punishment for getting all hot and bothered during the service," he smirked at me. My heart started to pound, and I swallowed hard. I didn't want to be punished. But I knew it was in my best interest to listen to him. "This is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you," he said sternly.

"Bend over," he ordered me, and he bent me over his knee and lifted up my dress, exposing my bottom. "Were you trying to tease me, princess? In the middle of church?" Matt cooed, rubbing gentle circles on my bottom. "No, I wasn't. I didn't mean for anyone to see," I whined.

"Do you have any idea how hard you made my cock?" Matt asked, talking through his teeth and I felt a loud slap! on my ass. I cried out in shock. "Take your punishment, princess," he smacked it again.

I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, but I liked it. Why did I like being punished if it was supposed to be a bad thing?

"What were you thinking about anyway, huh? Was it my cock? Or my tongue?" Matt whispered as his hand came down one more time, leaving another red hand mark. "Both," I admitted. "Next time you misbehave like that, it's five spankings," he warned me.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to," I looked down in shame once he was done. "I forgive you, princess. We all make mistakes, but our actions have consequences. Next, let's get you out of those pretty panties, and why don't you come sit on my lap," Matt replied. I did as he said, slid out of my lacey undergarments, and I sat on his lap with his right knee between my legs.

"Oh, sweetheart. Look at how wet you are. Is that from me punishing you? You liked it, didn't you? He cooed, spreading it open and peering down at my glistening pussy. Matt started teasing my slit with his fingers. I bit my lip, our eyes met, and I nodded at him. "Good girl. You took your punishment so well," he slipped a finger into my pussy and started pumping in and out gently.

I inhaled sharply, and I looked at him wide-eyed. I thought I had already experienced everything with Matt, but no one had ever put their fingers there, and it felt incredible.

"How's that feel?" He asked. "Like heaven," I answered, leaning back into him and rolling my eyes towards the back of my head. As I laid back into him, I could feel something poking me in his pants, and it just kept getting bigger and harder. He put in a second finger. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered, smiling at him. He watched my facial expressions intently while he played around with the pace at which he was moving his fingers in and out of me. I felt myself getting wetter by the second.

"Do you ever play with yourself, princess?" Matt inquired while a pool of wetness formed on Matt's leg from what he was doing to me. "I mean, I've tried, but I've never successfully finished," I nervously bit my lip while I stifled a whimper. "Show me how you do it, baby," he whispered.

With his fingers still inside of me, I started running the pads of my fingers over my folds, and it felt alright, but not as mind-blowing as when Matt played with me. "Do you remember that little spot right here?" Matt said, brushing over my clit with his thumb. "That's the sweet spot, princess. Start rubbing yourself there," Matt told me. He was such a good teacher.

It immediately started feeling even better when I took his advice and started touching that special spot. "Now play around with the technique. I think you like slow circles, but with a lot of pressure," he whispered. I did as he said, and boy, was he right. "Oh my goodness. That's amazing," I gasped. "Mmm. Good girl. You learn so fast," Matt whispered into my ear.

"That's how you masturbate, princess. But just because I showed you doesn't mean you can go doing it at church," Matt teased me. "You should only do this when you're by yourself or with me, and you should only ever think about me when you do it, okay?" He looked into my eyes to make sure I understood. "Yes, Matt," I nodded. "And just because I showed you this, doesn't mean you shouldn't still come to me when you need to be taken care of," he smiled at me, "just a little trick for when you're desparate."

He started finger fucking me a little faster, and I felt myself on the brink of another explosion happening. I continued to rub my clit in a circular motion like Matt had showed me. "Just relax into it, princess. Take slow, deep breaths," Matt whispered into my neck as I came undone around his digits.

I did as he told me, and I swear, purposely slowing down my breath added a whole new dimension to the rhythmic current of pleasure that overtook me. Time seemed to stop for just a moment, and I got lost in the sensual gratification I'd been mentally chasing since the last time Matt had me unraveling under his touch.

I came down from my orgasm like a feather floating to the ground, and a warm buzz lingered over my body for several minutes after I came. "Do you wanna know what you taste like?" Matt asked me, and I made an unsure face at him, but he held his fingers up to my lips, and I gently sucked on them. "Hmm. Tastes kinda weird," I told him. Matt licked his fingers clean while he looked at me, "I think you taste so sweet, princess."

Once we were finished, Matt helped me back into my panties. Then he changed his pants and gently teased me about the wet spot I made on his knee. "You were such a good girl for me today," he smirked. "Don't you want me to take care of you?" I asked, batting my eyelashes at him. "Of course I do, sweetheart, but I've gotta get you home and go pick up my brothers. What really matters is that we get you off. We can take care of me next week," he sweetly responded. "Matt, I can't wait until next Wednesday. I need you sooner than that," I whined desperately.

"Meet me under the oak tree on Sunday after church, princess," he brushed his thumb against my cheek while he looked at me with his blue eyes full of lust and hunger. "Let's get you home safe and sound, angel."

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sturnzluv @sturniolo-girl @strnlxlqve @sofieeeeex

(I kept the taglist short because I'm not sure if everyone who asked to be on my taglist wants to read this blasphemy, lol)

part three posted here 💖

[anyarose011]

"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

 “It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

 “I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.��� You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

[guilty-pleasures21]

I've been thinking a lot about Jason Todd who hates when reader gets interested in bikes (obviously cuz is dangerous) and ask about his bike, and ask him to teach reader how to drive it. Then after a time of convincing he teach how to and eventually, even with him saying he hates it, reader get into a accident. My man would be PISSED, of course he would first worry and cry a bit, then, after that is just lecture and talk talk talk about it

The motorbike

Sigh. I know this format is cheating, but I’m in the mood for this style right now, so, it helps me get fics out quicker 😅.

I hope you like it though! It’s such a cute request and actually so innocent, but I just couldn’t resist adding in the naughty scenes in the middle 🤭! 

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

----------------------------------------------------------

Biker!Jason Todd who pulls up outside your workplace on his motorbike. 

It wasn’t as sleek and fancy as the one he used as Red Hood, but it was still pretty cool! You raise your hand to wave at him in greeting, but are interrupted by one of your colleagues beside you. 

“Wow,” she breathes, gazing admiringly at Jason sitting on his bike. “That guy is so hot!” 

“I know, right?” you agree, sighing forlornly as his white streak falls into his eyes. He brushes it away in irritation, then grins when he sees you standing there. You return his wave and your colleague turns to you with a confused look on her face. “I love him. Bye, Drea, see you tomorrow!” 

You skip over to Jason to wrap your arms around him and press a kiss to the side of his head. 

“Hey, princess,” he chuckles, handing you your helmet. “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” you tell him, sliding onto the seat behind him and curling your arms around his waist. “How was your day?” 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he tells you, starting up his bike again. “You ready?” 

“Yup!” you chirp, clinging tightly to your boyfriend as he zooms back to your place. You smile as the wind sweeps across you, delighting in the exhilarating freedom that explodes through your chest every time you’re on his motorcycle. But all too soon, it’s over and you’re back in your carpark taking off your helmet while lamenting your lack of a bike licence. 

Biker!Jason Todd who can’t deny the excitement he feels when you slide yourself onto his motorbike in front of him.

He’d just come back from a mission and was pleasantly surprised to find you waiting in the private garage he’d normally park his bike in. You stroll over to him as he switches the ignition off and he finds himself hypnotised by the slow swishing of your hips. He lowers his arm so you can climb onto the seat, then he grabs the handlebars again and waits for your next move. 

You slide your hands up your boyfriend’s chest, then run them across his broad shoulders before taking his helmet off. You swallow hard at the smirk he wears as he looks at you, his green eyes glinting with mischief, then you set his helmet on the ground. 

Your body grows warm as you curl yourself back around your boyfriend, this time lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. He shifts in position slightly, adjusting himself so that your core is pressing up against his, but he still refuses to touch you, keeping his hands glued to his handlebars as he watches you with that naughty smirk. You brush your thumb across his jaw, bringing your mouth closer to his, and his lips part instinctively in anticipation of your touch. You smile as his eyelids flutter shut, delighting in the hold you have over your large and strong boyfriend, then you close the distance between you. 

Biker!Jason Todd who tightens his grip on the handlebars as you grind yourself against him. 

You were so f*cking hot, the way you kept whining and moaning for his d*ck as you rubbed yourself against it desperately. He wanted to touch you so bad, but it turned him on so much more to watch you using his body to pleasure yourself. Jason smiles against your lips as you kiss him hungrily, then he groans when you swing your legs back down and pull yourself up onto his lap. You pant heavily as your eyes travel across his face, dark with lust, and he loses his mind at how pretty you look, your dark hair framing your flushed face as you try to catch your breath. 

You grab the collar of Jason’s jacket, admiring how hot he looks in his Red Hood costume, then you lower your lips back to his, stroking his tongue with your own. You reach down and slide your hand in between your bodies, fumbling with his zip so you can undo his trousers. Then you slip your hand into his underwear and take hold of him, running your fingers along his shaft and circling his tip with your thumb. 

“Mmm, f*ck,” Jason breathes, his tip already swollen and leaking for you. He pushes his hips forward, seeking out your delicious warmth, but you giggle softly and shuffle backwards. 

“Y/N,” Jason growls, moving his hands to your hips to hold you in position against him. You let out another laugh and Jason feels all the blood rush to his core as you expose the delicate length of your neck to him. 

“I just want to turn around, Jay,” you reassure him, your tone teasing. Jason reluctantly lets his hands fall to his sides, giving you the space to stand up and remove your shorts before you get back on his bike again. You stretch yourself out, brushing your ass against his cock, and Jason digs his fingers into your soft flesh as a muttered curse falls from his lips. 

Biker!Jason Todd whose brain goes numb with arousal as you slide up and down on his cock. 

Holy shit! F*ck! How had he never had the idea to f*ck you on his motorcycle?! You looked so f*cking adorable, squealing and crying as he thrust himself into you from behind. 

“J-Jay … Jay … Turn it on … sweetheart,” you plead with him. 

“Huh?” He doesn’t understand what you’re saying at first, his brain too dizzy with lust to comprehend anything, but then you close your hand around his and twist the handlebar in explanation. Jason swallows hard when he realises what you’re asking for, then he switches his bike back on. 

“Oh my gooooooood,” you moan, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of the engine vibrating against your clit while your boyfriend fills your p*ssy up with his thick, fat cock. You feel the tears gather at the edges of your eyes as he begins pumping you full with his d*ck again, the pleasure building up inside you until it feels like you’re about to explode. Then finally, you come, shuddering violently around Jason’s cock so that he quickly reaches his edge too. 

“Missed me that bad, huh, princess?” Jason chuckles, leaning over to nibble on your ear. You whimper at the gravelly tone of his voice, then nod in agreement, adding another reason to love motorbikes to the list in your head.  

Biker!Jason Todd who frowns when you finally ask him if he can teach you how to ride his bike. 

“No,” he replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turns his attention back to the TV, but you know he has a soft spot for you and with enough begging, he’ll always give in. 

“Please, Jay?” you plead, making your eyes as round as possible as you twist your head to look up at him. He studiously avoids your gaze, knowing that a single glance at you would smash a crippling hole into his resolve. 

“Jay Jay?” you whine, your voice getting all soft and breathy in just the way it does whenever you’re whispering the sweetest - and most filthy - things in his ear. You slide your hand down his leg, your fingers brushing along the inside of his muscular thigh, and he twitches slightly at the pleasant feeling. “Please, baby?” 

You scratch his knee gently and Jason shifts in his seat, trying to put a little distance between the two of you. But you’ve got him trapped against the edge of the sofa, no room for escape. You swing your leg over his, brushing your knee against his groin and Jason feels his body start to warm up as you glide your hand up his torso. You curl your fingers around his shoulder, then bend over to press your lips to the crook of his neck. 

Biker!Jason Todd who finds himself losing control over his thoughts as you lick your way up his neck. 

“Mmm …” You let out a soft moan every time you press an open-mouthed kiss to his skin and he feels himself getting painfully hard at the way your knee continues to brush against his core. You slip your hands beneath the hem of his shirt and Jason sucks in a breath as his entire body tightens at the feeling of your fingers climbing up his bare skin. 

“Y-Y/N,” he stammers, stubbornly holding onto his resolve. You let out another moan as your back arches, allowing your desperate p*ssy to rub up against his thick thigh, and Jason goes dizzy at the sound of your pleasure. 

“Come on, baby,” you mumble into his ear. “You always take such good care of me, Jay. Aren’t you going to take care of me now? Aren’t you going to teach your princess how to ride your huge … bike?” 

Jason gasps at the sensual way you say the word - like it wasn’t his bike you were asking him to teach you to ride. But you were right: his bike was huge and he wasn’t going to let you hurt yourself trying to ride it. 

“It’s too dangerous, baby,” he argues, his voice soft, like he was on the precipice of giving in to you. You pounce on the moment of weakness, seizing your only chance. 

“But that’s what I’ve got you for, Jay,” you murmur back, your hand drifting across his body as you start grinding your p*ssy against his thigh. “To keep me safe? I know you’ll keep me safe, baby. I’ll listen to everything you say. I promise! I just …”

You sit back and curl your fingers around the waistband of his pants, pressing your lips together to hide your victorious smirk: you were so close to convincing him to surrender to you! And now it was time for the final strike. “I don’t trust anyone else to teach me, Jay. I know no one else could ever take care of me like you do.” 

You fix him with a pout, your eyes wide as you look up at him from beneath your curly lashes. And that’s the final straw for him. 

“You’re right,” he decides, his fingers working quickly to unbutton your shorts. “No one else … could ever take care of you … in the way that I do, baby. You want me to teach you how to ride my bike? You want me to teach you how to ride? I’ll teach you how to ride, princess. But you have to listen to everything I say, got it?” 

You nod eagerly, moving to let him slide your shorts off and give him his reward for listening to you: you had the man wrapped around your finger.

Biker!Jason Todd who regrets his decision immediately when you remind him of it the next morning. 

He’d have to make some sort of rule against you asking him for things when the two of you were having sex: it just wasn't fair for you to expect him to think rationally when your delicious little body was grinding up against him! 

You try to tamp down your excitement as Jason guides you through how to operate his bike, his hands covering yours as he sits right behind you. He'd talked you through all the mechanics and safety procedures before finally letting you get onto it, but you'd sat through it all quietly, knowing that he just wanted to make sure you were safe. A bark of laughter escapes your throat as you start moving and you giggle giddily as you navigate the bike around the carpark. You were moving extremely slowly, Jason's hands never releasing their protective hold on yours, but you were finally doing it! You were finally riding a motorcycle!

You continue around in circles for about a half hour before Jason - to your disappointment - decides that that's enough for today. You swallow down your sigh, grateful for him to have let you do this much already, and secretly decide to sign up for driving classes when he's busy with another mission. 

Biker!Jason Todd whose heart stops when he gets the phone call from the hospital.

You'd gotten into a small accident, the nurse had informed him over the phone, and that was all he'd heard before rushing over to the hospital to see you. 

“Y/N?!” he exclaims, bursting into your room after quickly outrunning the nurses trying to calm him down. “Princess, are you all right?!” 

He rushes to your bedside, but stops himself from grabbing your hand, terrified that he might damage you more than you'd already been. What the f*ck?! How the hell could he have let this happen?! He'd known that it was a bad idea - from the very beginning, he'd told you that he didn't want you riding a motorbike on your own. It was too dangerous and the people of Gotham didn't give a shit about anyone else on the road, but you just had to insist on putting your life in danger just because of a stupid-

“Jason,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on top of his. “I'm fine. I was wearing my helmet and all the safety gear you told me to, so I only sprained my ankle a little.”

You smile up at him, an angry bruise on your cheekbone, and his eyes well up at the sight. He reaches up to cup your face in his hand, then he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“Where's the doctor?” he asks suddenly, searching the room for one. “I want to know-”

“Jay.” You grab his wrist as he moves to stand, stopping him in his tracks. He turns to you in question and you pat the edge of your bed, gesturing for him to sit down. He obliges, but continues to fix you with an irritated frown. “The doctor said I'm fine. She checked everywhere for injuries and said I probably don't need an x-ray because-”

“Probably?!” he repeats, his tone incredulous. “You probably don't need an x-ray?! I guess they didn't do a scan either to check for a concussion because you ‘probably’ didn't hurt yourself after being in a serious accident!” 

“Minor!” you interject quickly, slightly amused by the way your boyfriend stalks around the room in a concerned rage. “I swerved to avoid a car while I was still in the circuit and accidentally slipped on my bike. I was going really slow, so I basically just fell over onto my side.”

You fix him with your sweetest smile - the one that always calmed him down when he was upset - and just like that, he feels the rage start to leave his body. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands in his. “But you are never getting on another bike again, got it? I'm not letting you anywhere near anything with two wheels, unless I'm there too. We'll take my car from now on, and I'm not letting you get into a car with a stranger either, so you can delete all those rideshare apps on your phone …”

You snicker softly as your overprotective boyfriend continues on his rant, but maybe it was time for you to give in to him for once.

“I promise I won't touch another bike again,” you interrupt Jason, your tone serious. Then you break into a smile and give him a cheeky little wink. “Unless it's to have sex with you on it.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way his lips twitch at the corners as he pulls you into his chest. “Deal.”

I hope I did all right 😅!

[changisworld]

GURL i found out today that pierce called vertical clitoral hood piercing is real thing😭🙏🏻 (found out about it on chai) soooo

Can you please please please write skz reaction to reader getting that piercing:3 LOVE YAAA ❤❤❤

-🦇

i have it done so i can indeed confirm it is real>:3 BUT THIS IS MELTING MY BRAIN OH MY GID

BANGCHAN

he would definitely be SO surprised the first time he sees it because he honestly just thought it existed in the world of porn & he never saw much of an appeal UNTIL YOU GOT ONE, now he is obsessed. He definitely loves flicking it with his tongue & purposely bashing his nose against it, just to see you flinch at the weird sensation heheh.

Definitely loves putting ice on it, trying to have it just touch the metal but your clit tenses up at the sensation & you can feel the middle part of the bar going cold too & this is when you found out you were into temperature play!

LEE KNOW

oh my god. saying he loves this piercing is an UNDERSTATEMENT. he didn’t expect you to have one but the second he seen it he was having to hold back his own drool behind his lips. He definitely uses the excuse of “i just wanna make sure there’s nothing wrong with it!” or “it’s just cool” as an excuse to have you naked on your bottom half for him to ‘examine’ it

definitely looovesss spanking your pussy even more now, feeling the metal sting his finger the tiniest bit as he does so & loves seeing your cunt get all puffy & the piercing sitting so pretty & snug>:3

CHANGBIN

would maybe the tiniest bit intimidated by it at first?? not by the look of it but just in case he hurts it on accident, but once you completely throw that idea of his out the window, he is ALLLLLLL FOR IT!! looves to suckle on it as he buries his chubby fingers into you, swirling his tongue over your clit before moving the other fingers of his that are holding your cunt in a ‘V’ shape to let it ever so slightly go deeper into his mouth, giving it even more attention as he does so hehehehe

loves spitting onto it while he fucks you too!! watching you slowly get used to how much he is spitting onto your pussy, the coldness of his spit warming up slowly as it drips down to where his cock is pistoning in & out of you

HYUNJIN

this man is obsessed with it to the bottom of his heart & not even fully in just a sexual way!! he always begs you so nicely to let him draw your pussy, telling you how beautiful it is & how the piercing adds an extra flare & who would you be to say no to such a handsome face?? It starts off innocently & he draws the same pussy he has memorised down to every last detail but by the end of it, he is for sure sucking the soul out of you!

this man will never not be obsessed with the piercing ever since you got it, he finds it so hot infact, that he can easily jerk off & cum to the drawings he does of your pussy, sometimes purposely cumming onto the paper, just to fold it up & give it to you.

HAN JISUNG

obviously the most obsessed with the bit of metal more than anyone else could ever be.. x100. he will put his hand down your pants & just cup your pussy, feeling around your piercing & dragging his finger across it, just for fun & for honestly no real reason, it doesn’t even always lead to sex! he is just a perv who luvs it & is way better & more attractive than any of the porn he watches.

loves using a vibrator on you, watching the metal vibrate along with the item he’s holding, it giving you the tiniest bit of extra feeling, he doesn’t stop until you squirt all over the vibrator & over him, the small barbell getting even wetter.

FELIX

i think the poor boy would be a tiny bit nervous about it at first, mainly because he doesn’t know if you having it would change how your clit feels when aroused & he doesn’t know if he has to touch you differently & he’s scared on messing up, but once you teach him how to do it, he finds out he barely has to change anything, much to his luck!! he would be lying if he didn’t mentally admit that he has a bit of gender envy, because he wishes he could have one!

his favourite part about it is definitely watching you play with your clit, your fingers grazing over it every time you do so & he almost (he has a few times) cums in his pants when he watches you fully expose your clit, the jewellery getting tighter on the thin piece of skin, all shiny & pretty.

SEUNGMIN

this is one of his biggest fantasies COME TRUE!! he’s always liked piercings, nipple piercings, belly button piercings, pussy piercings>:3 his favourite thing to do with this knowledge of him knowing you have the piercing is using pussy pumps!! he loves watching your cunt get swollen & red through the tinted, pink clear plastic suction cup around your mound & watching you hiss & squirm!

Once he unsuctions it after he’s pushed you within a centimetre of your limit, he is landing harsh spanks on your pussy & even going as far as to twiddle the jewellery in his fingers as he drags his other fingers up & down your folds, teasing you even more.

JEONGIN

i truly think he would be the most excited to see it out of all the members! to him, it’s slightly ‘taboo’ to him since he knows how uncommon it is, so when he saw yours for the first time, he almost fully melted into the bed. his favourite thing to do is definitely eat you through your panties, to the point the fabric is uncomfortably stuck to your soaked core & seeing the jewellery sticking through the panties, the imprint visible.

LOVESSS to rub his cock up & down your clothed core, your panties & his spit along with his own precum soaking his own cock too, his tip bashing against your clit & he is so obsessed with the whimpers you let out as you beg him to stop teasing.

->requests/asks are open!

->taglist & anon list is open!

->A/N: SORRRY 🦇 hunny for not replying to all your requests, i’ve been super super busy🥲 you can keep spamming me(along with all my anons!!) & i will get back to them eventually I PINKY PROMISE

[clockwayswrites]

I didn’t write two parts this week or anything. Nope.

But apparently you all have been very good/bad/tired/enby and deserve to be spoiled. Who am I to deny that?

Master List: Start of ‘Thirst Trap Lessons‘ wc 1220

Danny jolted up, going out of frame on the video call. "I have to seduce Red Hood."

"...dude," Tucker said after a moment. "He already likes you."

"As Jason."

"You just said they're the same person," Sam pointed out.

"That’s not important, not if they're pretending they're not. He's not, I mean. If I want to date Jason I have to convince Red Hood to let me and the easiest way to do that is to get with Red Hood too."

"Just pointing out that, again, he already likes you, my dude."

"As Jason. How is this confusing you?"

Sam sighed in that soul weary way that only someone who had been friends with Danny for years could sigh. "You're the one being weird. They're one person."

"With totally different lives.” How were they not getting this. They had been friends with him during his Phantom era. They had to understand the vigi life a little. Just because Jason and Red Hood were the ‘same person’ it didn’t mean they had the same needs or wants or even personality. “Nope. Need to seduce Red Hood."

"Danny, no." Two voices chimed back at the same time.

"Danny yes," he said, his smirk visible for a moment as he ducked down and ended the call.

He set his laptop aside and dug out his phone from between the couch cushions. It took him a moment to find the right number in his contact list.

"Danny?" The confusion in the voice was warranted. While they had all left Amity Park on surprisingly good terms, it was weird for him to outright call someone who wasn’t Sam or Tucker. Still, she was his best bet.

"Paulina,”Danny said. He knew that his grin was obvious in his voice and didn’t try to hold it back. “I need you to teach me how to be a lowkey thirst trap so I can seduce my accidental sugar daddy's boyfriend and date them both."

Silence hung heavy on the line. And then Paulina answered, "...oh we are so going shopping."

-

After some back and forth, Danny ended up going to Paulina in Metropolis. Paulina did demand to visit Gotham sometime, but pointed out she knew the stores in Metropolis already so shopping there would be way easier. This was especially true since she was in Metropolis to go to school for Fashion Merchandising.

Danny was pretty proud of her for that.

It was the two of them who had scattered to the East coast after graduation. A few had made it to the West coast, one down to somewhere in Texas, and the bulk had stayed in the Midwest. They weren’t all close, not by any means, but they tended to check in with each other in a sporadic group chat. Mostly it was talking about how freakishly normal everywhere else was.

Not that Danny could claim that about Gotham. (He thought the others might be sorta jealous of that.)

Still, even if it wasn’t a busy chat, it was a nice tether to have. It was a reminder that the insanity of their childhood had been real, but that they had made it out (mostly) alive despite it all. It was also a way to check in if they were being a little too weird— if the rest of the world really was that dulled.

“So,” Paulina started, smacking Danny’s hand away from where he was poking at his face mask again.

Apparently Thirst Trap Lessons started with a spa day.

“So?” Danny repeated, just to be an ass.

Paulina didn’t disappoint him and rolled her eyes. “So, now that we’re settled and soaking and alone, tell me about these people you’re trying to seduce.”

“Okay, well. Right. So this is a secret, which I won’t ask if you can keep because we’re Amity Parkers.” Danny said. He gave her the obligatory fist bump at that.

They had really come together as a class once the fact he was Phantom had become an open secret among the other students. None of them ever turned him in to the GIW or his parents. He liked to think it was more care than the fact that he had been revealed saving them all from being pulled into a realm of unending torture along with the school.

Amity Parkers knew how to keep secrets, they had proven that.

“They’re both the same person? Secret identity stuff. Just no one seems to know that.”

Paulina hummed. “Any people think they’re dating?”

“Apparently. One of them is Jason—”

“Sugar Daddy or boyfriend?”

“Sugar Daddy. Jason is… well, I’m pretty sure he’s rich? Even if he lives in Crime Alley.”

“Oh, so really a Sugar Daddy.”

Danny blushed red under his face mask. “I guess? Except I don’t think he knows he’s doing it! I sure didn’t. He just likes to help. He’s involved in a lot of charity stuff. But I’m pretty sure the money is his? Or his family’s? I don’t think it’s Red Hood’s.”

Paulina’s head let her head fall to the side so she could give Danny A Look at that. “Red Hood.”

“His other side. Sorta, um… anti-hero, vigilante, crime lord?” Danny said quickly in a squeak.

“Danny Fenton! What are you doing getting mixed up with vigilantism again!” She shouted, leaning over the edge of her tub to slap at his arm. “You were supposed to be—” Slap. “—done—” Slap. “—with—” Slap. “—that!”

“I am! Stop slapping me! I am done with it. I don’t help out or anything! I didn’t even know about the Red Hood part until Jason insisted I get some self-defense training because he was worried about me. And then I show up and bam— he’s also Red Hood!”

“And no one knows?”

“Not that I’ve met.”

Paulina was glaring at him again. “And just how did you notice?”

“He, um, might sorta be a Revenant?”

Slap. “Danny!”

“Come on Paulina, he’s amazing! He’s kind and confident and you should see his thighs,” Danny defended himself. “And… and since he’s died before maybe if this actually goes somewhere it means that he won’t…”

“Oh Danny,” Paulina said in a much softer tone.

Danny smiled a sad, lopsided little thing. “Don’t say my name like that. It’s something I have to think about. That’s just being realistic.”

Danny squirmed under Paulina’s gaze for a long minute before she finally looked away. “So one persona is a rich do gooder and the other a vigilante and everyone thinks they’re dating.”

“I know, wild how everyone just assumes that. They’re never even in the same room!”

“Not really,” Paulina said with a shrug. “Before we knew you were, you know, you, the whole school totally thought that Danny-you and Phantom-you were dating.”

Danny chocked on air. “What?!?”

“Like, I mean, so, you were always defending his name and Sam and Tucker would ask you if he was alright after ghost attacks and you got, like, all protective whenever the GIW was in town,” Paulina said. “So we thought you were dating you. I was totally jealous too.”

“Oh Ancients. Is that why everyone was asking me things like if Phantom felt cold to the touch?” Danny squeaked.

Paulina just laughed at him as Danny slid further down into his mud bath.

-----

AN: Ailithnight’s reply here was spot on that Danny was treating Jason and Red Hood like they had two separate needs even knowing they were one person, so I felt motivated to go off and finish up this scene that goes into his thought process for it. Please ignore that it really doesn’t have a start. I just really like the idea of Danny getting that it’s different in and out of the suit and while it’s not like it’s actually two personalities, there still are two very different needs and he has to step up and date both. It’s also nice that he can be more Phantom around Red Hood (Danny misses him a little).

I don’t know if I got Paulina’s Voice right, but I tried! I just find this concept hilarious, and I also think she’d understand masking, from a social side, maybe too well. Hope you all enjoyed being spoiled today and say delightful, darlings!

Good Squad, as you’ve named yourselves:

@addie-lover-of-stories​ @bathildaburp​ @d4ydr34min9​ @sometimesthingsfallapart​  @vythika96​ @worthlesswall​ @aroranorth-west​ @chrysanthemum9484​ @ver-444​ @impulsiveasshole​ @meira-3919​ @lazy-bouqet​ @cryinginthevoid​ @thegatorsgoose​ @cutelittlebeanie​ @blankliferain​ @ramblingkat​ @screamingtofillthevoid​ @themirrorghost​ @skulld3mort-1fan​ @may-rbi​ @nixthenerd​ @moonlupine​ @olivethetreebitch​ @overtherose​ @roseinbloom02​ @v-inari​ @nappinginhell​ @imchildish8775​ @leftmiraclechaos​ @mimilikey​ @mygood-bitch99​ @ailithnight​ @busterkeel​ @avelnfear​ @ravenshadow17​ @demigraceling-blog​ @maskygirl55​ @sroomheaddoc​ @undead-essence​ @desertbogwitch​ @addie-lover-of-stories​ @magic-pincushion​ @phantom-dc​ @lazy-bouqet​ @gin2212​ @meira-3919​ @apointlessbox​  @hollowgast1​ @cutelittlebeanie​ @friends-fam-fiends-hellothere​ @serasvictoria02​ @dulceringo​ @moonlupine​ @mushroom-jack​ @icedbluesoul​ @lumosfeather18581​ @impulsiveasshole​ @coruscateselene​ @escelia​ @firegirl108​ @roseinbloom02​ @crystalqueertea​ @booberrylizard​ @phoenixdemonqueen​ @shorterthanadverage​ @pyramaniac​ @seraphinedemort​ @fallenangle67​ @chaoticchange​ @soren1830​ @trippingovermyfeet​ @nutcase8691​ @themirrorghost​ @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff​ @a-salty-sal​ @guardianrex​ @dsabian​ @crystalqueertea​ @v-inari​ @8-29pm​ @consouling​ @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair​​

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 3

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

The first week of living with Agatha and Rio has been difficult, to say the least. It’s been labour, labour, and labour, over and over again. You’ve had dirt under your nails after every morning with Rio in her garden, and you head right back inside to Agatha afterwards, letting her wash your hands clean as she tests you on Rio’s Earth Magick lessons.

The most difficult part is actually keeping your hands and eyes to yourself; it’s impossible not to lean into Agatha’s gentle touch as she rubs your hands with soapy water, taking her time to get your fingertips clean. A few days after this routine, she bought out a kit to care for your nails, cutting your nails short enough to not get dirt deep under them, then filing them down until they’re smooth.

“When will you teach me?” you asked Agatha one afternoon as she wiped your wet, freshly cleaned hands with a hand towel.

Agatha pauses, looking at you with amusement in her gaze. “Are you not satisfied with Rio’s teachings?”

Your eyes widen in panic as you immediately shake your head. “No, I am! I’m enjoying my lessons very much,” you answer, desperate to not seem ungrateful.

Agatha raises a brow at you. “Then what, pray tell, is the issue?” she teases with a knowing smile, standing up to place the towel on the side of the washstand. Your eyes follow her movements, glued to the way the tight brown vest she’s wearing shows off her figure that would be otherwise hidden by the flowy white shirt she has on under it, “I asked you a question, little dove.”

The sudden sternness in her tone grips your throat, forcing you to choke and stutter, falling into a sudden cough as nervousness takes over you. Her soft hands are on your cheeks in seconds, the commanding gaze in her eyes taken over by concern.

“Breathe, darling,” she soothes, her thumb rubbing at your temple, up and down, “Follow my lead,” she says, taking your hand to her chest before you can protest the closeness. It feels far too intimate, especially considering she has a lover, one that is just outside these walls tending to her garden.

“Agatha,” you pant out, trying to catch your breath but becoming even more breathless when you blink your eyes open to find Agatha’s eyes, darkened, hooded as you breathe her name out, “I–I’m sorry–”

“What ever for?” she says confusedly, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding your face in her gentle hands as if you could never do wrong in her eyes. She breaks away from you the moment she hears the backdoor opening then closing shut.

After that discussion with Agatha, something seemed to have switched. Rio was more distant in her teachings, mumbling incoherent thoughts to herself after she tasked you with planting a new type of flower using Magick. You’ve made a mistake or two, but after that you got the hang of it pretty quickly, sometimes whispering the incantations in bed to make sure you keep the memorised. But, distracted by thoughts of Agatha’s touch and Rio’s distance, you messed this one up.

“Come on,” you grumble frustratedly, whispering the incantation again and again but the only azalea that blooms is one that dies moments later.

Rio comes up behind you, twirling a large pair of scissors in her hands. She watches you fail again and again, humming as you get angrier and angrier with yourself. She only steps in the moment she sees your nails digging into the inside of your palms. Her hands cover your fists, the sudden touch shocking you, unexpected from her.

“Don’t do that,” she simply demands, nodding her head at you when you whisper an apology and relax your fingers. Hers relaxes on top of yours, hesitantly hovering. She doesn’t really want to let go, you think, hearing her ragged breathing behind you as she moves closer.

“Rio,” you breathe out, leaning into her touch as her nose brushes through your hair, gently resting against your neck. Your breath hitches as you hear her gently take a breath in, immediately growling and burrowing her face deeper, “Rio, is everything okay?” you manage to ask between your heavy breathing. Your words seem to bring her back to her senses as she freezes behind you for a moment before jumping back as if your skin was on fire.

Without another word, just quiet muttering, Rio spins on her heel and practically sprints back inside, leaving you to tend to her plants. Doing your very best, you take a deep breath and calm your mind, and whisper the incantation again until you get it right.

You don’t understand what triggered your dream a few nights later. Typically, the dreams that meet you are sweet, innocent, and peaceful. You suppose the feeling you had by the end of it was peaceful in a way, but it was definitely not innocent…

You dreamt of Agatha’s hands. She was sitting in front of you but you were on her and Rio’s bed, not your own. She had on the thinnest nightgown, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. But you barely had time to gaze at her, your eyes shut tightly the moment you felt those hands that are always so gentle to you, but this time they were gentle elsewhere. And as you moaned at Agatha’s touch, Rio was behind you, kissing you to breathe your sounds in, her earthy scent wrapped around your lungs.

You refused to let yourself dream this way since your banishment, as this was the very reason for it. There’s something wrong with you for wanting this, for wanting to be touched this way. Desire was wrong, is what your coven believed. All forms of it. You lived day-by-day, rationing food because it kept your gluttony tamed. The simple idea of wanting something more than the necessity was a terrifying thought to you as you grew up. Because the older you got, the more you wanted. You started to see things, see people differently. Men, and women, a sharp jawline, piercing eyes, lips so pretty and pink. You started to want. It was bearable, avoidable, until it wasn’t. Until you got caught.

You will not get caught again. You cannot be banished from here, you don’t think you could bear it. So when you woke up that morning, you beat yourself up in the mirror, glaring until the dream disappeared into the back of your mind. You applied some powder to hide the blush in your cheeks before finally making an appearance.

“Good morning,” you greet Rio and Agatha as you walk into the kitchen, “May I help with breakfast?” you offer with a warm smile, waiting patiently for an order.

The pair in front of you raise their brows suspiciously. Rio crosses her arms over her chest as Agatha continues stirring the pot over the fire.

“You wish to help?” Agatha asks with humour twinged in her tone.

You nod enthusiastically, clearing your throat before stepping forward. “The two of you have been incredibly kind to me. I feel I have not done enough to…to earn what you freely give.”

Agatha’s stirring pauses at this, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder. You cannot read her eyes this time, clearly unable to break through the extra guard she’s put up there. You were sure you used the right words; Agatha herself said you needed to earn their trust that first morning.

“We have to go. For a while,” Rio breaks the tense silence by dropping that pin. You freeze, your chest tightening as you try to fight the panic creeping up, “We have business to attend to.”

Agatha senses your fear and tries her best to soothe you before you begin to panic. “We will only be gone a short while, little dove, and we will be right back here. We have some things for you to do while we are gone.”

The reassurance that they will be back is enough for the panic to dissipate for now. But with that comes a new surge of humiliation at your feelings. You have only been here with them a short while, a few weeks now, and you already feel attached to them. This has become about more than just learning the ways of Magick. It has become about them, about the small moments spent with Agatha and Rio. Are you meant to wake up alone, have breakfast alone, tend to the garden and the household chores alone?

Agatha carries on, taking the pot off the heat and coming to stand in front of you. “I want you to study. I have books, spellbooks and history books, books of all kinds. It will surely keep your mind occupied, little dove,” she smiles softly at you, raising a hand to brush your hair out of your face. But that only exposes the fear in your eyes, fear of abandonment. Agatha frowns, shaking her head lightly and pulling you closer, this time into a hug. You breathe deeply as you bury your face into her neck, the scent of lavender and honey taking over your senses.

Rio’s hand suddenly presses against your back, startling you momentarily before her fingers trail up and down your spine soothingly. “We will be back before you know it, sweetling,” she reassures in a kind whisper, a freaky juxtaposition with the frowning look on her face.

The position reminds you of your dream; a soft wave of desire surges through you, making you swap a little, unsure whose touch you want to lean towards. They seem to sense your struggle, both leaning in until you have Agatha’s front pressed to yours and Rio’s pressed to your back. A soft sigh escapes your lips from the heat of their bodies. Strong but gentle arms creep until they’re wrapped around your waist, and another pair slither around your neck until you’re secure, warm, safe.

“We’ll be back,” Agatha whispers, her soft lips brushing against your flushed cheek, fingers gently sifting through your hair.

Agatha wasn’t lying when she said she had all types of books in her little study. The shelves are overflowed, disorganised with piles straight and some stacked together. There are even a few on the ground next to the various plants Rio has planted into pots scattered around. There’s Magick everywhere here; you can taste it each time you step into the space.

The spellbooks are complicated to understand without a teacher, so you pass on those after attempting to read a few pages. But it’s the history books that managed to catch your attention. You were unaware that there is a written history of your community, of witches. It took you a few chapters before you realised the handwriting is oddly messy. Once you reach the chapter titled ‘Agatha Harkness’ you slam the book shut, concluding that Agatha herself must have written this. It feels wrong to read the history of her life, a strange invasion of privacy. Not only that, but part of you wishes to learn things about her from her, spending more time with her and Rio. 

After a while, you open it up again, but this time skipping her chapter. The next is entitled–

Oh.

‘Intimacy’.

It’s a chapter on sex, and the more you read, the faster your breathing gets, realising the majority of this is focussed on female relationships. It’s more of a history of sapphic culture within the witch community, emphasising the healing power of unity, and the heightened pleasure of mixing Magick with sex. It shocks you when you reach a page with an illustration of a coven in a forest, clearly all engaging in sexual activity together.

Slamming the book shut, you hurry to your bedroom and force yourself to sleep to avoid the heat pulsing between your legs – despite the Sun still shining brightly. But thoughts of Agatha and Rio find you in your dreams, forcing you awake in a sweaty gasp. This is wrong. It must be, as the alternative is all you have known your entire life is wrong, and that thought terrifies you.

You cannot think about them this way. You will not give in to the monstrous desire, and you will do all you can to tame it, as you should have done months ago. If you had, you would still have a coven, a family, and your mother.

Sleep will not find you that night and the Sun is only just setting. To avoid your thoughts, you decide to ready yourself to head back to the Inn for the night, needing a drink or two to hopefully lull you to sleep later. It is isolating in this cabin, despite it feeling like home now. It’s not home when you’re without them.

Unsure of when Agatha and Rio are to return, you decide to spend most of the evening at the Inn. It’s good to see some regulars still there, the singing man tipping his hat in apology when he spots you mid-song. The hour is later and your limbs are lighter after a few drinks, a few easy conversations, a few happy claps of your hands to the music. That is when she finds you.

“Y/N!” The innkeeper’s daughter yells out your name, rushing down the steps from her lodgings. She holds onto her dress to avoid tripping but lets go to tackle you in a deep hug.

“Catherine, it is always lovely to see you,” you greet her with a laugh as she squeals, refusing to let go.

You spend the entire evening together until the latest hours of the night, drinking one too many ales, and flirting with one too many drunken men just for the two of you to run off giggling. By the time the pair of you stumble outside for fresh air, half the Inn has taken to their lodgings or left to wander drunkenly.

The two of you press against each other for warmth as the night breeze dares to tease pushing Catherine’s dress up. The sounds quiet into a hum as you pull back with a giggle, eyes blurred from the ales running through your bloodstream. The blurry face looks like Rio’s sharp jaw, and those eyes look blue with the moonlight’s reflection reminding you of Agatha.

“You’re very pretty,” you mumble shyly, turning away when her eyes widen in surprise. 

A shaky hand dares to brush against your jawline. “As are you, I always thought so,” she whispers as if it is just a secret between the two of you, “Will you tell me where you have been?” Catherine suddenly asks, her tone curious but only to hide her concern, trying to avoid telling you that she cares about you more than she should.

You turn your head away, clenching your teeth, and think of Agatha and Rio and the power they hold over you. “I cannot.”

Silence fills the space between the two of you and it makes you notice Catherine’s hand has been absentmindedly stroking your cheek for the last minute or so.

“Will you be back? Soon?” she pleads, frowning when you sigh and she takes it as a no, “Please, Y/N, I missed you dearly.”

Seeing the pained look in her eyes, you sigh again. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to visit more often; you have had an enjoyable night. You’re just unsure whether you would even want to leave when you have Agatha and Rio at home. “I will try. If not for the free ale, then for you,” you tease, pinching her cheek playfully as she giggles and leaves the softest of kisses on the tips of your fingers. She holds them against her lips, scared you’ll pull away from the intimacy, but your drunken mind soaks it up. It’s been terribly lonely at the cabin; a little attention here doesn’t hurt.

But suddenly, a throat clears by your side, forcing you to push her touch away in fear of being caught by an agitated drunken man. But what you find is far worse. There stand Agatha and Rio, dressed in acceptable dresses but their hair up in a quick tie, letting you know they came here quickly. Their expressions are mostly unreadable, dark and distant. Agatha’s jawline is clenched tightly, while Rio’s brows are down to her eyelids in a glare. But you can barely focus on that; all you can focus on is that they are here, and they look so beautiful, and your heart feels like it’s about to break through your chest.

“Oh, are we blocking the entry? Apologies, friends. Come in,” Catherine laughs, grabbing your arm as she pulls you to the side. Your body moves with her but your eyes stay glued to the silent pair.

“We were just passing by,” Agatha says curtly before turning and walking away, pulling Rio with her. A feeling of dread sinks into your stomach as you watch them walk off into the darkness without you, but you cannot follow, not now. It’ll be too suspicious. You must find the patience to wait before dismissing yourself from Catherine.

By the time you head back home? Can you call it home yet? By the time you head back to their cabin, you expect them to be asleep but you can see a few candles lit through the window. Not knowing where you currently stand with them, you hesitate by the door, unsure of whether you can just walk in. Choosing to remain respectful, you knock a nervous hand to the wood, waiting for the sound of footsteps.

Rio opens the door, the glare still on her face, though the disgruntled expression is one of her more common looks anyway. She says not a word, simply turning back to march inside, leaving the door open in a silent invitation. Agatha sits on her chair by the fire, a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hand. She refuses to look at you, instead choosing to stare out the window to the moon. 

With the way the glow of the moon dances on her pale skin, she looks more beautiful than anyone you have ever laid eyes on. You cannot help but think the most skilled poets could spend years attempting to write the perfect words to describe her beauty but will only end up weeping in failure. No words could capture her.

“I did not know when you would return,” you whisper, clearing your throat when your voice croaks. Agatha does not move a muscle, so you continue, “I–If I knew, I would have been here, waiting, with–with tea, and I would have baked a pie, and–” you sigh as you cut yourself off, knowing the what ifs will do nothing to fix this, “I missed the both of you,” you settle, instantly regretting it as Agatha turns to you with a dark glare on your face.

“You missed us?” Agatha asks, her tone cold, angry, distant, “Dearly?” she adds almost mockingly, confusing your still tipsy head. 

“Honey,” Rio interrupts, trying to calm Agatha down but now that she has looked at you she cannot stop the words from coming out. Her emotions take over her face, hiding nothing of what she feels.

“We have been gone for less than a week, Y/N, and you could not control yourself?”

Your brows scrunch together. “Agatha, I am sor–”

She interrupts, the chair screeching against the wooden floor as she stands up. “Have we not given you what you have wanted? Freedom? Acceptance? What have we done to displease you so? Can you not tame your desires?”

Desires. Of course it’s about that. Despite the history books in her study, she is just the same as…as your mother. This is not acceptance, this is just like the moment your mother caught you with the tradeswomen and locked you away while the coven decided what to do with you. But this time you will do it yourself before they can.

“Y/N, I did not mean it in that way,” Agatha immediately attempts to correct herself as she observes the way your face reacts to her words, connecting the dots on what you could be thinking about, but you’ve already spun on your heel to your bedroom, tears glistening in your eyes, “Little dove,” she calls out, her tone softer, quieter, more desperate, but you cannot hear anything over than her displeasure with you, “Please, wait a moment for me to explain what I mean by–”

The door slams shut behind you, your back pressed to it to prevent them from coming in. You drop down to the ground, sliding against the door, and let the tears fall.

masterlist + guidelines

pornwplot is better, fight me on this. its coming guys patience haha

[ravenna-reid]

A BLOODY PRICE

[ Part 2 to Crimson Red ]

TW: swearing, violence (bones breaking and shooting, nothing too intense though), brief mention of attempted assault

˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁

He had her cornered.

The dim street lights were making the tears that rolled down her cheeks glisten, but no one would hear her cries or come to her aid. Not in the alley ways of Gotham City.

As she continued to tell him; "No, I don't have any money, no please," it only seemed to make him angrier. He had her by the wrists now. Rage contorted his features. She closed her eyes.

"Listen here you bitc-" He was cut off by the sound of his own bones breaking. Both of his wrists snapping forward before his hands hung low. Mock horror spread across his face as the most agonising yell left him.

As he tumbled away from the girl and fell to his knees, something else grabbed at his attention. The pair suddenly looked in the direction the slow footsteps were coming from. Heels on the wet cement. And once you stepped out of the shadows and he saw the mask. The lipstick. The lace...he realised.

"No." Weeps escaped him as he feebly attempted to get away. "No, please."

You looked over at the terrified woman as she held her wrists and watched you in anticipation. "How ironic." You scoffed, "Now he's begging. 'No, no, please.'" You mocked with a wicked smile.

"Who are you?" She asked, voice quivering.

Your eyes settled onto her and remorse began to stir in your stomach. "A friend." You said, "Now, how far away is your home?"

"It's just across the street."

"I'll watch you. Go."

She didn't hesitate, quickly moving past you and heading towards an apartment building. When the door closed behind her you looked back down at the man.

"You know, I don't think that's going to be enough to teach you a lesson." That playful glint left your eyes and was soon replaced with a deadly intent.

He began to beg again, until the sound of a gunshot split the air in two. His body hit the ground with a loud thud. Shocked, you turned, moved to the side hoping the shadows would conceal you, but another gunshot echoed through out the city as the bullet found its home in your shoulder.

In that moment, something wrapped around you and brought you down to the ground with them.

The two gunshots simmered in the air before disappearing, and everything became eerily still as Gotham continued on like nothing had happened.

"Shit." The voice said. You turned to see the Red Hood on the ground with you, arms holding on as though you were precious cargo before he quickly let go.

"Red." You breathed. A faint smile spread across your face until the pain of the gunshot began to finally kick in. You winced, and Jason began cursing himself for not reaching you in time.

"Where did he hit you?" His voice was deeper and a little robotic with his helmet on.

"My shoulder." You managed, gripping onto the upper part of your arm as if it would help with the pain. "Who-?"

"A sniper. I couldn't figure out if he was gunning for you or that pig."

You both instinctivly looked over at the man sprawled across the ground.

"Come on, can you walk?" He began to guide you up from the ground, a tender hold on your elbow and lower back.

"Yeah, my house isn't far."

Lies. And it was as though he could tell you were lying.

"I bet mine is closer. Come on, I can stitch you up."

"No, really. It's fine-" Another wince cut you short, and if Jason wasn't wearing a helmet, you'd see the concern embedded onto his face.

"You helped me," He pointed out, a little eager. "Now let me make it even."

So the Red Hood managed to convince you to go back to his place. A dark apartment filled with take-away, old books, and large windows in the lounge room, only lit up by one warm lamp.

"When I find that asshole, he's no longer going to have a spine." You said through grit teeth as he laced the stitchings through your skin.

"I wonder who it was." He said, focused on your wound. "Probably Two-Face."

You shook your head. "Sneaky son of a bitch. He knew I wouldn't be able to sense a sniper."

Suddenly, your hand flew on top of his and tightly held onto it. Jason's body stilled as his eyes darted up to you. You were squinting, until you finally let out a breath and said, "Sorry, that one had a little kick to it."

You were trying your best, but the burning sensation was beginning to get to your head. Jason nodded before apologising, his eyes on yours and his enclosed hands. You moved your hand back into your lap. Jason paused for a second before continuing on and a strange sort of silence enveloped the room.

You couldn't stop the small smirk. His hand was unexpectedly warm. And soft, even if it had a few scars on it. A blush crept onto your face and you hoped the mask was hiding it.

"I thought someone like you would handle pain a little better." He teased, cutting the string and moving to grab a bandage.

You scoffed as you stared at the bloody bullet that sat on his table.

"Well, I didn't really have to deal with pain growing up."

Jason raised a brow at you as he continued wrapping your arm.

"My sister was a healer." It was the first time you looked away from Jason, a sad, distant memory gleaming in your eyes.

"A healer and a pain inflictor?"

"Mmhm."

Watching you and how your usual confident expression melted away made him drop the topic. But his mind continued to wonder. 'My sister was a healer.' Past tense. He bit the inside of his mouth as he wondered what happened. Wondered if that was why you did what you did.

He clipped the bandage and sat back to look at his work. "All done."

You looked down and scoffed. "I didn't think I'd have to make the arms of my suit bullet proof too."

Then you looked back up at him and sent his head reeling. No snarky remarks or sarcastic comments. Jason was silent. You gazed back at one another in a comfortable silence, and he found that he really wanted to take that mask off. See who was hiding underneath. But the thought left his mind and his stomach dropped as soon as your eyes widened.

This time...you could hear a heartbeat.

As quick as a whip you were out of the chair and had your hands gripping onto his suit. Much to his shock and surprise, you were shoving Jason back, and in that split second a plethora of bullets began to shoot through the windows.

The loud gunshots mixed with the smashing and clinking sound of glass breaking as the shards scattered across the floor. You and Jason were pressed against the wall at the end of the room, your face buried into his chest and his arms around your head. The shooting continued on for what seemed like forever before coming to a sudden halt.

The floor of his apartment was nothing but glass shards and wooden splinters from the window frames. His table, chairs, and the wall opposite of the windows were decorated with deep bullet holes. It seemed the sniper had returned with a gun that had a little more kick to it. And now, he was gone.

You finally looked up at Jason as he stared back at you. You still had him pinned against the wall, your body pressed against his as you both continued to breath heavily. But the shock of what just happened wouldn't allow either one of you to move. All you could do was stare at each other before he looked over your head at his apartment and the windows.

A slither of guilt crept into your bones. Now he would have to move. You looked over your shoulder at the mess before looking back at him.

"That fucker is dead." He said, voice deadly and low.

"Seems we both have a common enemy now." You said.

Stupid enough, you felt your face become hot as you took in the position you were both in, and little did you know that Jason was thinking the same thing too. Except you had much more of an effect on Jason. Faces inches apart as you held him against the wall, your hands gripping onto the fabrics of his suit. Surprisingly enough, he found he didn't mind the position he was in. At all.

[marvelous-slut]

Bad Girlfriend - Happy Lowman x reader

Y’all. I’m back. I’m rewatching sons and I can’t contain myself. I LOVE THIS MAN. And I love ALL OF YOU. Life’s been busy, haven’t wrote in months but I come back to see the love y’all have given me even tho I’ve been MIA? Y’all are AWESOME. Thank you guys from the bottom of my heart. Hopefully these can be a regular thing.

Trigger Warnings - minors DNI. Go far away. Smut. Angry sex. Cheating. Wrote this on my iPhone notes and didn’t proof read it the best, sue me.

“Hales a lucky bastard. I mean look, how’s a woman with such a nice rack with a guy like him? Total dork. Must be for some kind of show. Has to be.” Tig says as he thinks Happy heard all his words. Happy stopped listening after the first sentence. He turns to Tig, confusion plastered all over his face.

“What?”

“You know, it’s just weird seeing a hot chick with a nerd.”

“No, the first part.” Happy says, getting annoyed with Tig.

“Oh! Hale, yeah? That’s Hales old lady, Unsers niece, well more like a daughter he raised her, and you’re not listening.” He finishes as Happy stands up to go confront you. He wasn’t one to let emotions get the best of him, but when a taken woman was basically throwing herself onto him every time she saw him, he needed to know what was going on. Teach her a lesson.

You say with Jax, Clay and Unser. You’d went with Unser to make sure he was okay, the man practically raised you. It was hard watching cancer rip him away. There was more to it, you enjoyed being around the club. It gave you a thrill, watching these men and their old ladies, watching how they destroyed anything that dared step in the way of them and their women, them and their brother hood.

Truth is, it was easier being with David. It made things smooth, he was a nice guy, Unser cared for him. There was just something that didn’t do it for you with him, you couldn’t tell if it was the vanilla sex, or the rumors you’d kept hearing about him eating some ATF woman’s pussy on the clock. Either way, running from chaos never worked for you, and that was evident with the familiar face of Happy Lowman come to you and grabbed your arm away from the group as they were conversing among themselves. Happy had become someone in the MC you enjoyed, you liked the way he carried himself. How people were afraid to even look at him the wrong way. The way his gun hung off his hip. He was everything that your boyfriend was not and it drove you insane. He drug you to his room despite your protest, he gets you inside and shuts the door locking it behind him.

“What is this about?” You ask, confused as to why you’d been drug away.

“What are you doing? Trying to get intel out of me.” He backs you against the wall, his face inches away from yours. “Come in here flaunting your shit all over me, whole time you have an old man at home? A cop none the less.”

“It’s not like that.” You begin, Happy chuckles and pushes into you further. The two of your bodies no longer having any room in between.

“Tell me what it’s like then? Cop not get the job done for you?” You feel your skin crawling, in the best way possible. Also, a little fear crept in. As much as you liked Happy and seeing him, you knew he was dangerous.

“He doesn’t.” You let out softly, he grabs your face and places his lips onto yours harshly. Almost as if he’d needed this like you did. He pulls you back from the wall and lays you down on his bed instead.

Happy knew he had you right where he wanted you, and right where you wanted him. He spreads your legs as far as they will go, he’s on his knees in-between them. His hands go to your thighs, under you dress. He finds your entrance covered by a wet laced fabric. He runs his fingers up and down the sorry excuse of fabric that covered your wet folds. You moan softly, he pushes them to the side and shoves a finger into you with no warning. You arch your back, hoping he’d get the hint to add another finger. His finger is covered with your wetness.

“Happy.” You moan out, leaning your head up to make eye contact with him. He’s still in his kutte which makes your pussy pulse even more for him.

“Beg.” He lets out, moving his finger slowly in and out of you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to give me more, fuck me with your fingers.” You keep eye contact with him, he still hasn’t moved any faster or added any digits. You sigh, throwing your head back. “Finger fuck me, please Happy. Please, I’m begging you.” He is a bit more satisfied with this response as he adds another finger, pushes himself over top of you, keeping his fingers inside you. He’s hovering over you now, a hand in your hair tugging it lightly. You moan, closing your eyes. The pleasure from his fingers was enough and he knew that, he pushed you to your limit and then he stops.

“I don’t think cheating whores deserve to cum.” He says, licking his fingers as he keeps eye contact with you. You’re desperate now, you grab him by his Kutte, slamming your lips onto his like a greedy bitch. You move your hands down to his belt, undoing it as you pull away to kiss his neck.

“Maybe I don’t, but you do.” You whisper to him, he feels the heat from your mouth on his ear. He pushes you back onto the bed, ripping your dress over your head, leaving you exposed to the cold air. He rips his shirt off, then his jeans and boxers all in one motion. He slams his cock into you with no warning, you let out a moan as he begins pumping himself in and out of you. You feel like you’re being fucked into his mattress. You gasp loudly as he begins rubbing your clit, you felt fuzzy in the brain. You couldn’t believe you were doing this to yourself, to Happy, to David? You reach a hand up to cover your mouth as the pleasure of him drilling inside of you is becoming harder to contain. He rips your hands away, pinning them above your head as he continues ramming into you.

“No. You don’t get to be quiet. I want everyone to know what’s happening. I want them to know I’m fucking Hales old lady. Making you take me, what do you think he’d think? A dirty biker fucking his innocent girlfriend?” He asks, his face is driving you crazy, he has his eyes shut head tilted to the ceiling enjoying this moment too much.

“Oh my god Happy.” You scream out loud enough anyone around could hear. “Fuck. Fuck.” You moan out, your arms still pinned above your head. He bends down, licking the side of your neck, biting it softly yet rough enough it would leave a mark. “Oh god Happy. I can’t ever get off with him. Please let me cum. Please.” You plead with him, sadly what you told Happy wasn’t a lie at all. Most times it was a 7 minute fuck and a fake orgasm to get David off of you.

“Not surprising. You need a real man to do that.” He finally lets go of your hands, moving one of his to your throat grasping it gently. He moves the other back to your clit, giving you chills all over your body. “Good thing you’ve got me inside of you right now. Good thing you can obey like a good girl too.” With the final words, you feel your eyes roll back in your head. You arch your back, bracing yourself for the first orgasm you’d had with a man and not a toy or your own fingers in years.

“God damn it.” You scream out, feeling yourself release around him. You feel your face flush, he notices and it’s enough to send him over as well. “Fuck.” He mutters, releasing himself into you. You lay there on his bed, feeling light headed from the mind blowing orgasm you just received. Happy stands up, cleaning himself up. He throws your clothes onto the bed.

“May want to clean up before you go back to your old man.” With that, he throws on a shirt and leaves the room. You lay back on the bed looking at the ceiling, realizing what has been done can’t be undone.

The chaos you tried to avoid would ensue before you knew it.

[brucewaynehater101]

Recently my mind has been plagued with ideas about things Tim could be other than human and what would both fit him and make an interesting story. I believe I might have found something that suits him rather well.

Tim has always been a strange child, always silent and always watching. Learning everything he can about everyone he has to interact with so that he can best make sure every interaction goes in his favor. He learned his manipulation from his Mother after all. She was the very best at it so he will be the very best too. She nor his "father" have watched over him since he was very small, after all they are creatures that do not raise their own young. Her returning to see him every few months, teaching him how to hide what he is and how to defend himself, *and* making sure he has food and shelter is far, far more than most of his species could ever even dream of. Janet is their version of Best Mom In The Universe, even if she's horrifyingly neglectful by Human Standards.

As for how Jack treats Tim, he doesn't. After all, once they were married and she had everything, she didn't need him anymore. Jack died before Tim was even conceived and the current Jack is nothing more than a husk, a living puppet that his mother walks around with as a shield to keep herself safe from prying eyes and questions. Perfect for keeping her cover as Just A Human. She has taught Tim how to do this same thing using small animals from the garden (and making sure he eats them after. He's still a growing boy who needs to eat after all) si that one day he can have a few living puppets of his own.

Tim does not tell anyone he isn't human, as per his mother's instructions. After all, he shares quite a few traits with a type of creature that humans *hate* and actively go out of their way to kill. Well, most do.

As he grows and ages as Robin, he never let's anything slip, he can't afford to let them know. He knows that Bruce doesn't trust magic in Gothem (or at least, Tim thinks that's the truth) and even if he did, the others have shown a distaste for the creature that he shares so much with. Especially Alfred and Dick, the later of which he has verbally claimed to *hate*. Given, one of them was in his hair when he yelled this but it still stung quite deeply and Alfred works hard to make sure that not a single trace of them can be found anywhere in the manor, even scolding Tim once for letting so much proof of their existence pile up in the corners of his room. But Tim doesn't blame him either, Alfred's job is to keep the house clean after all.

Eventually he must come clean though and what a way it is. Bruce has been working a case with Constantine about people going missing in Gothem. Turns out, everyone who has was some kind of magical creature and the people doing it are likely poachers. The others have been informed of the case so that they can report anything they know or anyone they know who could be a target. Tim doesn't say anything, instead keeping a closer eye on those he does know. He would never, ever sell out another creature. He would rather die.

A week later, an attempted raid on the poachers goes wrong and ends up with Jason, Tim, Bruce, and Damian all captured by the poachers. Tim is the last to wake up and when he does, the poachers are discussing what kind of undead Jason is, scanning the tied up vigilante with a device that simply says again, "subject, magical. Type, undead. Futher information, unknown."

At this point Tim realizes he's the only one not tied up. He's also the only one in a cage. He tries to pretend to be asleep but the one watching him says, "look who's awake. You know, we had bets on how many of you Bats were part of the magical community. Seems like I won the bet since only you and Red Hood over there are. Don't bother trying to lie your way out, our scanner can see through your Glamor spell, no matter how powerful it is. And this?" They hold up a small remote control with about a dozen buttons on it, "this does a wonderful little thing where it makes a specific pitch at a specific volume that causes Magical Creatures to drop their Glamor Spells or Shifts. Luckily it's nothing more than mildly annoying to humans."

A button is pressed before anyone can ask questions and the remove makes a loud, buzzing sound. It's not painful for the trio who are tied up, but Tim? Tim is shaking and writhing and *screaming* with both hands pressed over his ears. He is rolling back and forth across the ground as he screams for the person to stop, just *stop*. Bruce is almost free when he freezes upon realizing something. There aren't two tear tracks on his sons face. There's a lot. A pair of eyes have opened on his cheek bones and above his eyebrows and a smaller pair between them. Tim has gotten much paler and his canines have turned long and sharp like his nails. Tim rolls onto his stomach and curls up as best he can, screaming as there is a cracking sound. A long spindly, spider like leg shoots out of his side and slams into the floor, curling up in pain like the rest of Tim's limbs.

When the device is finally turned off, Tim is laying on his side, wheezing in pain and his legs are gone. In their place is the body of a giant spider which has sharp points at the tips of its legs instead of the regular spider feet. Tim has 8 eyes and is totally limp as he tries to recover. The Poacher simply laughs, "A Jorōgumo, a real master of puppets you are. But weak without them. God, your kind is so rare, you'll fetch us the price of at least 4 normal monsters. Add in you're a famous vigilante and we could break a few million dollars off *just* you."

Tim glares weakly at them and hisses softly. He knows the numbers are true. It's the secondary reason he never told anyone. He knew he would either get squished or sold off. How he just needs to figure out how to escape from Gothem before Bruce can confront him on this. He doesn't want to explain.

Aww... was he collecting little spiders and getting upset when his family kept expressing their hatred/distaste for them? Did he have to hear them talk about how creepy their eyes are, their weird abundance of legs, and how disgusting their overall being is before he excused himself to stare in a mirror and compare the similarities?

Does he dare to meet their eyes after the reveal, or does he fear finding the look of revulsion?

Also, would he find comfort in knitting, crochet, and weaving? Is his house full of hand-made blankets?

Anyways, enjoyed what you have and would definitely read more

[cursedkeyboard]

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.2)

What does Jason do after stealing a kid from Gotham's slums? Feed and give the little brat a home, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

To be completely honest, when Jason reached his apartment, he was panicking a little

The drive had been enough to clear his mind and he realized how impulsive he'd been

He is a damn vigilante, one with a hell of a reputation, and who's always messing with the baddest assholes of this city

Fuck, he's got guns and explosives in his house

But even with all the panic and rationality, Jason wasn't going to abandon you somewhere else

Orphanages were great places for villains to hit, the foster system might as well have been created by the joker, and no way in hell was he going to drop you at Bruce's

Anything but that

So he sucked it up and focused on your small voice full of wonder as you two drove through the city

"I didn't know there was so many tall buildings in Gotham!"

"That church is huge!"

"Holy shit is that a theater?! I only saw them in movies!"

At a certain point he was close to biting his fists in pure cuteness aggression

He knew exactly what you were feeling, could even picture your eyes glittering full of wonder behind the helmet

It didn't help his heart that your helmet also had comms, which were connected to his, so every single one of your little comments meant for yourself only were accidentally shared

Your Gotham accent was so thick too, born and raised in an area were the elite never tried to "cleanse"

Fuking adorable

Oh, also, he'd need to teach you not to follow strangers even if they were famous vigilantes

Because he realized how fucking dangerous it was that you just up and agreed to be taken by a random masked man

Sure, he knew he also did the same with Bruce, but hey, look at where that got him

When Jason finally brought you up to his apartment, still carrying you, he knew he'd have to immediately go out to buy some things

His fridge wasn't stocked with what kids need

Like... apple juice and cereal

Or any kind of vegetables

And, he definitely needed some kid safety stuff, even if he knew you wouldn't try opening the dangerous cabinets

... probably

Opening his door, he took you to the bathroom

Look, as cute as you were, you were also as filthy as a drenched sewer rat

He told you as much when he set you down

Your glare was worth the slap on the arm (it didn't even hurt)

"Can I assume you know how to take a shower?"

"I'm nine, not three, Red Hood."

"Not my fault you look like you're five."

He chuckled as you huffed and puffed

"Jason Todd."

"What?"

"My name is Jason Todd. Can't have you calling me Red Hood if you're gonna live with me, right?"

You gaped, big eyes going wide

He told you his name! And showed you his face! Why did this man trust you so much?

It... it made you real warm inside

You were quiet for a moment before quietly telling you your name, shyly, like you hadn't done that in a long time

"Hm, I think I prefer 'squirt', tho."

Okay, warm moment over, the guy is insufferable

Hissing and pushing him out of the bathroom with all of your strength, you hesitantly took your first real shower since... since you don't even know when

The water was black

You realized your skin could feel soft instead of oily

And your nails finally didn't look like you dug through dirt

Meanwhile, Jason was running around the apartment like a crazed man

Shoving his guns inside high drawers you wouldn't be able to reach

Trashing the cigs he had bought out of curiosity

And making sure any items for... his intimate partners were completely hidden away

He'd found those in Bruce's room one time as a kid and, needless to say, Jason still felt traumatized to this day

After making his apartment slightly less deadly and ordering food, Jason knocked on the door to let you know he'd left a change of clothes for you in front of the bathroom

Damian's clothes the brat left behind once he had stayed over when he was rebelling

they'd be a little too big for you but nothing like what his would look like

Once you came out, looking fresh and clean, Jason immediately carried you to the couch

Biting his tongue because the demon brat's clothes were actually so big on you he could cry

He ignored your complaints again, he knew your little feet were all scratched and they must have hurt like a bitch

Once you finally settled and didn't try to scratch his eyeballs out, Jason started to patch you up

Such careful, gentle touches for rough hands like his

He handled your injuries like you were made of glass

And despite your childish pride... you kind of loved it

It made you feel all tingly and cozy inside, like you were precious

Like you were deserving of kindness

As you started fidgeting with all the bubbling emotions inside of you, Jason tried to calm you down by talking

He learned your mother died from a drive-by shooting and your father was an alcoholic with a taste for physical abuse

"It only got bad bad a year or so ago, I think he blamed me for us being poor."

"And you know that's bull, right?"

You shrugged as he finished treating your injuries and started to dry your damp hair, a little awkwardly but attentive

"He left a month ago–or died, I don't know–so it doesn't matter either way."

Well, that was a healthy mindset for a child!

He had to breathe through his mouth to not get up and go put three little bullets in your piece of shit father's head

or his body, if the bastard was already dead

Jason definitely had a lot of work to do, but for now, ding-dong, he was going to focus on feeding you

And, no, he was never going to delete the photo he took of your face when he opened the huge takeout orders

Nor would he forget the way you cried silently as you ate

That was your first real meal in months

Your first real meal, washed and clothed, in a safe apartment that didn't smell of roaches nor booze, with an adult who looked at you fondly

Jason promised, to himself and God, that he'd make sure you'd never cry over something like food ever again

When you giggled at a joke he made and didn't flinch when he gently wiped a bit of sauce from your cheek, he knew he had made the correct decision

He'd keep you safe

To be continued...

[one-piece-aus]

Unbottle Your Emotions

Eutass Kid x Reader (Part 1)

Ahoy readers! Some of you who read my Whumptober works know I made two short whumps of Kid in a highschool AU and I can tell you enjoyed those angsty works. I've dug around in my drafts and found this, I wrote it a few years ago but nonetheless, it's the beginning of this story so I thought why not post it? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Enjoy ^-^

"Alright, class," Makino addressed you and your classmates once she finished attendance. "I have a partner project for you to work on for the next two weeks. Before you ask, I have already assigned who you'll be working with."

You glanced over to Hawkins, if you were lucky you'd be partnered with him. The two of you were loners who stuck together. You found it easier to work with him since you kinda were on the same level when it came to that. He made eye contact with you and knew you wanted him to check his chances of being paired with you. He drew his cards under his desk before looking back to you and shaking his head. You sighed, pulling up your hood and resting your head on your arms, you continued listening to your English teacher.

"You'll be choosing a topic to write about, whether it's a review of a movie or a poem about birds, I want the two of you to make it together. This will be a presentation assignment so make sure to capture your listeners' attention and practice what you'll be reading." Makino paused, going over to her laptop, and clicking a few keys before turning on the projector. "Here are your partners."

Once the screen had been displayed your eyes scanned over the list to find your name. You saw Hawkins got paired with Cavendish, you almost felt bad for him until your eyes landed on who you paired with. The person Makino assigned you to work with was Eustass Kid.

He was the most hostile guy at school, it was no secret the guy had anger issues and was completely obnoxious. You avoided him like the plague for two reasons: 

1. You were a good student and just wanted to learn, obnoxious kids disrupt the silence and your ability to learn. 

2. You could only tolerate someone directing their anger at you for so long before crying; not that they made you feel sad, but because you felt anger at them and wished to shout back at them to defend yourself, yet you held your tongue back since you didn't want to cause further trouble; that bottled up emotion stressed tears out of you. 

You hated crying because that made you think you appeared hurt and weak when in reality you were angry and frustrated, the more you felt it the more the tears came. That's why tried to quickly get out of the predicaments if you were ever in them.

The quickest way you dealt with someone's anger and got out of the problem was ignoring them if they were just insulting you or apologizing respectfully if you did something to piss them off. Since you pulled off these things well without appearing to be phased and having acknowledgement of the issue with genuine respect, those in school weren't aware you had a limit. However, you witnessed how Kid gets whenever someone pisses him off, you knew there'd be no way you could keep the bottle closed if he directed his anger at you, so that's why you always duck away when you saw Kid coming.

Internally you panicked when you saw you were assigned to be his partner. You didn't know how you managed to get this far acting as a ghost while being in the same classes as him this semester. You usually weren't in a corner or by the window, you were near the front of the room, second row and just two desks away from being in the center of the class, great for viewing the board. Perhaps you were a ghost to Kid since he sat around the back near the window.

Kid raised his head and looked around, searching for you, you pulled your hood further over you and lowered your head to face away from Kid. "Oi, Teach! Which one's the one I'm working with?" You heard Kid ask, I guess he really didn't know who you are.

You listened to the footsteps of the teacher, drawing towards you just as a brush does to the paints on a pallet. You feel her gentle hand rub your head, maybe thinking you were asleep, you did come in class yawning. You hesitantly lifted your head, looking up at Makino and seeing her smile. Oh, bless her heart for being kind and welcoming, wishing to create a pleasant and welcoming place for her class, but that's what's going to bite you in the ass because it meant you couldn't get out of this since she wanted her class to be comfortable with each other. You sighed, making it a sound like a yawn, and sat up but still kept your hood on.

"This is [L/n], Eustass," Makino told Kid, gesturing to you before she went to another student who had raised their hand.

You didn't say a word, instead, you took out your notes and reviewed them to see which ones you needed for the project. The daunting sound of Kid approaching your desk only made you read through your notes more frantic until he sat down in the chair in front of you with a scowl on his face. You looked away from your notes, masking your uneasy state as you finally spoke to him.

"Hi! Sorry- I was searching for the notes we'll probably need!" You apologized then glanced back at the papers and began putting the ones you didn't need back in your binder. You just needed to get on his good side, if you didn't irritate him you two could get this project over with and never have to speak to each other again, that's how classmates go.

"At least you seemed to know what you're doing," Kid responded, eyes gazing over the many notes you've jotted down as you slipped them away in the binder.

"Uh- you can pick whatever you wanna do for the project if you want," you told him and put your binder into your bag. "I'm uh- fine with whatever unless you wanted to ask the teacher to work with a friend instead, then I'll find a topic to work on by myself."

"None of my friends are in this class," he shrugged and folded his arms. "Besides I know Makino wouldn't change my partner even if I asked, I'm just glad it's not strawhat I'm working with again."

"Strawhat? Luffy?" You tilted your head, not recalling Luffy being in your class.

"He was in one of my classes last semester and we had Makino as our teacher," Kid explained as put his arms on your desk, taking up half the space.

"Oh..."

"You know the guy?" Kid inquired, raising a non-existent eyebrow at you.

"Not really."

"Good, he's annoying and so are his friends."

You sweatdropped unsure how to respond to his complaint. Normally you'd let some continue their rants until they were done, especially if they had anger issues you didn't want to trigger them, but you wanted to get everything figured out before class was over.

"So did you have something in mind?" You asked getting back on topic.

"We're not writing poetry, that's for damn sure," he grumbled, pushing his cheek onto his knuckled fist.

'How ironic, that's probably what Cavendish and Hawkins are,' you thought to yourself as you glanced at the two blonds. Cavendish seemed to be boasting about myself again, maybe being partnered with Kid wasn't so bad.

"Have you listened to any metal songs?" Kid inquired, throwing his idea out there.

"Yeah..."

"Really?" he questioned, not believing you.

"Yeah."

Kid's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, really?!"

"Uh yeah." How many times were you going to have to repeat yourself?

"Huh, I didn't think you'd listen to that kind of music."

You shrugged. "My dad got me into metal and rock when I was younger. Better than what plays on the radio."

"You don't have to tell me twice. Idiots that listen to what they play on there now don't know what real music is."

You chuckled, agreeing with Kid, maybe he wasn't so bad. "I guess we found our topic. Now we need to figure out how we'd be writing it." You flipped over one of your papers and started writing down a few methods. "Fan letter to the artist, a review of the song, analysis of the lyrics-"

A loud buzz rang throughout the school and repeated itself, you cringed at the obnoxious noise blaring in your ear. Someone must've started a fire in the bathroom again. Your class filed out of the room, merging into the sea of students exiting the building. You wanted to cover your ears as the noise became louder in the halls but you didn't want to appear like a weirdo using your hands, you had wireless earbuds but that wasn't something to take out in the stampede you were in since you could drop one. You just had to suffer internally.

Once outside, you went and stood by Hawkins while waiting for the fire department to find the fire. You rubbed your ears now that you were away from the crowd and just had your fellow loner next to you.

"Acting like a cat again, [Y/n]?" Hawkins asked, seeing you paw your ears. He often compared to his cat, Faust.

"Yeah, my ears just hurt from the noise." You despised noise.

"You should listen to some soothing frequencies after instead of your regular choice of music if you want your ears to recover properly," Hawkins advised.

"Ehhhh... I might have to this time."

"Oh?" Hawkins glanced at you, inquiring you for further details. You didn't usually listen to him when he advised you to give your ear a break from your music, hence why he grew curious to understand why you were thinking of taking his suggestion.

"I might be hearing more noise today at school but once I get home I'll probably be able to listen to it."

"And what makes you think you'll be hearing more noise?"

"I don't know, maybe-"

"OI! [L/N]!" Kid shouted to get your attention as he marched over to you.

You flinched at his voice in that tone, and the irritated expression on his face made you think you did something wrong. You turned to him and held your arm behind your back.

"Sorry, what did you need Kid?"

"Give me your phone."

"What?" You feel your chest begin to burn and you know your forehead will begin to paint itself red.

"I need it to put my contact in your phone."

You were going to push back but you folded your tongue seeing the impatient scowl Kid wore. Not questioning him further, taking your phone out of your pocket. Unlocking it, you hastily clicked over to your contact app and handed it over to the redhead before you could see him grow more impatient.

Kid, just about to add a new contact, couldn't help but notice how you only had five contacts on your phone. Only three out of the five weren't family-related. Did you just not add people to your phone? He scoffed the thought off, it wasn't his business. He began typing his number into your phone.

You wanted to ask why Kid needed to put his contact in your phone, however, your bottled emotion prevented you from speaking your question. Kid seemed pissed enough, you weren't going to attempt to do anything that might push him off the edge. You shifted your footing, the expression on your face displaying your unease.

"Perhaps you should tell why you're adding your number to her phone," Hawkins spoke up for you.

"Fuck off Basil, it's not your business," Kid barked.

"It may not be mine but it is [Y/n]'s business to know since it is her phone," Hawkins stated unphased by Kid. Oh, how you wished to be as stoic as Hawkins. Granted, you did a good job ninety percent of the time but it crumbled easily in the presence of hostile or authoritative anger.

Kid glared at Hawkins for a moment before he handed you back your phone, his attention now on you. "Send me a text," he instructed you and pulled out his phone.

You weren't sure what exactly to send so you just typed 'Hi' into the chat. A ding came from Kid's phone and he checked the message to make sure it came from you. Comparing his screen to yours, you felt your hands brush against each other. The chills surfing across your body turned your body pale from how uncomfortable you felt to Kid standing this close to you. You wanted to isolate yourself in your room, though when Kid moved away you couldn't help but be grateful.

"Alright, I got it." Kid put his phone in his pocket and started walking away. "Text me about our project later."

You stood there confused with the hidden parts of your head burning red. You didn't understand why Kid confronted you like that when he could've easily asked when the two of you got back to class. You stared in the direction Kid left until a concerned hand rested on your shoulder and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Glancing over, you met Hawkins' crimson eyes.

"The cards said you needed a comforting hand," Hawkins said unsure if he helped. "There was an 80% chance you would've shed tears if not."

Right, Hawkins is the only one who knew of your bottled frustration; he saw it happen when he walked in the middle of you being scolded by a teacher. Anyone else would've thought you were upset and sad but he could read the frustration and anger written on your face, and he drew the cards to double-check. The two of you never spoke of it at first, but after you began to hang around, and he saw it a few more times, he offered to be there for you if you ever needed a quiet place and a listening ear.

"Once the firemen are done we'll be in second period," Hawkins informed you, shifting the topic away from what just happened. He knows you don't like to stay stuck in your conflicted emotions.

"So that's why Kid did that..." You glance at the phone in your hand to see the time; English is over. Slipping it into your pocket, you groaned, realizing something. "Hhhhh, that means we still have to get our stuff from English... We have drama next class, right?"

"Hmm." Hawkins nodded.

"Can you please get my stuff, I don't think I can face Kid again at the moment."

"Very well, [Y/n]."

"Thanks, I'll treat you to lunch."

"Does that mean we'll go to the vegan restaurant?" You've known Hawkins long enough to tell the subtle delight in his monotone.

"For doing this-" You turned to him, a grateful small smile drawn on your face. "Yes."

Tag: @lil-skelly-bones

[secretsandwriting]

Part Three: Information and Things to Come

The Edutzal.

A species known for their ruthlessness and destruction. With an unimaginable amount of strength and power they were a species you didn't want the attention of, so why were there three of them spotted on Earth.

Previous -- Masterlist -- Next

Translation List

Damian impatiently tapped his foot as he waited for the Edutzal. It was slow and he wanted to try and get more information from them, if they would show up that is! They always showed up near his brothers, either saving them or just eating from roof or the sky, but when he wanted them they took awhile.

“Whatcha doing Robin?” Damian whirled around to be face to face with Siuqgux. Vehutran, and Karrea weren't too far behind him. Damian glanced at the clock tower nearby it had taken them 23 minutes.

“Waiting for you three to show up. It's a slow day so I figured I’d trade information on how to get to Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin a little more in exchange for information about you.”

“On one condition,” Damian nodded. “You can only share what we specifically say you can. You can't tell them in any shape or form but you can use the information yourself.” Vehutran stated. “If you tell them what you're not supposed to, we'll destroy the earth.” Damian's blood ran cold, the tone was far to casual, giving the impression they had done it before.

“Well give you one exception.” Karrea tilted her head as she spoke, “if there is another Edutzal causing problems or there is absolutely no way you or the other bats or close associates can survive. It had to be complete life or death. Damian nodded. That made it slightly better.

“Deal.” The three nodded.

“Let's go somewhere more private, tell your team your safe and change into this.” Damian did as told and after a too fast flight found himself on a comfortable couch with a nice drink in hand and the Edutzal around him looking like normal and familiar people.

“I'm sure you've put it together already but let us properly introduce ourselves. I'm Y/n, the fashion director for Wayne Apparal and Beauty, I'm also Vehutran.”

“I'm Alistair, the accessories and shoe director for Wayne Apparal and Beauty, also Siuqgux.”

“I'm Ry, the makeup director of Wayne Apparal and Beauty, also Karrea.” Damian sipped his drink as he wrote it down in his little notebook.

“Hiding in plain sight, working for Wayne Enterprises and living across from Jason.” The three nodded. “Ok, so what does Tiapr, Paeqian, and Gaijieqn mean?”

“Sweetheart, handsome, and Darling.” Damian almost spat out his drink.

“You're flirting with them?!”

“Yeah.”

“Obviously.”

“Who wouldn't.”

Damian just stared at the three, trying to decide if he wanted to continue this plan or to drop it now. Although… it could be funny to watch.

“They're all pretty touchy people. They just have to know you’re there and be decently ok with you around.” They all nodded, taking mental notes. “What are you doing on earth?”

“What we said before. We just like it here. The people here are interesting, We don’t have a plan to do anything specific or bad to your planet so don’t worry. I know that’s not really reassuring but it's the truth.” Damian nodded, nothing new with that one.

“They think your cute outside of the costumes.”

“Is that why Dick almost dropped his coffee when he toured our building?”

“Yes, he said Alistair was hot. Jason almost left at the sight of Y/n, and Tim turns red when anyone mentions Ry. Now what are your intentions with my brothers?”

“Right now, just having some fun with a little interest sprinkled in. Don’t worry, we won’t go too far and if you think we are let us know so we can stop.”

“Would you teach me your language?” There was a moment of silence.

“You want us to teach you Eidnethi?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think anyone off Engoth knows it.”

“I heard it was impossible for anyone not an Edutzal, even half Edutzal have trouble learning and speaking it.” Another moment of silence where the three were all lost in thought, every once in a while they would glance at each other.

“I mean, we could try. There’s no harm in trying but there's no promise you would even be able to learn it.” THe other two nodded in agreement and Damian felt excitement bubbling up in his stomach. The conversation went from exchanging information to a more normal conversation about this and that.

A few hours later, Damian’s rant on why people should be vegetarians was interrupted by the next door neighbor slamming the door.

“What do you mean Damian’s gone?!” Jason’s voice carried through the apartment, “He said WHAT?!” While the other three took that as a sign to take Damian back, Damian got other ideas, more fun ideas.

Jumping up from his spot, he ran to the door and opened it. He could see the three staring at him. Clearly thinking he was going to spill what they had told him hours prior.

“Jason!” Jason swung around to see Damian, who had gone radio silent since saying he was going to talk to the Edutzal. “I lost my phone when I was far out and Y/n found me and brought me here to warm up and stay till morning since it was so late! I was going to call in the morning when someone was more likely to be awake.”

Jason didn’t believe a word out of his mouth, but he put on his best act and gave a relieved smile at the three who were behind Damian.”

“Thank you for finding him and taking care of him.” Damian joined Jason, playing up the kid act mostly for Jason but the three found it amusing as well.

“It was no problem!”

“If it happens again, just drop him off at my door.” Jason pointed to the door across the hall.

“Will do! Have a good night!” As soon as the door shut, Damian was ushered to the bat cave where the entire family was waiting.

“What do you mean, shortly after the Edutzal dropped you off you saw Y/n and decided to go with her instead of coming back?” Dick was stressed and it was showing.

“You were missing for 6 hours! We had no idea where you were!”

Damian sat through all the lectures before the notebook burning in his pocket was too much. They had never said he couldn’t tell them they had talked and given him information, just that he couldn’t share the information.

“I made a deal with the Edutzal.” The room went silent. “They gave me information, I gave then information. Sot thats what that was. As for after, I was headed back to my stuff when Y/n was driving by and offered me a ride. I couldn’t have her take me back to my things or that would be out and it would be strange for me to refuse a ride when I was out in the middle of the night. Since my phone was with my stuff, I told her I had lost it. They only had Father’s number and he always says he goes to bed at 10 pm and it was 1 am so I asked to be dropped off at Jason’s but he wasn’t home and they live across from him so they invented me in to wait.” The story made enough sense that all of them could understand enough of the logic for Damian to be mostly off the hook.

“Ok, then what did they tell you information wise then?” Bruce looked at him expectantly.

“If I tell you, they said they would Destroy the the earth. All I can tell you is that Tiapr means sweetheart.” Dick looked exasperated. “Paeqian mean Handsome.” Tim sat down and rubbed his face. “And Gaujieqn means Darling.” Jason sighed under his mask.

“They’re flirting with them?” Steph was trying to hide her laughter. “Did some of the information you gave them have to do with that?”

“Yes. Also when the league and other groups tend to have their meetings. Considering they asked that when they corrected half the information we were told about the Edutzal I think they’re just nosey and want to know how bad our information is. Anyways, I can’t tell you the corrected information but I can tell you that the information we have sounds better than the truth they gave.”

“How do you know they told you the truth?” Cass asked. Damian looked her dead in the eyes.

“They’re exact words were, ‘even if you know our weaknesses and our strengths. There is nothing anyone on this planet can do about it. The last one had much stronger people on it, and well, theres nothing there anymore so..’ They talked about it too casually. Like destroying a planet wasn’t even a challenge.” The room was silent as everyone pondered what Damian had said.

“Oh, before I forget they said to give these to you.” Damian pulled a bunch of little buttons. The way they were built was clearly foreign. The hexagon pattern across the small device glowed a sickly green. “They like Gotham so they’ll help keep it safe but if we run into trouble that is too much or we can’t beat, hit the button and they’ll come help.” He passed them out, one too each person. “Again! Only if necessary.” They all dispersed shortly after that, leaving Danian alone and able to head to bed.

After the meeting was over, Alfred glanced out the Window in time to see three flying beings leaving the manor

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