#I feel like the strain is really getting to him

[frownyalfred]

Since we believe the older Jason gets, the more he looks /acts like Bruce, if he attends a gala because of an obligation (i.e. Alfred guilt trips him and the others) how often does he get mistaken as his dad?

Does he take a little advantage and pretends with the more drunker socialites, and tricks them into donating to the lesser known charities that he knows get ignored and directly impact Gotham's poorer neighborhoods?

(Or does he just starts rumors to mess with them all about his dad's rich boy myth. He def makes shifts the hors d'eourves into almost small chilly dogs if he can)

"Mr. Wayne. There you are!"

Jason turned around, smiling wide enough his jaw hurt. With the slim-cut suit, the thin glass of champagne in his hand, and the angle of his shoulders, the whole move was practically a flourish. It was how Bruce did it, after all -- and frankly? It didn't feel too bad.

The true joy came, however, from seeing the faces of the two women as his identity registered. Their smiles tightened, but didn't disappear entirely. Not Bruce Wayne. Close -- but no cigar.

"Mr. Wayne is my father," Jason said, just a little lower than Bruce normally would. He let his eyes settle on the first woman -- blonde, thin lips, eyes narrowed -- and tilted his head, just a fraction. "But I get that all the time. It's flattering, really."

Was it?

"My mistake. You look just like him from behind," the blonde woman said, her strained smile returning. "Jason, yes? Truly remarkable."

Jason swapped his champagne glass into his left hand, holding out his right to her. "Jason Todd. And that's what I strive for at events like these -- remarkable."

The other woman laughed a little at that, breaking ranks with her friend. She was a little older, with more wrinkles on her face than she should have, at her age. A smoker, probably. "Jessica."

Jason shook her offered hand, giving her a smile. "A pleasure, Jessica."

"Anne," the blonde woman added, like an afterthought. Jason hadn't missed the way she'd avoided giving her name when they'd shaken.

Jason skipped right over that tidbit. "Are you looking for Bruce, then? I can point you in the right direction, but you might need to call a cab. He's at Wayne Manor tonight, unfortunately. A little under the weather."

If you can call three broken ribs and a concussion "under the weather."

"Oh, how awful," Jessica said, holding a hand over her mouth. She turned to Anne. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course not," Anne said, eyes narrowing in on Jason again. "Is he alright? It's not like him to miss an event like this."

Jason realized, idly, that was, in fact, Anne Regis. And that he was, in fact, standing at the Regis Charity night. Which meant Anne was -- in all likelihood -- pissed by Bruce's nonarrival. And disappointed in his replacement, if the way her lips pursed meant anything.

"Well, I'm sure he'll make the next one," Jason offered, shrugging one shoulder. Bruce's suit pulled a little, reminding him that silk and satin had less wiggle room than spandex and Kevlar weave. "Fear not, I did bring his check. And his checkbook, if the one he wrote wasn't...satisfactory enough."

It was telling, how Anne's eyes didn't light up at the idea of a larger gift. It meant that this event wasn't really about raising money -- it never was. It was about seeing and being seen. And Anne Regis had wanted to cash in on Bruce Wayne's presence, not his money. His social standing, his charm, his glamor -- not his checkbook.

"That's lovely, dear. What a thoughtful son." Anne glanced over her shoulder, indicating she was about to excuse herself. "Jessica, it looks like Roger is back. Why don't we excuse ourselves--" heh "--and say hello?"

Jessica gave Jason a warmer smile than Anne. "Stay sharp, kid."

"Tell Bruce I said hello," Anne said, with a nod that might have been charming, several decades ago. "We'll have to do brunch soon."

They left, disappearing back into the sea of people. As soon as they were out of sight, Jason diverted to the back bar, setting down his glass of champagne.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked him, taking the glass before Jason could even look for a discard tray.

Jason glanced at the impressive array of bottles, suddenly understanding why Bruce tended to stick to soda water or seltzer at these events. Every single word he'd traded with the women had been like a spar of its own. He needed to stay sharp. Sharper than he did, normally.

"Diet coke, lime, please," Jason said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty. He put it in the tip jar, not missing the grateful spark in the bartender's eyes.

"Right away, sir."

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . LET’S GO TO VEGAS.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . minors dni 18+

₊˚⊹ ♡ . word count — 1.9k

₊˚⊹ ♡ . warnings — fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, established relationship, fingering (f receiving), creampie, biting, possessiveness

“Let’s—go—to—fucking—Vegas.”

Rafe’s voice was breathy, each word punctuated with a rough kiss, his teeth nipped at you harshly and his tongue had very little regard for the barrier of your lips, exploring your mouth like he was entitled to every inch of it.

He was.

His hands roamed your body aggressively, desperately, hands digging into your waist and your hips and reaching around to grip your ass in a way that forced a nervous giggle out of you, straight into his mouth, and he swallowed it along with every other cute noise you made.

“You’d look—so—fucking cute—in white.” His mouth moved to the corner of your lips, to your jaw, where he mouthed against the bone and sunk his teeth into your skin hard. You yelped, your fingers tugging at his hair, and he let out the smallest groan into your skin before soothing the quickly reddening mark with a drag of his tongue.

When Rafe got like this, you didn’t even have to participate half the time, all he needed was to claim you, to remind himself of how truly his you were. Without you even saying anything, he could ramble on and on and make himself rock hard just talking about the two of you. Like right now, when he was babbling about getting married in Vegas, and you could see the way his cock strained against his slacks. Painfully so, it looked like.

His hands dragged around your ass, kneading your skin and tugging on your panties. He pulled them taut so they rubbed against your clit suddenly, which was swollen from how bad you needed him, though of course you were letting him take his fill of everything else before he fucked you. He grinned proudly at the way your chest heaved, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration and discomfort as he basically gave you a wedgie for his own enjoyment—though of course, your half-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils told him everything he needed to know about how you were really feeling.

His shirt had been off for a while—as a matter of fact, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d showed up in one. The end result was the same, though. Your fingernails scrabbled lightly against his bare chest for purchase, his tanned muscles tensing under your touch, and you kept your eyes on him. Waiting, patiently, like you were supposed to.

That seemed to send him over the edge, eyes narrowing as he yanked your panties down, the lilac lace flashing against your thighs for only half a second before they were discarded on the floor. His hand was on you immediately, mouth finding yours again, and he teased your entrance with his fingers while he rubbed the flat of his palm tactlessly against your clit. His mouth was sloppy as he kissed you, his breath hot, and you were already whining and bucking your hips against him with every flick of his tongue against yours and rough press of his hand against your pussy.

“You’re my girl, right? Just mine, always.” He growled into your mouth.

This time you answered, nodding weakly, “yes, nghh, always.”

“Always what?”

Rafe should’ve known better than to keep trying to get coherent answers out of you when he was teasing your hole like this, fingers dipping halfway in, just enough to soak his hand, before he tugged them back out again. It provided barely any relief, only stoked the flames of desperation that were licking at your chest. But still, you answered—you were good like that.

“Yours. Always yours.” You whined into his mouth.

“Say you fucking swear.”

“I swear—fuck, Rafe, I swear!” As if you’d said the magic words, like that was all he needed to hear, he sunk two fingers inside of you, curling them and immediately finding the spot that had your head lolling forward, forehead pushed against him. He was unbelievably smug as he watched you, the way your swollen lips formed a near-perfect O as he finger fucked you, juices starting to drip down his hand.

“Please, please!” You keened, hips shoving against his hand roughly, like you could fit more inside of yourself on your own if you tried hard enough.

Always torn between reprimanding you for being difficult or giving in to the smug warmth that took over when you acted like this, he raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”

You struggled with his fingers still moving in and out of you roughly, eyes hazy as you tried to focus on his face, “Please fuck me.”

“I am!” He had the audacity to sound falsely confused, even ramming his fingers more forcefully into you as if to prove his point. You gritted your teeth, though a loud moan managed to escape your mouth anyway, followed immediately by an annoyed whine.

Usually, this would go on for a lot longer. Like… a lot longer. Rafe would toy with you until you were sobbing, pulling his fingers out of you and shoving them into your mouth until tears formed in your eyes from how hard you gagged, and then he’d shove them back inside you, newly soaked. He’d watch your face intently as he made fun of you and edged you endlessly, and his face would break out into a massive grin when you would finally break down and start sobbing from it. Then, maybe, he’d give you what you wanted.

Not now, though. Not when he was in one of his moods.

As if to prove this point, he pressed his lips to yours again, moving them almost gently. Almost. You kissed him back, mewling quietly into his mouth as you leaned further into him. He pulled his fingers out of you, and your frustration at his sudden absence made you break away from the kiss to protest.

Before you could, though, you realized his hand was going to his belt. You watched as he undid his belt buckle sloppily, his hand still glistening with your juices and smearing them against the otherwise pristine metal.

“Be fucking patient—for two seconds.” Though his words were rough, his tone was too soft for him to really mean it, and he let out a sharp breath as his cock finally sprung free from his boxers, where you could still see the wet spot from his precum. The hand you had in his hair tightened to help you keep under control… the two of you had a longstanding issue—you tried desperately to grab his dick nearly every time you saw it, and every time he’d smack your hand hard enough to leave a welt and tell you the same thing—to be fucking patient for two seconds. You’d get it when he said so.

So, this time, you kept one hand in his hair and shoved the other under your thigh. Where they couldn’t grab him, unfortunately.

“That’s my girl.” He breathed, almost reverently. Your face heated up immediately, nearly falling over at how proud he was of you.

Rafe stroked himself a few times, his breath catching slightly as he did, and you watched with wide eyes the way his giant hand moved and how his hips reacted to it. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly, a courtesy he didn’t often give you, and your eyes rolled back immediately. The stretch was minimal, you’d actually always thought his cock fit right inside like the two of you were puzzle pieces (you’d been making an earnest observation when you’d told him that after your first time together, but he’d fucked you so hard afterwards that the bed frame cracked the wall behind it. So much for honest observations.)

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes trained on Rafe as you frantically tried to drink in the sight of him all at once. His abs tensed as he thrust in and out of you, your body jolting every time he bottomed out. His straw-blonde hair was perfectly tousled from the way you’d ran your fingers through it, falling in his face just-so, his jaw clenched in concentration. His oceanic eyes flicked to yours and held your gaze, the two of you locked staring into eachother’s eyes, which set him off again:

“We can go to—that little white fuckin’ church in Vegas—and then—get a—fuck, oh, fuck!” He lost his rhythm a little as he got himself more riled up, and you whimpered against his neck as he sloppily increased his pace, “get a fucking hotel room—and I can fuck you there, too—cause you’ll be mine.”

“I am yours.” You managed to get out, and were rewarded with a hard thrust, kissing your cervix in a way that made you gasp. You squeaked, hands finding his shoulders for stability and digging into his muscles, which rippled with exertion from how tightly was holding onto you.

Rafe reached up to fasten his hand around your throat lightly, pulling your mouth to his in an open-mouth kiss that was more the clashing of teeth and his desperate tongue against yours than it was lips touching.

“I’m gonna… fuck, Rafe, I’m—” He didn’t let you finish, muffling the rest of your sentence with his mouth, though the way he sped up his hips told you he knew what you were going to say. His body was warm and solid against yours, one hand squeezing your throat reassuringly while he held you in place by your waist with the other, fucking you like it really was your wedding night, like he was showing you what the rest of the nights in your life were gonna look like. Your fingernails were practically claws against his shoulders, and his face twisted into a gleeful wince that told you it stung.

“Say my name—say it.” He demanded, the look on your face clearly alerting him to the spots dancing behind your eyelids, the coil tightening inside of you that was seconds away from springing. “Now.”

And you did, shouting his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. Every last muscle of yours tensed around Rafe, your legs locking up and your pussy clenching around him. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to keep fucking you through the aftershocks. You whimpered in sensitivity, maintaining your vice grip around his shoulders to keep you close while he fucked his cum deeper into you.

The wet sounds, which had grown unbelievably louder and more explicit, were what sent him over the edge. His eyes locked on you again, and you watched his face twist, his mouth falling open as he emptied inside of you.

Rafe shuddered, bending over you to mouth a series of kisses along your jaw and the crook of your neck, pressing his nose affectionately against your face and inhaling deeply as he finished cumming.

“I fucking love you, you know that? I do. I’ll always love you. I swear on my life.”

Your eyes fluttered, mouth quirking up slightly. “You say that every time you cum, jerk.”

His head snapped up to look at you, eyebrows furrowed defensively, though once he saw the look on your face and realized you were kidding, he relaxed. “It’s true!” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and cradling your head gently with his hands.

“Let me get you a towel.” He said as he pulled out, and you gave a tired giggle.

“Gentlemanly.” You muttered.

Rafe grinned. “Only the best for my girl, right?”

[thetadispatcher]

The AP700 nodded as he lowered his head slightly, embarrassed he'd let his own panic cause him to ramble unnecessarily and over explain. He couldn't help it, but that didn't stop him from feeling ashamed of himself for it.

Vincent instinctively raised his hand to start fidgeting with his damaged ear, but a sharp snap from Dan's fingers caused him to jump, and his hand shot back down as every synthetic muscle in his body tensed. His attention snapped to stare wide eyed at the PL600, who gave him a stern look and a slight head shake.

Dan had already turned away from the AP700, so missed the signs of how badly he'd startled the newer android. Vincent placed his hand on his chest as he tried to get his breathing back under control, and his pump regulator to slow back down.

He leaned more into the other android as he calmed down, his systems deciding to go into stasis due to how much energy he'd lost. His emotional distressed had put more strain on his systems then usual, causing the tired feeling he usually had to worsen.

Vincent slowly went completely limp as his eyes shut, his joints hadn't locked into place as his position meant he wasn't at risk of falling and damaging himself well powered down.

John caught the odd look on the human's face, nearly calling it out before Nines mentally told him to drop it. The RK900 felt it wasn't necessary to bring attention to it, the fact there was an older Peter and a human Bishop present lead him to believe the android likely had a counterpart as well. One the human clearly knew, so there was no need to call out the reaction to the android stating his name.

Hugh nodded as he took note of the human's name before turning his attention to the game, placing down two of his own cards rather then calling out the man. Which earned him a disapproving look from Nines, who seemed more inclined to believe the human had lied.

Hugh gave the RK900 an angry glare, quietly reminding the other he wasn't built for detective work. Nines stared at the large android a moment, then narrowed his eyes at him. "Nice try." He said as he motioned to the cards, instructing the other to flip them to prove they matched the round card.

The android did as instructed, revealing the cards he'd placed didn't match so he picked up the tool, placing it to where his LED would be. The tool clicked signalling he'd gotten lucky, and the tool hadn't gone off. He placed it back into the table as Nines took his turn, and John did as well. The other unit had decided the RK900 wasn't lying, as Nines made it difficult for him knowing he was made to noticed a liar.

John turned his attention to the human, still trying to develop a profile of him and knowing if he could tell he had lied would help, allowing him to correct his actions as needed.

"I do wonder about Vincent, he seems like he went through something pretty traumatic for him to be so anxious constantly. Might have something to do with his messed up ear." Strasky was cut off by Sixty, who quickly interjected to correct him.

"Nope, that was just poor, rushed shipping that bent his ear, and it was a lot worse then it is now. The parents fixed it on their own instead of taking him for repairs, this was just because of the whole deviant situation getting worse and people attacking Cyberlife stores." Sixty explained as he waved his hand slightly. "He's just easily freaked out due to seeing a lot of dead androids on the news and people attacking non-deviants. He also saw his model dead and hung in a destroyed Cyberlife store, which really didn't help. He freaked out and deviated due to being left alone momentarily in a crowded place, so that's why he's skittish." The Rk800 calmly explained, he felt it best they know Vincent wasn't being abused and that his behavior was due to witnessing androids being attacked for merely existing.

Strasky nodded as Sixty finished, at least now the AP700's initial reaction towards them made sense as he likely thought they were a threat to his safety.

He turned his attention from the android as he left to fetch something, which he suspected would likely be a few boxes to put the toys in so they could easily carry them around. Strasky looked over the shelves, noting that most were realistic colors. Sixty came back with a large box and a smaller one which he set nearby, before he went back to what he'd previously been doing.

Strasky pulled the stuffed toys down that fit the information Willow had given him as he kept talking, silently noting that Sixty was doing the same quite happily. He felt Sixty just liked looking at the toys, and having a reason to go through them was good enough for him.

"I'm sure Daniel will get better quickly, he's in a place where he's getting the appreciation and acceptance he wanted from his previous owners." He felt it was sad that the android was denied something so simple, but at least he was out of that horrible situation and in a far better place.

"Dan is pretty nice too, I can see why Peter's attached to him. We did discuss what happened on PATHOS-II, and I can tell he tried his best to help me work out my feelings about it, and provide me with other ways to look at it. I still don't understand why, but I feel like I can talk to him without worrying about him judging me or anything." Strasky didn't know why, but talking about the horrors of PATHOS-II had helped him feel a bit better. Dan wasn't obligated to help him, but he did. Sure, the PL600 had forced him to voice his feelings on the worst of what had happened, but he felt the android knew pushing him to let out his emotions would benefit him.

"I mean... I want to share how I feel, but I just can't do it without thinking about being a burden and that I have no right to push my problems onto someone else.... Doing everything so far has been a struggle as I can't stop myself from feeling like I'm being a problem, and asking too much when I can't offer much in return... Maybe it's seeing basically someone who is me put so much trust into someone else that makes me feel like I can too, even if I hardly even know Dan." That was the best reason he could think of, or at least the one Masters would've given him if he was talking to her about it. "Or maybe he just really knows what he's doing, he does have a lot of experience dealing with a version of me. So he's probably learned the best way to get me to talk, even if I don't want to."

"I did do my best to help him, that's why we were gone longer then needed. I was pushing him to talk about things he clearly didn't want to, but he did give in, albeit in an emotional explosion. He seemed better afterwards, a bit calmer which is a good start considering everything he went through." Dan knew from dealing with Peter that he had a tendency to bottle up his emotions until he blew up over something small, and he knew harping on the major thing would eventually set him off on an emotional rant about why it upset him.

"Talking things out with his coworkers will definitely help though, based on what he said to me that seems to be the root of the issue. He feels he let everyone down, and that he's solely responsible for a lot of what happened." Dan paused as the creature on his shoulders nuzzled his face before stretching it's head out to Rook, allowing her to pet it's smooth body.

"It's not that he doesn't want help, he just feels guilty and like an annoyance for needing it. Peter's the same way, he'll jump to help anyone who asks, but refuse to ask for help when he needs it because he feels like he'll inconvenience someone. So he bottles everything up till he can't anymore and he blows up over something minor." Dan felt applying his experiences with Peter to the older one was a good way to explain the likely reason behind his actions.

"Peter at least now will go to me with anything that upsets him as he knows I'll never react the way he fears others will, it took a few years to get to that point though." Dan knew part of why Peter saw him as a sibling was due to how hard the PL600 had worked to get Peter to know it was safe to talk to him about whatever he wanted, that Dan wouldn't judge him for it.

"Strasky didn't take as much prodding as I thought he would, likely because he knows how much Peter trusts me, and that in turn means he can too. I saw him struggling with himself every time I repeated my question. I might be able to talk him into sharing his feelings more freely with you." Dan felt it was only fair as he wouldn't be around the man enough to aid him effectively, and he could use the fact Strasky saw him as trustworthy thanks to Peter, even if the man clearly didn't consciously know why he felt the way he did towards the android.

"But I can share some useful tips. A good way to get someone like them to talk is to make yourself vulnerable to them, be it by sharing similar experiences or just difficult things you experienced. I talked to him about how it felt being stuck at Jericho, and let him know his feelings about what happened to him were valid. And when he started talking, I stopped so he would continue." Dan explained, hoping he could at least give them a place to start when dealing with Strasky.

"It does take awhile to get to a point with them were they trust you, but I do believe he has a level of trust in you. He's just worried that dumping his issues on you will cause you to leave, best I can recommend is if he starts voicing those concerns is to reassure him it won't happen, and to not react negatively to whatever he shares. You might not mean something to come off as judgemental, but he'll take it as such and close back off. Try to take a minute after he finishes to think instead of providing an immediate response, try saying thank you or a variation of it. Just to reaffirm it's okay for him to share things and that is appreciated when he does." Dan knew how to handle them from personal experience, and his programming as a household unit meant he knew the best way to gain trust, and get people to share issues with him.

"As a household unit, I am programmed to know how to get the children in my care to trust and talk to me, unfortunately I cannot provide the help they might need. I can only report my concerns and suggest care to the parents in a way that doesn't break the child's trust to confide in me." Dan felt he should explain how he could get people to talk to him, as it was likely very odd how easy it was for him. "I wish I could do more to help, but providing you with what I know is the best I can do."

The android seemed to always be on his best behavior around Vincent, even when he wouldn't have minded bothering Dan. Sure, the other's systems always seemed on the verge of overloading and he didn't enjoy some casual brawling. But he was harmless, thus he could afford to lower his guard.

The only real threat in the house was Bishop anyway, the other humans simply looked odd. They could be ignored and he could spend some time knitting.

"Mh." He looked down as Vincent leaned in and started apologizing profusely. That was a lot of words just for daring to get a little closer. He supposed he appreciated the concern, but he didn't really care.

"You may rest." It wasn't as if it'd compromise his mobility.

Bishop smirked. The temptation to say he already knew Strohmeier's name was strong, but he managed to hold back for the sake of the game.

"The name's Bishop." he said, looking at his cards. He picked a three and placed it down, then looked at the androids.

Willow kept an eye on Sixty, if anything, to be ready in case something got knocked down.

"Even twins have different personalities. These androids have been individuals for a short time and have been molded by their most recent experiences, but they still qualify as such." the cyborg replied, taking her gloves off, "But they're hardly at the end of their path. Perhaps Daniel will improve over time and so might Vincent. Artificial beings can heal too."

That went for Strasky too, as far as she was concerned. Willow reached for the nearest toy, taking a moment to focus on the feeling of the fabric provided by the sensors in her hands.

"The children need more items to decorate their rooms with. Their preferences, according to the last survey, seem to be dogs, felines, birds and have showed less interest in toys with bright colors." she listed, "Erica will likely claim whatever they will turn down. I suppose we should pick whatever catches our attention."

Then again, she could have used a few new plushies as well.

"Well, the hope is that they'll sort each other out…and maybe be nicer to him. Strasky basically felt responsible for everybody else, which worked out as well as it sounds." Rook said, giving a shrug, "And I feel like he doesn't want the help. I can try to cheer him up, but I'm not Strohmeier or one of the others."

She paused for a moment, then carefully reached out to pet Prince.

[solarsturniolo]

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗: This is a collaborative story that me and another person started on, but I am in charge of it now :) All characters in this story are of age. None of the characters are minors.

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: cursing / smut / switch!matt / switch!fem reader / male masturbation / wet dreams / use of good boy / virgin!matt / p in v / oral (fem receiving) / oral (male receiving) / overstimulation / breeding kink / praise kink / mommy kink / scenes mentioning anxiety

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 3,700

Previous parts: Intro / One / Two /

He tossed and turned that night, unable to get the dream out of his head. It had all felt so real. He could smell her perfume, waves of vanilla surrounding him as he laid at her mercy. He could feel her touch, her soft fingers running along his skin, a trail of goosebumps following close behind, warmth encompassing him. He could hear her voice, soft praises and coos of adoration falling from her lips, her tone warm and sweet, flowing like maple syrup dripping from a stack of pancakes. He could taste her lips as she kissed him, her cherry chapstick driving him wild as he nipped at her bottom lip. He could see her electrifying gaze as they locked eyes, his orgasm rushing through his body like a lightning bolt striking a tree. It felt so real…

He tried to fall asleep again, really he did. He wanted to fall asleep again. He wanted to drift back into the heavenly dream he had previously found himself in. He prayed to whatever higher power would listen to him, begging to be transported back into his dream. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, peeking over at his alarm clock, groaning in annoyance, and repeating the cycle, Matt found himself sitting up in his bed. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand, unplugging it from the charger that was barely holding itself together after years of use. He tried to distract himself, hoping that the incessant scrolling and non-stimulating content would lull him to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky. Even after scrolling through and switching between apps, Matt only found himself wide awake, annoyed, and horny.

Undeniably, uncontrollably, unbelievably horny. 

Matt opened the Safari app on his phone, clicking the address bar. The all too familiar website popped up without him even needing to type anything, a clear sign that he had made this search far too many times. Matt made a mental note to clear his search history as he clicked on the site, waiting impatiently for it to load. 

He scrolled through page after page, briefly glimpsing at the exaggerated titles to each video, none of which captured his interest. He let out a frustrated grunt, his dick straining against the cotton fabric of his boxers. He wanted nothing more than to jerk off, to get rid of the incessant throbbing so that he could just sleep, but unfortunately for Matt, he was picky with the porn he watched. Chris made fun of him for it, but he didn’t care. Seeing a woman bent over on some AirBnB couch getting the shit railed out of her, filling the empty disconnected atmosphere with obnoxious sounds, feigning the one thing he truly craved; he just couldn’t bring himself to watch something so meaningless, nonetheless enjoy it. Nothing about it was appealing to him. It wasn’t real. He wanted something real. 

But he had no idea how he felt about actual sex. He’d kissed a few times, but never with tongue and nothing past that. The furthest he had ever gotten was the time he made out with a girl in ninth grade and creamed his pants when she straddled his lap.  Matt was always insecure about his inexperience, afraid that when the time finally came, he would disappoint. This was brand new territory for him…and it was all her fault.

His gaze flickered to the top of his phone, reading the time that was displayed on the screen. “Holy shit,” he muttered. It was much too late in the night for him to still be awake, and yet here he was, pulling on a pair of faded flannel pyjama pants before shuffling over to the door. His fingertips grazed over the handle, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. Matt looked down the dark hallway, and once he was sure everyone was asleep, he carefully tiptoed over to the stairs. 

Each step had Matt tensing up, the old wooden floorboards groaning and squeaking under the weight of his feet. He cringed at a particularly loud step, even pausing for a moment to ensure he hadn’t woken anyone up. After another painfully long three minutes, Matt finally reached the bottom of the steps and made a beeline for the kitchen. In seconds he found himself standing in front of Nick’s bedroom door, and Matt raised his hand to knock but he hesitated. He leaned closer, his ear ghosting over the old faded wood. The muffled sound of the tv could be heard, along with Nick’s agitated remarks. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t fucking deserve her and now you’re getting her voted off!?” Matt smiled to himself. Once he was sure that his brother was awake and not murmuring nonsense in his sleep, he knocked on the door.

“God fucking- Yeah! Come in!.”

 He opened the door to see the room bathed in lavender LED light, the television playing whatever show Nick had suddenly found interest in. Tonight, it just so happened to be one of those ridiculous dating reality TV shows. Nick sat in his bed, his back propped against pillows, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his stomach. He turned his head the second the door opened, half expecting Mary Lou to come lecture him for being too loud, but he relaxed upon seeing his brother in the doorway. “Jesus, you can’t sleep either?” Nick huffed. “Get in here.”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, until he saw Chris’s head poke up from the other side of the bed. He was sitting on the floor, for whatever reason, and he flashed a cheesy grin when he saw his brother standing in the doorway. 

“Why are you on the floor.”

“Wow, nice to see you too Matthew,” Chris rolled his eyes. “Nice of you to show your face at-“ he held up his arm, looking at his bare wrist. “Two thirty in the morning.” 

“Ignore him,” Nick mumbled, rolling his eyes and grabbing the remote controller from his nightstand to pause his show. “He’s annoyed because Nate left him hanging-“

Chris huffed, an inaudible response following as he turned back around and sunk back down onto the floor. The other two shared a look of irritation at the sound of Chris typing on his phone, the younger of the trio completely unbothered by the incessant clicking. Rolling his eyes, Nick looked at Matt expectantly. “Well?” 

Matt sighed, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He sulked over to Nick’s bed, collapsing onto the empty side as his brother moved over to make space for him. Matt wriggled under Nick’s blankets, keeping his face buried in the pillow. 

“What’s wrong,” Nick said, his tone changing the question to a demand. 

The keyboard sounds paused for a moment. “Yeah, your vibe is like…weird,” Chris added. He langered up from the ground and sat on the edge of his brother’s mattress. “You didn’t talk to us like all afternoon.” 

Matt sighed, questioning if he should say anything at all. But his brothers were his sanctuary. He always told them everything. It was eating him up inside, keeping this from them. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, especially from the two people that could always read him like a book. He wanted to tell them everything; his grades, the tutoring, her. 

He decided to take one life crisis at a time. 

 “...There’s a girl,” He started. 

Nick shrieked. Chris looked at Nick, punching him in the upper arm as a proud smile formed on his face. “I fucking told you, you owe me lunch tomorrow.” 

Matt looked up from the pillow, furrowing his eyebrows yet again. “You knew?”

“Well no shit,” Chris laughed. “You? Willingly going to the library? I put the pieces together,” he smirked. “So what were you doing in the library with this girl?” he teased. 

Matt felt his face flush with heat, shooting a glare in Chris’s direction. “Nothing you’re thinking, pervert. We…” he trailed off. I can’t tell them I'm failing. I just can’t do it. “We were going over a project for English. That’s it.”

“Do we know her?” Nick asked as he opened instagram up on his phone. He wasn’t disinterested, but he knew how his brother was. Matt got embarrassed easily, so on the rare occasion that Nick did want to know more, he also knew that he had to be mindful of his reactions. Nonchalance was his best bet.

Matt huffed. Chris’s eyes widened and his smile grew. “No fucking way.”

“Chris-“

“Still?! It’s been four years, man!”

Nick looked back and forth between the two, confused by their exchange. Matt groaned, flopping back down face first into the pillow. “Matt liked this girl in our grade back when we started high school, but couldn’t grow the nuts to ask her out,” Chris filled Nick in. “We had her in our woodshop class last year and it was like I was partners with a brick wall,” Chris laughed, only making Matt all the more embarrassed. “I didn’t think you still liked her.”

“Shut up,” he groaned. 

Nick finally decided to chime in, dropping his phone onto his chest. “Wait a second, it’s not that girl from your weird baking class was it?” 

Matt’s face grew even more red, if that was even possible. “Nick, shut up-“

Now it was Chris’s turn to tilt his head quizzically, brow furrowed, looking at Nick expectantly for some context. “Baking class? The fuck-“

“Introduction to culinary,” Matt corrected them, hiding his face with the palms of his hands. 

“You were probably at practice or something,” Nick dismissed his younger brother with a wave of his hand before continuing. “Matt’s cooking class had some weird competition thing after school, me and mom went to it-“

“Nick, shut the fuck up,” Matt warned his brother, though his threat was open ended and held no real weight to it. He rolled onto his side, his back facing his brothers.

“Matt made this god awful chicken parmesan, but mom pretended to like it-“

Matt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest now. “It wasn’t that bad-“ he defended, remembering the way his mother cupped his face and kissed his forehead in the middle of the classroom, praising him for his hard work, all the while his brother discretely tossed his plate into the garbage bin out of sight. 

“Anyways, we all got to try everyone’s food and this girl made the BEST fucking coconut cream pie. Chris, it was actually unreal how fucking good it was-“

“Nick I swear to fuck-“

Chris smiled in amusement, criss-crossing his legs as he indulged himself in Nick’s story telling. It was rare for Chris to remain quiet like this, but at the expense of his brother’s ego, he remained engaged and attentive. Matt groaned, realizing there was no way to stop his brother from telling this embarrassingly awful story. He yanked the pillow out from behind his head, letting his head fall back onto the mattress before pulling the pillow over his face, wanting nothing more than to suffocate himself right then and there. 

“This motherfucker tries the pie, looks her dead in the eyes, and tells her he likes her cream-“

Matt flinched at the ferocity of Chris’s laughter thundering throughout the room, echoes of it bouncing off of the walls. The sound was followed by countless shushes from Nick, beckoning their brother to keep his voice down. “Mom and dad are sleeping you idiot,” Nick hissed, smacking Chris on the arm. Usually, Chris would retaliate and hit him back, but he was far too entertained by the story to even care about the sting he felt on his bicep. 

“You told her-“ he cut himself off, laughing again. Matt groaned and rolled over onto his back, pressing the pillow into his face with more force. Maybe if I press down hard enough, I’ll suffocate myself. “You told her you liked her cream?” Chris managed to force out between giggles. 

“No-“ Matt grunted, closing his eyes tightly as he felt the pillow being snatched from his grasp. “I told her I really liked her cream.”

This, of course, causes another fit of giggles to rise from Chris’s chest. Tears flooded his eyes as he leaned forward, doing everything within his power to keep his volume at a decent level. Nick rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t contain the toothy grin that snuck its way onto his face. “You guys suck,” Matt grumbled. “This is like middle school humor, grow up,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest once again. He tried to push the memory out of his mind, but it crept up on him and lingered, like a monster in the shadows. Her fingers grazing past his as she handed him a plate, her gaze locking with his as he eagerly tasted her homemade dessert, the words escaping him faster than he could even think.

Chris sniffled, grasping his shirt collar as he found himself finally settling after his laughing fit. He laid himself between his brothers, wrapping an arm over the front of Matt’s shoulders. “I love you, man. You crack me up,” he grinned, another string of giggles threatening to escape him as he replayed the moment in his head again. 

“I can’t ask her out, not after that-“ Matt mumbled, carefully uncrossing his arms so as to not disturb his brother’s comfortable resting position. He’d never admit it, but he quite enjoyed his brothers being touchy with him. Something about it made him feel safe and connected with them. It felt like home. 

“Maybe she found it flattering,” Nick suggested. “She probably knew you were talking about the pie-“

“Or were you?” Chris smirked, raising an eyebrow at Matt. 

In a swift motion, Matt walloped Chris in the bicep, shooting him a look that made Chris shiver. “Alright dude, my bad.”

Matt looked over at Nick, desperation clear in his eyes. “What the fuck do I do, man? I can barely fucking focus during our study sessions,” he sighed. 

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you were working on a project?”

Matt felt his heart drop, his mouth going dry. Fuck. He needed to lie, and he needed to do it fast. “Same thing, you know what I meant,” he mumbled. He pushed Chris’s arm off of his upper chest, rolling his eyes when Chris moved his arm right back to where it had been seconds prior. 

Nick dismissed Matt’s previous statement, not thinking too much of his slip up. “Tell her she’s pretty and ask her out. She is pretty, right?”

Matt’s eyes closed, his chest falling with a deep exhale. All he could think about was her. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, her voice…Once he had started to feel his dick stiffen in his pyjama pants, he opened his eyes once more, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t even find the words, man.”

“Then it should be easy. Can we be done here? I’m trying to see who’s gonna get voted off next,” Nick mumbled, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, his focus shifting back to the television on his dresser. 

X O X O X O

Matt hadn't gotten much sleep that night. He watched with heavy eyes as the numbers on his alarm clock changed; every sixty seconds felt like an hour. His head spun, his imagination driving him crazy with fake scenario after fake scenario, conversations that would never happen, touches they would never share. His heart felt heavy. Matt huffed, rolling over onto his other side.  He winced, his hand moving to relieve the ache between his legs. Never in his life did Matt feel as sexually frustrated as he did now. Even when he went through puberty, it was never like this. The desire burning in him was a flame so ancient, yet so ripe at the same time. Foreign, yet familiar. A primal hunger for physical connection, a thirst for release. Diseased with lust. It felt wrong to feel this way, to crave any piece of her. Hell, he hardly knew her. But God, it felt so right at the same time. To crave her, to need her, to have her all to himself. It was enthralling. Perpetual. Addicting. 

The only downside to it was the sneaking around. He hated lying to his brothers, it made his stomach flip and his palms sweat, but he was far too embarrassed and ashamed to admit what was really going on. To admit that if he wasn’t nearly doomed to repeat senior year, she would have never even looked his way. 

Although it wasn’t ideal, being in this tutoring program gave him a newfound purpose. And, yes, there was a possibility that the program itself wasn’t the only aspect that had Matt leaping out of bed in the morning. 

It was strange. He had never spent so long trying to get ready in the mornings before school. Usually he’d throw on the nearest pair of sweats and whatever hoodie he had laying around in his room. But now it was different. He wanted to look good; he wanted to look good for her. He felt ridiculous, to say the least. Outfit after outfit, pulled on and quickly discarded into a pile on the floor. Matt huffed, going to his dresser and opting on a pair of cargo pants instead of his usual sweatpants. 

It would be worth noting that February in Somerville Massachusetts is cold. Very fucking cold. By deciding on the cargos, Matt was also sacrificing his comfort and warmth…but if she would even notice or say anything, it would be worth it. And so, Matt snatched a purple crewneck from his closet and turned, shutting the door with his heel as he pulled it on over his head. He finished off the outfit with his air forces that were falling apart at the seams and, before he left his bedroom, he went back to his dresser, opening the top drawer. He dug around through the plethora of socks, his fingers brushing over the cold glass bottle buried beneath them. 

He didn’t usually wear cologne. He couldn’t even remember how he had gotten this bottle in his possession. But none of that mattered to him now. All that mattered was making the best impression that he could. He was mindful; only one spritz on the neck and one on his wrists. He buried the bottle back into his sock drawer before rushing to his full length mirror. He fixed his necklace, ensuring that the clasp was at the back of his neck. Matt ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it and fixing it, huffing in annoyance as it fell right back into place. Once he was satisfied with his look, he grabbed his favorite coat from where it hung on the back of his desk chair and snatched his backpack from the corner of the room. He closed his bedroom door behind him as he left, flicking the light to his room off, and began his descent to the kitchen where his brothers were already waiting. He pulled his coat on, taking the last step down the staircase. Matt rounded the corner, passing the family room and finally stepping foot into the kitchen.

Nick’s gaze was locked on his phone, though he still managed to greet Matt. “Do you have a fucking herd of elephants up in your room?” He mumbled. 

Matt’s face reddened. “Huh?”

“You-” Nick looked up, and immediately his brow furrowed with suspicion. “It’s nine degrees out and you chose today to not wear sweatpants?” He questioned. 

Chris looked over his shoulder from where he sat at the island, shoulders hunched, his mouth full of toast. He didn’t bother waiting to swallow his food before speaking, though that came as a shock to neither of his brothers. “The fuck…you’re gonna turn into an ice cube.” Chris’s eyes widened as he took his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Wait, now I wanna listen to Ice Cube-“

Matt pointed at Chris languidly. “Not happening, I’m getting aux.”

Chris huffed, dropping his phone face down onto the countertop. “Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, shoveling the remaining piece of toast into his mouth. Matt shuffled over to the fridge, eyeing the contents inside. His stomach growled, but nothing seemed appetizing. He checked the pantry next, snatching a granola bar and a bag of mini muffins, stuffing them into his coat pocket. He closed the pantry door with gentle intent. His brow furrowed at the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket, but once he pulled it out and checked the notification, his heart leapt into his throat. Matt’s ears glowed a bright red, his palms beginning to sweat as he typed his password in and opened Snapchat. 

Snapchat // New Message 

no tutoring today, extra curricular stuff (groan). keep working on your essay and i’ll check it tmrw :) 

Matt stared at the message, his heart sinking in his chest. All of the effort he put into his appearance today was for nothing. He exhaled, leaning against the wall as he thought of what to say. Something nonchalant, something cool…anything that didn’t scream desperation. 

Oh ok.

He had to admit, he was disappointed. He had really been looking forward to seeing her again. He thought for a moment before he opened his Snapchat again, clicking back into the chat. 

Yk I’m free after school if your still up for it.

He stared at the message for a long time; so long that her bitmoji had popped up in the bottom left corner, peeking out over the text bar. ‘Jesus Matt,’ he thought to himself. ‘For once in your life, grow some fucking balls.’

He clicked the send button and, with just as much haste, he fled the chat and locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket. “If you’re not in the car in five minutes I’m leaving without you,” Matt announced, walking past Nick towards the stairs, making his way down to the mudroom to leave. Nick lifted his head again, looking towards the staircase with a furrowed brow.

“Are you fucking wearing cologne?!”

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tags 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

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[bigification]

Lumberjack - A TF Short

"Why did I need to come here dad?" You whine.

"This is important, son. It's a family tradition." He responds, clearly tired of convincing you.

"Look, I already told you a million times, I'm not gonna be a lumberjack like you." You try to plead with him as you enter the department store.

"Just give it a try, we'll start with some woodworking to get you started and if you still don't like it I'll stop asking." He says as he holds his hand out.

"Deal." You smile and shake his hand.

You're 99 percent sure you're not gonna like it, so maybe this will finally get him off your back about this whole family business thing. Your father is nothing if not honest, so it feels like a weight off your back that he might actually stop nagging you about it.

"Here we are." He says as you turn into the lumber aisle. "Why don't you grab a few two by fours." He asks.

It doesn't bring you joy, but you promised you'd give it a chance. You walk up to the wall of wood planks, scanning for which ones are two by fours.

"Not that one." Your father says with concern as you grab the wrong plank. "Just to the right."

Your hand wanders to the right until it meets a large two by four. You wrap your hand around it and try to pick it up, but you can't. You try a few times to lift it off the shelf, to no avail. Is it just too heavy? Are you really that weak that you can't even lift one plank of wood? That can't be right.

The silence is broken by a cracking sound coming from your hand. You watch in horror as your hand starts to grow, the bones cracking and reshaping as your palm doubles in size and your fingers become thick and calloused. It somehow feels comfortable holding the plank of wood now. Your hand is large enough to nearly wrap around the whole plank, and the callouses protect from the splinters sticking out of the wood. Why does it feel so... familiar?

You don't have to think about it though. As if it was spreading up from your hand. Your forearm grows thicker than your biceps and your biceps triple in size in an instant, ripping right through the sleeves of your shirt. Thick veins start to surface along the defined muscles on your arms.

Your other arm quickly follows suit, making you look like a cartoon character with massive arms and a tiny body. That wouldn't last long however.

Your shirt rips even more as your shoulders broaden with bulging muscles. Your flat chest suddenly bursts outward with muscle, quickly becoming two juicy pecs that strain your shirt to its limits. Your pudgy belly melts away to reveal a perfectly defined eight pack. Even your waist slims down, creating a perfect V shaped upper body.

The transformation has only just begun. You feel a tightness grow in your shorts. Your free hand wanders over to your crotch. Your dick feels much smaller down on account of having hands twice as large as before. Although you start to feel your underwear tighten as the bulge in your shorts grows and grows until it fits perfectly inside your massive man hands.

Your shorts continue to get tighter when your flat ass begins to rise like a loaf of bread, growing into two perky fat globes. It doesn't help when your thighs swell to twice the size, forcing you to spread your legs just to walk. Oh, and a man as well hung as you needs a pair of beastly feet to match. The straps on your sandals don't stand a chance against your Sasquatch feet, growing to a monstrous size 20.

Then the transformation finally starts to make its way to your head. Your neck thickens, your jaw widens, your nose grows longer, your brow bone sticks out more. Then it hits you. Your eyes widen as your brain starts to change. Everything you learned in university is gone in an instant and replaced with the memories of a real man, like your father. Axes, saws, and sex are all you know. Your brain also pumps your body with a surplus of testosterone. A light brown beard sprouts along your sharp jawline. It spreads down your neck to your pecs and along your eight pack. You keep the rest under check, but you would look like Bigfoot in a week if you didn't shave.

"You sure it's the two by fours you want?" You ask your father in a deep gruff voice.

There is an awkward silence for a moment.

"Son?" Your father says.

You turn to face him.

"Why don't you flex for me?" He asks.

It was a weird request, but you'll never turn down a chance to flex for someone.

"You've been hitting the gym, haven't you?" He compliments you.

"Yeah, I'm glad you noticed. Maybe you should come with me." You tease him by pinching the fat in his gut.

"You know I used to look just like you when my pops was teachin me. But us lumberjacks need to eat well to make it through the day." He chuckles.

"I'll be fine with chicken and rice." You respond.

"Oh, just you wait until I've got you workin in the forest with me. You'll be begging for seconds and thirds. Soon enough you'll look just like your old man." He continues laughing while he shakes his gut. "Now c'mon, let's get you in some real clothes. None of those shitty gym clothes." He says excitedly as he walks away.

[etclouie]

together in one

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — summary; separating yourself from the group and finding yourself tucked away in Daryl’s tent, but things get heated (Daryl Dixon x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — setting; farm era 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — warnings; not full on smut, minors do not interact!!!, dry humping, daryl cums in his pants, mutual pinning, kinda subby!daryl, reader + daryl are both outsiders in the group, that’s it really

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — word count; 959

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — a/n; working through some of my own ideas the now before i write reqs, just cause of my 600 event

twd masterlist | main masterlist like daryl? join my taglist !

you’d been feeling different in comparison to the group lately, pushing yourself away and growing closer to the group’s other outsider; Daryl. 

both of you grew closer after what happened at the CDC, finding comfort in the others silence. 

but when Daryl upped and moved his tent far away from everyone else, it caused a little rift between the both of you. 

so when you stalked up to his tent, you had the intention of talking things out between the both of you, but when you seen him sprawled out on his cot it had your words turning to mush. 

Daryl leaned back on his elbows, one of his eyebrows raised in questioning while something akin to a smirk toyed at his lips. 

“you’ve been out here yourself for a bit, wanted to check up on you”

you broke the silence, a welcomed change to the empty and quietness of his tent. 

he huffed, lip curling at the corner before he nodded. his own little way of saying it was okay to stay. 

“am fine..”

he told as you sat at the end of his cot, letting your eyes flicker up his body until they met his. 

the thing with Daryl was that he’d only let you in, so when he caught the way your eyes flickered across his body it caused a pool of warmth inside him. 

he gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing before he grunted. you seen the way his hips shifted, quickly averting your gaze as he spoke. 

“need y’r hand”

the request was upfront, and unlike him usually. but it piqued your interest. 

tilting your head back to him, eyes falling to the bulge straining in his jeans while heat shot through your body. 

“only feel like this ‘bout you”

when your eyes met his again, the sincerity was prominent. his pupils were blown wide, a mix of his sincerity and the lust he had for you. 

you couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped past your lips before you crawled into his lap, a whine falling from his lips at the feeling of you on top of him. 

“like this baby?”

you asked softly, the pet name making his head fall back and his eyes screw shut. you leaned in, capturing his lips with yours before you started to slowly roll your hips against his. 

hearing his breath hitch, both of his hands moving to grab your hips as his cock throbbed in the confines of his pants. 

his desperation fuelled something inside you, his willingness for you to take charge causing your panties to dampen with your arousal. 

continuing to roll your hips against his, lips pressing to his again in a desperate row of kisses. nipping at his bottom lip and a whine toppling from his lips again, his hands squeezed at your hips as his hips rocked up against you. 

the whole scene was desperate, heady breathing and needy grinding. 

with each pass of your hips, his cock throbbed with need. aching against the zipper of his jeans, desperate for release.

Daryl had never felt like this with someone before, had never had his climax build so quickly. but god, did you make his head fuzzy with want. 

“oh fuck—“

he cursed, back arching up off of the cot as his head threw itself back. your lips curved into another smirk, watching him amused as you gave another roll of your hips. 

he whined again, before his whines turned to whimpers. his hips canted up against you, his bulge pressing just right against your centre and causing the coil in his belly to wind impossibly tighter. 

you could sense that he was teetering on the edge, could feel the insistent throb of his cock through both of your jeans as his hands pawed desperately at your hips. 

leaning in you kissed him again, teeth nipping at his bottom lip before you whispered out to him. 

“yeah bubs?”

something akin to a growl left him, your tone was teasing despite the softness that you spoke with. 

his hips bucked up against you, in a frenzied pace that confirmed every suspicion on his impending release. 

with a couple more rolls of your hips, and another kiss to his lips he was toppling over the edge with a strangled groan. 

smirking against his lips as his hips bucked again, feeling him twitch through both sets of your jeans as he spilled his release into the denim. 

the pool of arousal in his belly quickly replaced with embarrassment, everything in his post high glaze screamed at him for finishing like that. 

“hey don’t be embarrassed, that was hot”

you reassured him, hands soothing across his chest. he lay back against the cot with a sigh, eyes flicking between your face and the roof of his tent. 

his grip on your hips softened, thumbs drawing absentminded shapes across your denim clad skin before he grumbled out. 

“never done tha’ a’fore”

his accent thickened, despite the remnants of embarrassment in his tone you could hear the pleased, blissed out part of him. 

appreciating the warmth that spread through him at the pleasure you’d just given him, god he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. 

“well, it was really hot”

you repeated, catching his lips again before laying against his chest. head laying on his shoulder, feeling him glance down at you before a breath passed his lips. 

his right hand moved from your hip to run across your back, fingers trailing the length of your spine as he spoke. 

“don’ feel hot, feels sticky ‘nd messy”

that pulled a laugh from you, shaking your head before pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw and then whispering in his ear. 

“a hot sticky mess”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[domm1etae]

riding mingi after the show

the second mingi walked into your shared hotel room, his hair damp from the post-show shower and a towel slung around his neck, you knew exactly where the night was heading. he didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dragged over you—sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him like you had nowhere else to be.

"you didn’t come to the afterparty," he said, his voice low and rough, still carrying that adrenaline-fueled edge from the stage. he dropped the towel onto the back of a chair, leaning against the doorframe with that cocky smirk that made your stomach flip.

"didn’t feel like sharing," you shot back, biting your lip as you met his stare. "thought maybe i’d get the private encore."

his smirk deepened, sharp and full of heat, as he crossed the room in a few quick strides. "oh, you’ll get it," he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed until you were flush against him. "you just better keep up, baby."

before you could answer, his lips crashed into yours, hot and demanding, his hands roaming over your hips and under your thighs. you gasped when he bit down on your bottom lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he pressed you back against the bed.

"fuck, you’ve been on my mind all night," he rasped, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown with lust as his fingers hooked into your panties, sliding them down your legs. "kept thinking about this—how you’d look riding me, moaning my name."

"then stop thinking and let me," you whispered, your breath hitching as you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down just enough to free him.

he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs as you straddled him, the heat between your bodies making you both shiver. "you’re so fucking impatient," he muttered, but there was no bite to it—just pure need as he lined himself up, his tip brushing against you.

"can’t help it," you replied, sinking down onto him slowly, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the stretch. "been waiting for this all night."

his head tipped back, a low groan rumbling from his chest as you started to move, your hips rolling against him. his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as his teeth caught his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the way you took him.

"shit," he hissed, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "you feel so good—fuck, just like that, baby."

the way he filled you had your mind spinning, your moans growing louder with each bounce of your hips. his lips found your neck, teeth grazing over your skin before sucking a mark just above your collarbone, and the sensation only spurred you on.

"mingi," you whimpered, your voice shaking as his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing hard as he thrust up to meet you. "you’re so—fuck—"

"perfect," he groaned, his pace quickening, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. "you’re fucking perfect—taking me so well. you don’t even know what you do to me."

you could feel yourself unraveling, the heat building in your core as his hands tightened their grip, his lips trailing down your chest. "come on, baby," he rasped, his voice strained. "let go for me. i wanna feel you."

his words sent you over the edge, your body trembling as you cried out his name, and the way you clenched around him had him following seconds later, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep, his grip on you unrelenting.

the room fell silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both tried to catch your breath. mingi pressed a lazy kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing slow circles on your waist.

"guess you really did want that private encore," he muttered, a breathless laugh escaping his lips.

you grinned, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "and you didn’t disappoint."

[revelboo]

Hello! Just wanted to thank you again for all your stories. Like many other people have already said, please take care of yourself. But also, I hope you're still enjoying writing these! Like it hasn't become an obligation or a source of pressure. Take all the breaks you need.

(You likely already know to do that, apologies. Just saying it because many many years ago I *didn't* know that ^^; )

No worries. That’s actually why I’d stopped writing on FFN years ago- felt obligated to answer every single request. At this point, I’m just doing this for fun. I’d missed writing silly TF stuff and you guys are challenging me to write characters I’ve never even considered

Drive Pt 5

Constructicons x Reader

• Tangled in your blankets, you curl onto your side with one of the three books that been in the things Bonecrusher and Long Haul had brought you and try to keep awake as Scavenger’s scoop sways with his steps. You’re not sure what they’re working on, only that you’d been picked up blankets, book, and all by Bonecrusher and plunked into Scavenger’s scoop. Along with three more blankets, a pillow, a bottle of water, and a box of granola bars. Can hear them softly arguing as they work, occasionally getting jostled when someone bumps your current ride and you tip your head up to stare at the stars overhead. Freedom all around you and you can’t get down without breaking your neck.

• Heading over to Hook to check the blueprints Scrapper had made for them, Scavenger can feel the warmth of you, feel every time you shift around inside his scoop and it’s a strange, but not unsettling sensation having you there even though he’d protested when Bonecrusher had just dumped you inside without asking. And it wasn’t like he could deny that you’re safer with them than alone in their habsuite. “You still good back there?” He asks walking back to gather more materials and shivering when you lay a little hand against him.

• Grabbing Scavenger’s scoop when he tries to walk past and tugging to make his brother nearly bend backwards with a strained ‘frag off, you glitch,’ Bonecrusher checks on you. Ignoring Scavenger, he rumbles when you look up at him and smile. Holding his brother still with one big hand as he struggles and swears, Bonecrusher reaches to rub a servo against your jaw and warms when you reach to touch his servo. Chasing you down had been fun, but now he just feels guilty about it. But he still gets a thrill remembering the hunt. Maybe when your ankle is healed you’d let him catch you again?

• Sitting up when Bonecrusher finally stops petting you and lets Scavenger go, you really can’t figure out their deal. The six big mechs so rough with each other, jostling and arguing. And then treating you like you’re made of glass. They’d chased you down like predators going after prey, scaring you half to death and now they’re keeping you like a favored pet. They must want something from you, right? Or maybe they just like having something to care for. Standing, you try to see out over the top edge of the scoop.

• “Don’t fall and break something else,” Hook growls when he spots your little head peeking out and he reaches up to tap you gently on the nose with a servo until you duck back down out of reach. He can still see the top of your head, though as you move around. “Stay down,” he adds tiredly. Because the rest of the Decepticons seem to have lost their minds and he’d rather you stay out of sight. Megatron’s little message to the ranks and then that stupid brawl between the commanders in the hall has him on edge. Just keeps circling in his processor. Cybertronians and humans fragging. Primus. You should be safe out here in the woods, but he’s not sure what to make of any of it.

• Sitting back down, you listen to them working. Hear them pushing trees down. Mixmaster laughing raucously at something Scrapper said that you didn’t quite catch. The sounds of metal on metal, thumps and rumbles. Hooking an arm around your pillow, you stretch out on your belly with the book. There’s not really enough moonlight to read by, so you just listen to them work. Trying to figure out why you feel so safe with them when you should be scared, trying to escape.

Previous

[rubywillkins]

Hi, this is an order for your cafee. Dont know if I picked too much, i just did one from each.

Can I have skim Milk, bruchetta, spaghetti, club soda, pork chops, potato gnocci and dark mocha. With mv1 x fem reader🩷

Thank youuu

Sure darling ♥️, you didn't pick much sweety its actually a bit less so the ff will be a bit short ♥️

Max Verstappen|

Tension and Tenderness

Pairing max Verstappen × female reader

Skim milk dry humping bruschetta edging spaghetti hand cuffs club soda pillow talk pork chops "so good for me, look at how much you came" potato gnocchi "shh, just look at me, baby" dark mocha dating

The paddock was buzzing with its usual energy. Y/N stood near Max's Red Bull garage, chatting animatedly with one of the mechanics, Lucas. She admired how Lucas was always so patient explaining the technical intricacies of Max’s car, and her curiosity often led her to these lighthearted conversations.

Max, who had just wrapped up his debrief, spotted them from a distance. His jaw tightened as he saw Y/N laughing at something Lucas said. The warmth in her eyes sent a pang of jealousy through him, though he knew deep down it was irrational.

By the time Y/N rejoined him, Max’s mood had visibly shifted.

“Had a good chat?” he asked curtly, his tone sharp.

“Yeah, Lucas was just explaining how the new setup impacts—”

“Lucas this, Lucas that,” Max interrupted, his voice low but edged with annoyance. “You seem to spend more time with him than me lately.”

Y/N frowned, caught off guard. “Max, are you seriously jealous? He’s just being nice and answering my questions.”

Max huffed but didn’t reply, his blue eyes betraying the storm brewing within. They finished the rest of their day in strained silence, the usual playful banter replaced by tension.

The drive home was quiet, and Y/N felt the weight of his emotions. Max rarely let his insecurities show, but when he did, it hit hard.

As soon as they stepped into their shared apartment, she turned to him. “Max, talk to me. What’s really going on?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I don’t like seeing you with him, okay? It gets to me. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it. You’re mine, and the thought of someone else catching your attention...”

She stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. “You’re the only one I want, Max. You have nothing to worry about.”

His eyes softened, but the tension in his body remained. Without another word, he pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring all his unspoken emotions into it. Y/N felt the shift—his jealousy melting into need, his anger replaced by a longing to feel connected.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of passion and tenderness. Max’s hands explored her as if reminding himself she was his, every touch filled with a mix of possessiveness and love. "You deserve to be punished young lady" he said while putting handcuffs on you... You hesitate a bit but you were enjoying it.. you don't see this side of max often..

He picked you up and made you sit on his lap kissing you roughly.. his hands caressing your ass and slowly pushing it towards his hardening dick...

At this point you were also turned on and both of your bodies were moving in sync Fully clothed...

"max.. don't make me more needy baby... Just put it in.. pls.." you said yearning to feel his dick inside you...

"Not so easily baby, this is a punishment.." he said smirking...

In one go both of your clothes were on the floor..

He inserted himself into you .. making you gasp because of the sudden movement...

It felt so good.. he was slowly pounding into you making it unbearable for you...

"baby pls.. pls a bit fast" you said.. "are you sure"

He started to pound in you roughly.. it was good very good but rough at the same time.. but he pulled out the moment you were about to cum...

"oh.. god no... Max... Why don't you let me cum"

"its a punishment baby" " max pls..it didn't feel good" you said with your big baby eyes.. which melted his heart right away.. "shh, just look at me, baby"

He started pounding into you again this time perfectly.. not too much rough.. but it felt amazing to you... When you both were about to cum.. he increased his pace go max.. it was good.. infact it was the best part... And you both came at the same time..

"so good for me, look at how much you came"

He said resting his head on your head panting from cuming right into you...

they lay tangled in the sheets, their breathing slowing as the adrenaline ebbed. Max traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, his head resting against hers.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” he murmured. “I trust you, I do. It’s just...sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you.”

She turned to face him, her fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Max, you don’t have to be jealous. Lucas is a friend, but you’re the one I love. You’re my everything.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she promised, leaning in to kiss him softly.

They stayed like that for hours, talking about everything and nothing—his next race, their plans for the future, and the little moments that made their relationship special. The vulnerability in their conversation only deepened their bond, and by the time sleep claimed them, the earlier tension was a distant memory.

In the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew they had something unshakable.

[lemon-woos]

𝙎𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙔𝙤𝙪! (Song Mingi x Reader)

Synopsis: You and your best friend (and lowkey, crush), Mingi, have an unspoken competition to see who can cover their room in the most band posters. Unfortunately for you, the best spot for your new Nine Inch Nails poster is a little too high up.

A/N: A tribute for our pop punk prince! I love this to bits.

     If your wallet wasn’t screaming in pain from the sheer amount of money you’d spent hours before,  the joints in your knees definitely were as you stretched high, a coveted Nine Inch Nails poster in your grasp. There was barely any space on your bedroom walls for any more band posters, but you couldn’t help but order more in bulk. After all, Mingi’s entire ceiling was poster-clad; you couldn’t let him beat you out  in wall decor.

     “Go on your tiptoes. Maybe it’ll add a good centimeter or two for reaching.”

     You turn and glare at him laying on your bed lazily, the homework you’d been working on sitting abandoned at the foot. He wasn’t even watching you, opting to stare at some video essay on his phone — probably some Warped Tour controversy from 2011.

     “Can it!” you huff, grabbing the nearest object — a glittery gel pen — and chucking it at his forehead. He lets out a yelp and jerks back, narrowly missing the Of Mice & Men poster behind him.

     “Hey!” he pouts, crossing his arms. His hair, freshly dyed back to black, falls in front of his eyes. “That’s assault, I’ll have you know. I could sue you for that.”

      You shake your head, turning around to reach back to the spot of choice for the Nine Inch Nails poster. “With what money?” you ask. “You blew it all last week on that stupid vinyl collection.”

     You hear him gasp in (somewhat) fake offense. “It’s not stupid!” he insists. “It’s every Fall Out Boy album in top condition, no resells. That’s a fucking deal! Don’t be jealous of me.”

     “Trust me,” you chuckle, your voice strained as you hop up on one foot, trying to gain the height needed to get the damn poster in place.

“I’m not jealous. I just think it was a waste of money on your part, Min.” 

     “Oh, that’s rich,” he mutters. “Didn’t you just spend your entire paycheck on — Wait. What’re you doing?”

      In the middle of his refuting, you’d grabbed the beanbag chair from the corner of your room to boost yourself, the object notorious for being on the verge of falling apart at its seams. You look back at him, an eyebrow raised. “Climbing up. What does it look like I’m doing?”

     “No!” he exclaims, slight panic edging his voice. “You’re gonna fall off that shit and die. You’ve got terrible balance, dude. Get off of it.”

     Your face twists into a scowl at his words. “Hell no!” you reply indignantly. “I’m fine. My balance is great, thank you. I won’t fall.”

     You stretch upwards, your body wobbling a little from the instability of the beanbag chair. It makes you a little anxious (you really don’t want to eat shit in front of the best friend you might have a thing for), but you’re not about to take defeat in the unspoken competition between you two. Frankly, you’d rather die.

     It takes a moment or two of you unceremoniously shaking on the beanbag chair before your hear Mingi curse under his breath; before you know it, the poster you’re holding is snatched out of your hands.

     “Oi!” you hiss. Before you can continue your retort, though, you feel his chest press against your back, and he mutters a quiet “Shut up,” in your ear. You watch as he sticks the poster on the wall with ease (when did he get this close to you, again?) before he backs up. 

“You should’ve just asked me to do it, idiot.”

You barely hear him, your heartbeat drumming so loud in your chest that your body feels like a boombox. Ugh. I’m down bad, you think. You know you’re not the best at masking how you feel around the taller boy, but you hope to God that he can’t hear your heart pounding.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a finger jab you gently on the arm. “Oi,” he says, a little softer than before. “You alright?”

You blink a couple of times before you comprehend what he says.

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, a little too shakily to look or sound legit. “I just…Uh…The chair made me a little nervous, that’s all.” You step off of the worn thing, staring up at him.

His lips quirk up into a cute little smirk at that, and he kicks at the beanbag like he’s disgusted by it. “You gotta throw this thing out. I’m surprised it didn’t fall apart as soon as you stepped on it.”

“It’s sentimental!” you protest, trying to ignore the way he looks at you all concerned-like. “I think I’ll break before it does.”

Before you know it, Mingi’s pulling you into his chest, warm from laying on your bed for hours. His hoodie-clad arms encircle your shorter form.

“Nah,” he mumbles, his voice right by your ear. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Shit, you think, more color flooding to your cheeks. I’m really down bad. Screw you, Song Mingi. 

[lauraneedstochill]

I feel like I’m the only one who wasn’t heartbroken or upset with the ending. however bittersweet it might be, to me it just adds to the realism and the complexity of the story, and I loved everything about it!

it would’ve been very easy to paint Aegon as some degenerate so thank you for not doing that and instead showing that she’s not pressured into a relationship with him and actually has feelings for that loser boy — her loving his grumpy face and believing he wasn’t a “waste of space” made me so happy 🥺 (and on a little side note, “Aegon’s family maintained a dynamic that was strained at best and volatile at worst” — so concise and a perfectly fitting description, I loved it!)

I feel for Aemond, I really do, and I respect him for loving her in silence and not trying to mess things up for them. but I believe you can’t truly love someone without knowing them fully, and even though he’s clearly paying attention and trying to learn more about her, he gets only brief moments every year. so it’s like he’s actually in love with the image of her he built out of little pieces, no matter how true his insights are.

their relationship reminded me of the storyline in “Love, Actually” (and I see that I’m not the only one who thought about that movie ;). so I’d like to believe that eventually Aemond will find someone he can actually be with and loved by, as he deserves. 💙

P.S. I will admit though, my heart did break a little at the end:

“She found herself squeezing back, committing to memory how his palm sculpted to her own, his fingers covering hers.”

Heart Without a Home

Pairing: Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x f!reader, Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader Warnings: Angst, emotional infidelity. Word count: ~9k

Summary: Her and Aegon have been an item for three years, and she couldn't be happier, though she has grown to dread special occasions spent with his overbearing family, particularly his moody younger brother. A Christmas week with the Targtowers gets to the root of all of the ill feeling.

Author's note: Day twelve of Smuffmas - home videos and voyeurism. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

The dull morning light of late December winter filtered through the curtains that they never remembered to close, the room silent save for the sounds of their quiet breathing. Aegon laid naked in her bed, sprawled on his front across her body, his head rested upon her bare chest with his eyes closed as she cradled him. Her fingertips gently massaged his scalp in soothing circles. She could feel from the oil within the roots that he was a few days past the need for his hair to be washed. Ordinarily she wouldn’t care; she loved it when Aegon’s fluffy platinum hair was a little on the dirtier side, it sat flatter to his head and looked less unruly, retaining the scent of peppercorn and bergamot that seemed to cling to him, that she had grown to love.

Yet she knew she would have to tell him to wash it, if only to save him from the disapproving comments from the woman from whom he had inherited his wild mop of curls, though hers were a vibrant auburn. It was Christmas Eve, and they were due to travel back to Aegon’s family home for three days; the shortest possible amount of time that his mother, Alicent, would allow and the longest that he would agree to. His younger siblings, Aemond and Helaena, usually always arrived the day before and stayed right through until New Year’s Day. That would have felt like a prison sentence to Aegon, so a compromise had been settled upon, and she intended to ensure it was as painless for him as it possibly could be. That included pre-empting his mother’s criticism of his hygiene and encouraging him to wash his hair.

“Come on, sleeping beauty,” she urged softly, shifting slightly beneath him as she stroked her hands down his back, “you need to jump in the shower.”

“Mmmm…don’t want to,” he groused sleepily, clinging tighter to her, nuzzling further into her body.

She chuckled, attempting to push the dead weight of him from her but failed miserably. “We have to leave soon. If we aren’t there by lunchtime then we’ll never hear the end of it from your mum.”

“Oh, god forbid we aren’t there for her horrible smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels,” he bemoaned, rising slowly up on his elbows to look at her, his brow furrowed in an expression that she was sure was intended to convey his annoyance, but just appeared adorably tired and grumpy to her. God, how she loved that face.

“But,” she countered, tapping his nose lightly with her index finger, “you get to be warm under all that nice, hot water while muggins here has to coax your dopey mutt outside in the freezing cold and try to convince him to go for a piss. I’d say you’ve got the better end of the deal.”

Aegon smirked, rolling off of her and onto his own side of the bed, nearest the wall, where Sunfyre’s bed was. He peered over the edge, watching as the large golden retriever laid on his back, all four paws in the air, snoring quietly. “You know, if you and the hound wanted to head back for a few days, I’d be happy to stay here,” Aegon muttered quietly, giving Sunfyre’s paw a playful shake, which caused the dog’s eyes to open, his tail wagging enthusiastically as he saw who loomed above him.

She rolled her eyes, disentangling herself from the sheets and rising from the bed, beginning to rummage through her chest of drawers for something suitable to wear to take the dog outside in. “Very funny. Shower. Now.”

“Ugh, fine,” Aegon huffed, pulling himself from the mattress. He paused, still utterly naked as he stood in the doorway. “Will you at least have a bacon sandwich ready for me when I’m finished?”

She turned to him, a black hoodie clutched in her hands, and tilted her head, her tone one of mock confusion. “And spoil your appetite for your mum’s lovely smoked salmon?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he grinned before heading across the hallway and into the bathroom.

She laughed, turning her attention back to getting dressed. 

Aegon’s playfulness had been what had first drawn her to him when they had met three years prior. There was a shitty, little live music venue that she frequented most weekends – The Blue Pearl – the sort of place that’s dingy, smelly, with damp in the walls, and toilets that are always blocked, yet somehow the bar still feels justified in charging the better part of six pounds for a pint that’s more line cleaner than it is beer. The night they had met there had been a local indie band playing there, which had drawn a crowd of less than twenty people. Aegon had burst through the doors, already half drunk, with three friends in tow and offered to buy drinks for every person in the place. That was how she knew he was different – nobody could afford to do that – this was the sort of place where if you were going to buy a drink from the bar, it would likely be a coke that you’d then add the vodka to that you’d snuck in inside a hip flask. His thousand watt smile had charmed her and, at the end of the night, when he’d insisted that he couldn’t possibly leave without a kiss and her phone number, she had known she was in trouble.

In the beginning, things hadn’t been that serious. Aegon was a party boy, and she knew she wasn’t the only girl he was seeing. She didn’t mind, and was happy to keep things casual, because he was fun to spend time with. But as time had passed, and feelings developed, she found herself the sole recipient of his affection and, therefore, was pulled deeper into his world, able to understand the full extent of the wealth he was born into and the trauma that that brought with it. Aegon rebelled against the status of his family, choosing to live in a rented house share with his friends, Martyn, Leon and Ed. The few times she had visited she had been disgusted by the squalor the four men had allowed the house to fall into. Once, Leon had bought everyone in the house a Cadbury’s Creme Egg as an Easter gift and Martyn had accidentally sat on his and squashed it into the sofa cushions. She had been horrified to find it still there when she’d visited again a few weeks later. There was also the crusty, old assortment of boxers and socks that covered the surface of the white, plastic picnic table that stood in the back garden; Ed had laid them out there to dry one sunny summer’s day, having done a rare load of laundry, and then just never bothered to bring them back inside. They were still there by Halloween.

She had been pleased when Aegon and Sunfyre had begun spending more and more time at her place, not just because it meant she didn’t have to endure the hovel that they lived in, but because the two of them made her cosy, little flat feel like a home. Now, she and Aegon basically lived together in all but name. He only ever returned to his place when he needed clean clothes or to cool off if they had argued.

Aside from coming from old money and, therefore, leading a lifestyle that was so extravagant it made her uneasy, Aegon’s family maintained a dynamic that was strained at best and volatile at worst. Thankfully, Aegon kept his visits limited to special occasions only, meaning they only spent time with the family for birthdays and Christmases. His mother was an anxious woman and, though it was clear she loved her children dearly, she was often overbearing, not knowing how to properly express her care for them all, so it often came across as needless fussing and nagging. Their father had passed away, and Alicent had remarried to a man named Criston. He was harmless enough, though so broodingly quiet that she went out of her way to avoid being left alone with him. Otto, their grandfather and Alicent’s father, was a stern man who reserved the harshest of his criticisms for Aegon. He disapproved of his decision not to join the family’s investment banking firm, regularly reminding his grandson that there was no stability in the events marketing startup that he had founded with his father’s inheritance money. Aegon’s brother, Aemond, was indifferent to the point of being cold, he offered little in the way of conversation, only speaking when spoken to, and seemed content enough to keep to himself. Besides Aegon, Helaena was her favourite of all the family. She wasn’t particularly warm, but her nature was gentle and if you engaged with her regarding a topic she found interesting, she would animate in a way that made her features light up as she talked excitedly.

Their father had a daughter, Rhaenyra, from a previous marriage. Though she had never met her, and she was never present at any of the gatherings she attended, her influence hung over them all like a shadow, creating contention and bitter resentment. Aegon liked a drink, but she hated how paralytic he allowed himself to become when visiting his family. A means to cope with the ill feeling, a way to make the time pass quicker, perhaps both, she couldn’t tell, but seeing him in that state broke her heart. He was damaging himself, but also reaffirming his family’s opinion that he was a waste of space. She knew he was anything but.

They just had to get through tonight and then Christmas Day, and then they’d be driving back home again by Boxing Day lunchtime. And if there was nothing else to look forward to, at least she could console herself with the abundance of gifts. Alicent always ensured that each of them had a huge pile to open. Hers were always fairly generic; high end skincare, an expensive bottle of bubbly, artisanal chocolates and designer label accessories, but each year there was also one that was so personal, so thoughtful, that it made her feel guilty for ever hesitating to come in the first place. The first year she had spent Christmas with them all, she had received a platinum bracelet inlaid with glittering sapphires, and last year she had been given a first edition of her favourite book, signed by the author. As dysfunctional as the Targaryens were, they were insanely generous to those closest to them.

***

The tyres of her little Fiat 500 crunched over the gravel of the driveway leading up to the property,  the lengthy track was flanked by rows of perfectly sculpted hedges, beyond which sat acres of immaculately manicured lawn on either side. The drive from the gates at the roadside all the way to the house felt almost as long as the journey from her flat. 

“Got enough petrol to make it up the drive?” Aegon asked, casting her a smirk from where he sat in the passenger seat, fingers drumming restlessly upon his knees.

“You make that joke every time we visit,” she sighed, turning the steering wheel to maneuver the vehicle as the gravel track curved around the large, circular fountain that stood at the front of the massive house.

“And I’ll keep making it until it gets a laugh out of you,” he quipped, turning to unclip his seatbelt.

Ordinarily, his earnest intent to make her smile would have made her heart melt, however, this time the sentiment fell upon deaf ears. She stiffened as the familiar feeling of inadequacy settled upon her like a stone as the faded red brick building, encased in trailing ivy leaves, came into view. As she had predicted, everyone was there already; outside was Alicent’s sleek, forest green Mercedes AMG GT, with Otto’s Rolls Royce Phantom and Criston’s Porsche Cayenne parallel parked at either end. She drove around to where Helaena’s sky blue VW Beetle was situated, with Aemond’s Triumph chopper propped precariously behind it, and pulled to a stop in front. It was the least intimidating of all the vehicles present, so she felt more comfortable leaving her beaten up little car there.

She turned the engine off and, as though sensing her discomfort, Aegon’s hand grabbed hers, intercepting her as she reached to unfasten her seatbelt.

“It’s just three days and two nights,” he reassured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “we’ve got this.”

No sooner were they out of the car and unloading Sunfyre and the bags from their respective places on the back seat and the boot, than Alicent was hurrying from the house, her long auburn curls flowing behind her.

“We were starting to think you weren’t coming,” she said, kissing them both on their cheeks in greeting. She paused, looking intently at Aegon as her hands smoothed his hair, before calling over her shoulder to her husband, who was already making his way towards them. “Criston, fetch the bags!”

“Hello, you two,” he greeted softly, divesting them of their luggage, “safe journey?”

Sunfyre’s excited bark came in place of an answer. The large, golden dog bounded across the drive and into the house, wagging his tail.

“Oh god,” Alicent said, frowning in concern, “I don’t think Aemond has locked Vhagar away.”

“Right then, shall we?” Criston asked with a raise of his eyebrows, as Alicent chased after the golden retriever.

Once inside, she caught a quick glimpse of a fluffy, black cat racing up the grand, wooden staircase in the foyer, with Sunfyre in hot pursuit.

“I’ll take these to your room,” Criston gestured with their bags, following the same way the animals had gone.

“Shouldn’t we go and get the dog back?” she asked, turning to Aegon.

He shrugged. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. If Aemond didn’t want Vhagar used as a chew toy, then he’d have kept her shut away.”

Placing a hand at the small of her back, he moved her further into the house. No matter how many times she visited she would never stop being awed by the sheer opulence of it. The floors were polished hardwood, a dark mahogany hue that matched the panelling of the walls, which stopped three quarters of the way up to make way for dark bottle green paint and brass sconces. Alicent had decorated for Christmas, in an understated and tasteful manner as always. A garland wrapped around the bannister of the stairs, complete with crimson bows, and sprigs of holly had been hung from each fixture on the wall.

“I couldn’t find the cat, but I’m sure Aemond will sort her out,” Alicent announced, appearing from the kitchen with an open bottle of champagne in her hand, “we’re just through here.”

She ushered them through to the dining room. A large, oval table sat in the centre of the room, draped in a green and gold table cloth, with candles in the middle and places set for seven people. A spread of bagels, cream cheese and smoked salmon was plated and ready for serving. The head of the table nearest the fireplace set into the far wall had been left empty as always, a mark of respect for Viserys, the deceased patriarch of the family.

Otto was seated beside the empty space, with Helaena opposite him. Her large African grey parrot, Dreamfyre, perched upon her shoulder. Helaena was busy tearing pieces off of a bagel and offering them to the bird, watching intently as her large black beak pecked indelicately at them.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that at the table,” Alicent complained, placing the champagne into an ice bucket as Otto rose from his seat to greet his grandson with a clapped hand on the shoulder, and his girlfriend with a chaste kiss on the cheek, before taking his seat again, and gesturing for them to do the same. She sat next to Otto, with Aegon on her other side.

“I’m not keeping her in a cage,” Helaena protested, looking up at her mother with a slight frown as she continued to feed Dreamfyre from her upturned palm. “Vhagar and Sunfyre get to roam freely.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, taking her own chair at the opposite head of the table, next to Aegon. Her fingers automatically moved to straighten her cutlery. “Well, this is the last time any of you bring your wretched beasts with you.”

“You say that every time,” Aemond said quietly, slipping into the room with Criston trailing behind.

“Well, this time I mean it,” she said frustratedly, rubbing her temples.

Aemond sat between Helaena and Criston, which meant he was directly opposite her. It was as though the cloudiness of his left eye somehow intensified the stare of his right, and she squirmed beneath the intensity of his piercing blue gaze, suddenly grateful when Criston reached across to offer her a flute of champagne, giving her an excuse to look away.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if Aegon would keep that fucking mutt of his under control,” Aemond snapped, shooting an accusatory glance towards his brother.

“Enough,” Alicent commanded, forking a slice of salmon onto Criston’s empty plate, “have you and Helaena even bothered to greet either of them yet?”

“Hello,” Helaena offered with a soft smile, “when did you get here?”

“Literally just arrived,” she replied, giving a quiet thanks to Aegon as he passed the salmon plate to her.

“That’s nice,” Helaena nodded.

“Not the word I’d use,” Aegon muttered under his breath, earning himself a stern look from Alicent.

She served herself, before passing the plate to Otto. He paused as Helaena held her hand out, refusing his attempt to dish out food for her.

“I’m vegetarian, Grandad, remember?”

Otto bristled, eyes moving from the salmon and then back to his granddaughter. “Oh…right. Well, I’m sure your mother can find you some ham in the kitchen.”

“Can’t eat that either,” she said apologetically as he sighed in exasperation. She finally relieved him of the serving platter and passed it to Aemond, who promptly set it back in the centre of the table.

“Are you not eating?” Alicent asked, leaning forward to look at him with large, imploring eyes.

“Had a protein shake after my run,” he explained curtly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right,” Alicent responded, her tone clipped with annoyance. She raised her glass in mock toast, “merry Christmas, everyone,” then took a swig before setting it heavily back upon the tabletop and beginning to spread cream cheese across a bagel in hurried, angry movements.

“Maybe you could set some salmon aside for Vhagar?” she suggested to Aemond with a slight smile, attempting to ease the tension.

“It’s smoked, it’s bad for her,” Aemond replied irritably, causing her to shrink once again under the weight of his scrutinising stare.

Looking to her side, dread formed like a stone in her stomach as she watched Aegon drain his flute of champagne – doubtless, the first of many. The rest of the meal passed in tense silence, until they were finally all excused. 

The rest of the evening was awkward and uncomfortable, as Criston and Alicent busied themselves in the kitchen with meal preparation for Christmas dinner the next day, Aemond disappeared upstairs to his room, and Otto engaged Helaena in a game of Jenga that she seemed to be more interested in encouraging Dreamfyre to perch upon than actually play. That just left her with Aegon, and ordinarily she would love that, except for the fact that he had polished off most of bottle of champagne to himself at lunch, and had since demolished a bottle of red wine, so was now barely lucid as he sat next to her on the plush sofa, leaving her to watch Home Alone on the plasma screen TV by herself.

As the evening wore on, and everyone in the house slowly started making their way to bed, she decided it would probably be a good idea to attempt to relocate Aegon to his own room, instead of leaving him on the sofa where he was currently sprawled with his mouth open. 

She leaned over him, gently shaking him. “Come on, Aeg, let’s go upstairs.”

He groaned softly in his sleep but didn’t move or wake up. She sighed in frustration, tucking her arm around him and attempting to lift him. His dead weight was too much for her and he flopped heavily back against the cushions after she’d only managed to raise his torso by a few inches.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she hissed in annoyance, raking a hand through her hair.

“Problem?” Aemond’s voice asked softly from behind her.

She turned, seeing Aemond holding an unlit cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other, clearly on his way through the living room to the French doors that opened out onto the patio of the back garden.

“He’s passed out and I can’t lift him,” she responded, her voice tired and resigned.

“Of course he is,” Aemond muttered with a roll of his eye. He pocketed his lighter and slipped his cigarette behind his ear, before moving towards the sofa. “Here, let me.”

She watched as Aemond crouched, tugged Aegon by his armpits into a seated position, and then hoisted him over his shoulder – his older brother's torso hung ragdoll down his back, while his legs draped across his front.

“Where do you want him?” he asked, his usually measured voice slightly strained under the weight of Aegon.

“Just in his room, need to put him to bed.”

She followed behind Aemond as he walked slowly through the living room, down the hallway and then up the stairs. It felt awkward to walk behind him in silence, but she supposed if there were ever a time for the pair of them to have their first proper conversation then it wouldn’t be when he was carrying her blind drunk boyfriend to bed.

Walking down the landing, he stopped at the third door on the left, gently pushed the door open with his foot before flicking the light on, then unceremoniously dumped Aegon onto the bed. His body bounced slightly as the mattress dipped and then righted with the force, but he remained fast asleep.

She looked around the room, seeing how neatly their bags had been left at the end of the bed. It was a shrine to Aegon’s adolescence; Blink 182 and glamour model posters were plastered across the walls, while lads’ mags and old beer mats were strewn across every surface. There was a framed photo that sat upon the bedside table, of a teenage Aegon grinning from ear to ear as he held Sunfyre as a puppy. Her gaze fell upon the dog bed in the corner, where he was sleeping.

“Shit, I forgot to take him outside for a piss before bed…”

“I’ll do it,” Aemond offered, leaning against the doorframe, “I was going out for a smoke anyway.”

“Thank you,” she smiled softly, turning back to face him as he whistled to get Sunfyre’s attention.

The dog stretched slowly out of his bed, his tail wagging lazily as he padded towards Aemond. “You know, you could use this as your get out of jail free card,” Aemond told her, his hand absentmindedly ruffling the dog’s ears.

“What do you mean?”

“Leave. While he’s still passed out. No one would blame you.”

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head. “I’m not ditching Aegon just because he’s had a bit too much to drink.”

Aemond eyed her appraisingly for a moment, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hm. Lucky Aegon.” He turned away, patting his thigh as he walked, calling out to Sunfyre, “come, hound!”

She laid there feeling restless and irritated for ten minutes; Aegon’s snores made it impossible to even entertain the idea of falling asleep. She climbed out of bed, pulling the curtain back a fraction as she watched Sunfyre amble around the lawn of the back garden, illuminated by the security floodlight, cocking his leg against Alicent’s rose bushes.

As her gaze fell upon the patio she made eye contact with Aemond, his face turned up towards the window as smoke rose in a delicate spiral from the lit end of the cigarette he held between two fingers. She hadn’t expected him to be watching her and the sight made her heart skip a beat, a shocked gasp escaping her as she let go of the curtain, allowing it to fall closed again.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered to herself as she climbed back into bed, waiting for her pulse to stop racing in panic, “I hate it here.”

***

“Are there any coconut ones?” Helaena asked, kneeling on the carpet in front of where Aegon sat on the sofa, pawing through a tin of Quality Street.

“Disgusting choice, and all yours,” he responded, plucking out a few of the blue foil wrapped chocolates and dropping them into her upturned palms.

Helaena smiled happily, turning away and crossing her legs as she began to unwrap one of them.

It was Christmas morning, and Aegon had woken up surprisingly early and blissfully hangover free. She attributed it to how early in the evening he had passed out, though she didn’t feel so fresh herself, having been kept awake half the night by his snoring and her own anxiety over her encounter with Aemond.

He had said nothing to her that morning, simply sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the news on his iPad. Aegon was not so serene, he had dragged Helaena out of bed and insisted she show him where their mother had hidden the Christmas chocolates.

“Oh, horrible children!” Alicent scolded, knotting her dressing gown at the waist as she entered the lounge and caught sight of the half empty tin of sweets. “What about breakfast?”

“It’s alright, Mum, I’ve got that covered. Here,” he plucked a Green Triangle from the container and carelessly sent it sailing towards her.

Criston stepped from behind her, reaching up and plucking it from the air before it could make contact with her temple.

“Unbelievable,” Alicent said in annoyance, throwing up her hands in resignation, “I don’t know why I bother.”

She looked guiltily at the pile of empty wrappers in her lap, then at Aegon, as Alicent stomped away with Criston in tow. “Maybe we should put them away.”

“Why would she buy them if she didn’t want us to eat them?” he argued, unwrapping a caramel swirl. “They aren’t just there for us to admire.”

“You aren’t supposed to sit and eat them all to yourself either, you greedy little shit,” Otto glowered, stepping into the doorway.

“Not to worry, grandad,” Aegon grinned, “I’ve got a toffee penny here with your name on it.”

“If you even think about throwing a chocolate at me, my boy, I will make sure you live to regret it.”

Helaena whipped around, wide eyed, and snatched the tin from Aegon, placing it on the carpet before slamming the lid back on. “We shouldn’t have these out if they’re going to upset people.”

“Good,” Otto conceded with a nod, “I trust the three of you plan on changing out of your pyjamas at some point today?”

“Would it be okay if I jumped in the shower?” she asked sheepishly, embarrassed to ask as she tried to ball up the sweet wrappers in her lap as discreetly as possible.

“There are four bathrooms in the house, dear, you don’t need to ask,” Otto responded with a curt nod, before ducking back out of the room.

She raked her hands through her hair, her mind feeling foggy with fatigue and her insides churning with a combination of too much early morning chocolate and dense unease. Aegon gripped her arm gently as she rose from the sofa, and she paused, turning to look at him.

“You’re in a mood.”

It was a statement, not a question. Aegon knew her too well, of course she was, but what was she supposed to say?

You got so fucking drunk last night that you passed out and basically left me alone on Christmas Eve, then kept me awake all night with your snoring.

Despite knowing what a tense situation this is, you’re not making it any better for yourself or anyone else by deliberately going out of your way to be antagonistic.

She said neither of those things. Now wasn’t the time to reprimand him or start an unnecessary argument; there’d be enough of those today. 

“Just tired, missing our bed,” she replied quietly, offering him a small smile of reassurance.

“Course you are,” he grinned, releasing her arm with a wink, “I’ll make sure to tire you out properly tonight.”

Helaena made a noise of disgust, clapping her hands over her ears, and she used that as her excuse to leave the living room, and head upstairs to one of the bathrooms.

Just today to get through, then we can go home tomorrow, she thought as she sat on the edge of Aegon’s bed, wrapped in a towel, skin still damp from the shower.

She had left the door ajar, and as it creaked open she expected to see Aegon walk through. She jumped slightly as Aemond appeared in the doorway instead.

His seeing eye widened momentarily, before he cast his gaze towards his feet. “Fuck, sorry, door wasn’t closed, so I thought–”

“Aegon’s downstairs, if you’re looking for him,” she interrupted, not wanting to suffer through any further awkward apologies.

“I was looking for you, actually,” he replied, his eye darting quickly away again as it landed upon her once more. “Mum wants to do presents, and I was coming upstairs to grab this anyway—” he lifted his silver camcorder in explanation, “so she asked me to get you.”

She was grateful that they had both seemingly reached a silent agreement not to address the accidental eye contact through the window from the night before – the more she thought about it, the more she realised there wasn’t really anything to talk about anyway.

“Be there in a minute,” she said.

He nodded, stepping out of the room and closing the door fully behind him.

Every time she visited, Aemond had his video camera out at some point. Alicent had gushed to her once about all of the videos he had captured over the years of special occasions, how talented he was at framing shots perfectly and then editing the footage into something that captured the mood of those precious memories. In the three years she had been a part of their lives, she had seen him filming plenty of times but never actually gotten to see the finished product.

Once dressed and back downstairs, everyone was already gathered in the living room, It’s a Wonderful Life playing quietly on the TV. Otto sat in the armchair, while Helaena sat crossed legged at his feet, with Dreamfyre perched upon her shoulder. On the sofa on one side of the coffee table, Criston and Aemond sat at opposite ends, Criston slowly sipping a coffee while Aemond fiddled with his camcorder. Aegon reclined with his feet up, stretched out across the sofa on the other side, a hand lolling down onto the floor, absentmindedly stroking Sunfyre. Alicent knelt beside the huge Norwegian fir tree in the far corner of the room, its red and gold ornaments twinkling as she sorted gifts into piles.

She patted Aegon’s legs gently, and he lifted them enough for her to sit before resting them across her lap.

“Aegon…” she began, quietly enough for only him to hear.

“Mmm?” he jutted his chin upwards slightly, regarding her with a gentle raise of his eyebrows.

“You know Aemond’s video camera?” she ventured, plucking invisible fluff from the leg of his jogging bottoms.

“What about it?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Why don’t we ever see the videos he makes?”

“We do.”

She shook her head, keeping her tone hushed. “I never have.”

Aegon shrugged dismissively. “I guess not, but why does it matter? We don’t need to watch them, we were there, we know what happened.”

It wasn’t enough to sate her curiosity, but before she had the opportunity to press the issue further, Alicent ushered them over to the tree to grab their respective gifts.

Her and Aegon had exchanged presents at her flat the day before Christmas Eve, a means to preserve a piece of the festive period that was just for them, but also to ensure that the significance of their gifts for each other weren’t lost in the overwhelming abundance that his mother delivered on Christmas morning.

It was strange to her that everyone tore into their pile at the same time, rather than taking turns so everyone could see what everyone else had gotten, but as she watched Alicent perching on the arm of the sofa next to Criston, looking on with a soft smile as her children unwrapped their presents, she could understand why it was this way. Amidst the buzz of the sounds of tearing paper and gushing thank yous, it was the closest she had ever seen the family come to genuine happiness.

Alicent had gone way overboard for her as usual. She unwrapped Chanel No.5 perfume, a cashmere jumper, an Elemis skincare gift set and a pair of white gold hoop earrings. It was a large, flat present that piqued her curiosity the most though; it was heavy and solid, and as she pulled the wrapping paper away it took a moment for her to understand properly what it was; a map of the exact layout of the constellations in the sky on the day of her birth. Her lips parted slightly as she stared at it in awe, trailing her fingertips down the coolness of its smooth surface. Upon closer inspection, she could see that it was made of marble; a thin indigo slab which represented the night sky, with gold inlay mapping out the constellations. Tiny diamonds sparkled at each appropriate juncture, serving as the stars. Her breath caught in her throat, tears welling in her eyes at the thoughtful gesture.

It felt almost too personal, too intimate to be a gift from her boyfriend’s mother, and she wondered if perhaps Aegon had snuck another gift here for her. She patted at his leg gently, discreetly trying to get his attention as he was busy tugging the cap off a bottle of aftershave and giving it a sniff.

She turned the plaque towards him, tilting her head in silent question, but he simply shrugged, his bottom lip protruding slightly as he slightly shook his head to feign ignorance before turning his attention back to his own gifts.

“Wow…thank you, Alicent.” she said, looking across the room to where Alicent was sitting, watching as Helaena encouraged Dreamfyre to tear open a present with her beak.

“Oh, you’re welcome, love,” she replied, glancing up quickly with a bright smile, “I’m glad you like them.” Her attention then immediately went back to Helaena.

At Alicent’s quick dismissal, she looked around the room, everyone was preoccupied with their gifts or someone else’s, except for Aemond, who was filming – she hadn’t even noticed him start.

As the morning bled into early afternoon, Otto dozed in the armchair, while Helaena helped Criston and Alicent to cook Christmas lunch. The majority of her gifts had been put away upstairs, except for the plaque. She sat admiring it, unable to believe how beautiful it was, while Aegon sprawled out on the sofa, drinking Buck’s Fizz, with Sunfyre snoozing on his legs.

“I’m bored,” Aegon complained, causing her to look up from where she was sitting cross legged on the floor.

“Put something on the TV then.”

He wrinkled his nose, clearly unhappy with the suggestion. “There’s not anything good on. I think Aemond brought his Switch, we could play Mario Kart?”

“Guess you’ll have to ask him.”

“He’s always ages when he’s having a fag, just go and grab it from his room, he won’t mind.”

“You go and get it,” she retorted defensively, horrified by the idea as her voice raised an octave, “I’m not letting myself into your brother’s room and taking his belongings.”

“But look how sleepy Sunfyre is,” Aegon said, pouting his lip, “would you really be so cruel and make him move?”

“You’re so fucking lazy!” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Aegon laughed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Seriously, Aemond won’t care. But if he comes back in before you’re back down here, I’ll tell him what you’re doing, so he knows it was my idea. Sound good?”

She sighed, knowing he wouldn’t drop it until he got his way. She didn’t have the patience to listen to him pester her until Aemond came back inside, so she rose to her feet, placing her plaque on the coffee table as she stood. “So fucking lazy,” she muttered with a shake of her head as she left the room.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she climbed the stairs. She’d never been in Aemond’s bedroom before – she supposed it wasn’t really his room anymore, just the place he slept when he visited, but it was still his space and the idea of intruding upon it made her incredibly uncomfortable.

She paused as she reached his door, her hand hovering over the door handle, before drawing in a steadying breath and pushing it open.

The space was more orderly than Aegon’s was. One wall was simply book shelves, filled with rows and rows of hardbacks, there was a Deftones and a Tool poster stuck neatly upon the other walls, and Aemond’s computer desk and chair were tucked away in the far corner. At the centre of the room was Aemond’s neatly made bed. Vhagar lay curled up in the middle of the duvet. The fluffy black cat’s amber eyes cracked open to look at her inquisitively as she stood looking around the room, trying to figure out where Aemond would have put his Switch.

Bloody Aegon, she thought, until her eyes fell back upon the computer desk. Aemond’s camcorder sat upon the desktop, plugged into his open laptop. The case for his Switch lay next to it.

She walked over to the desk, fully intending to simply grab the Switch and then go straight back downstairs, but as she moved closer, the sight of her own face on the laptop screen captured her attention. It was a thumbnail of the video that Aemond had taken that morning within an open folder of multiple video files. She knew she shouldn’t snoop, it wasn’t her business, but seeing such a close up shot of herself made the urge to click irresistible.

The video started with a slow pan around the room, Alicent watching on as everyone else opened gifts. It lingered on Aegon for a moment, zooming in as he unknowingly leaned his face back at an unflattering angle, creating a double chin – she laughed at seeing this – then the shot moved to her, zooming out to capture her unwrapping the plaque, then zooming back in on her face, capturing her eyes welling up and the touched smile that tugged at her lips. The shot remained on her until the video eventually cut to black.

Her brow furrowed, a mixture of confusion and bewilderment stirring within her. Why was nearly the entire video of her? If Aemond was intending to create videos of happy family memories, then why focus solely on his brother’s girlfriend and not the people he was actually related to?

Unable to stop herself, she closed out of the video and clicked onto the next. This was one from back in the late summer, when Alicent had hosted a barbecue for Criston’s birthday. The camera panned around the back garden, with a brief zoom in of the meat sizzling on the grill, before zooming out again. When the camera fell upon her, it lingered, a full body shot at first, before gradually moving in upon her face, catching each sip of her drink, every time she touched her hair, or laughed.

“You looked beautiful that day.”

“FUCK!” she yelped, jumping as she turned wide eyed with fright to see Aemond standing behind her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said calmly, “but you are in my room after all.”

She watched in disbelief at how unbothered he was as he moved to sit on the bed, ruffling a hand through Vhagar’s fur. The cat chirruped happily, the noise an obscenely cute contrast to the clawing dread in the pit of her stomach and the wild pounding of her heart against her ribcage. An acrid taste filled her mouth, sour and unpleasant, as she struggled to get the words out, wanting to understand why he’d been filming her.

“What the fuck?!” was all she was able to choke out.

“It’s not anything perverted, don’t worry,” he reassured her.

That was what worried her. She knew Aemond wasn’t being a creep, the videos hadn’t lingered on her breasts or anywhere that wasn’t her face. It would be easy to deal with, easier to shrug off if she could just explain it away as Aegon’s younger brother being a pervert, but this seemed like something deeper than that, and that scared her. 

“Are…are they all like that?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling.

“All the ones since I met you, yeah,” he admitted.

“Jesus christ,” she whispered, putting her head in her hands. A dozen different questions raced through her mind, none of them she was certain she wanted the honest answer to. She wanted to be out of this room, away from Aemond, to forget what she’d seen and everything he’d told her.

“I know how it must seem, but–”

“I don’t care how it seems, I don’t want to hear it,” she cried, grabbing the Switch case and bolting from his room. She took the stairs two at a time, her face burning hot and a lump forming rapidly in her throat.

Alicent and Criston had made a tremendous effort for Christmas lunch; an enormous turkey sat in the centre of the dining table, alongside a nut roast for Helaena, with side dishes of roasted chestnuts, potatoes, brussels sprouts, stuffing, carrots, gravy and cranberry sauce all in abundance.

Despite how delicious it all looked, she couldn’t begin to fathom eating any of it. Her stomach churned, she felt shaky and nauseated, her mind unable to focus on anything besides the videos she’d seen on Aemond’s laptop. The calmness of his reaction had unnerved her. Regardless of her lack of appetite, she kept her focus fixed upon her plate, determined not to look up and see him as he sat opposite her. She poked aimlessly at a carrot, pushing it around on her plate.

“You okay?” Aegon whispered, leaning across to her, “You’ve not eaten anything.”

“Oh no, do you not like the food?” Alicent asked with concern, having overheard.

She raised her head, immediately feeling guilty as she saw her mother in law’s brow furrowed in worry. The last thing she wanted to do was insult her cooking when she’d gone to all this effort.

“It’s lovely,” she said, forcing a polite smile, “just feeling a bit hot. I might pop out for some fresh air before I finish my plate.”

“I can make you something else, if you’d prefer?” Alicent offered.

She hated the silence that had fallen around the table, hated the eyes she could feel upon her.

“Really, this is delicious,” she reassured, slowly rising from her seat, “just need some air.”

She gently brushed off Aegon’s hand as he reached for her, offering him a tight smile as he looked up at her with a puzzled look upon his face. “Back in a sec.”

The cold air against her skin felt like the prick of a thousand tiny needles as she stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself. She huffed out a shaky breath, sending a plume of white billowing outwards in front of her. She tried to keep her focus on the rose bushes that framed the perimeter of the lawn, a means to ground herself and draw her focus elsewhere, to anything but Aemond. She wanted to go home. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, of the fact that she had unearthed something that now couldn’t be undone.

Hearing the French doors to the patio open and then close gently from behind her, she sighed, her shoulders sagging as she rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn around. “Honestly, I’m fine, Aegon, just go back inside.”

“It’s not Aegon, it’s me.”

She froze, the sound of Aemond’s voice made her heart lurch, but her initial shock quickly morphed into anger and she whipped around to face him. She watched as he cupped his hand around his lighter, the brief flicker of the flame casting an orange glow over his sharp features as he lit his cigarette.

“You shouldn’t have followed me out here.”

He narrowed his eye, observing her silently as he blew a tight line of smoke out through pursed lips. “Bold of you to assume that. I always have a cigarette after I’ve eaten.”

“If Aegon catches us–”

“If Aegon catches us, then what? What is there to tell him?”

“I don’t know, but something about this feels wrong.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, so there’s nothing to tell him.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ve managed to say nothing for three years,” he replied with a shrug, taking another pull on his cigarette.

“Christ, Aemond, what does that even mean?!” she demanded, losing all patience, as she threw her hands up in irritation.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” he admitted, averting his gaze and exhaling smoke slowly through his nose.

“If it concerns me then I have a right to.” She folded her arms across her chest, staring at him defiantly.

His head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he advanced upon her, causing her to take a step back. “You want to know? Fine. Being around you is fucking torturous.”

“I—I’m sorry…” she stammered, as her heart hammered wildly in her chest, tendrils of fear creeping along her spine.

“No, I am,” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “because I’m so irrevocably, incomprehensibly, driven to the brink of insanity, in love with you that every moment I’m with you I spend cursing my luck that Aegon met you first.”

Her breath hitched, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her lips parted in shock. She stared at him in wide eyed disbelief, as he gazed back in saddened resignation, his cigarette burning to ash between his fingers.

“You can’t…we can’t,” she stammered, “I’m with Aegon, I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to,” he whispered sadly.

“So now what?”she asked, her voice trembling as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“You go back inside,” he replied, reaching up with his free hand to wipe her tear away with the pad of his thumb. The gentle touch made her skin tingle. “And you say nothing, and I continue to love you from afar, just as it’s always been.”

Her feet carried her on autopilot, she felt numb, but paused in the living room to wipe her eyes and compose herself before heading back to the dining room. She grabbed for her wine glass as she took her seat once more, downing its contents in a single gulp and relishing in the way the burn in her throat and chest gave her something else to focus on.

Aegon grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close. “Glad someone’s found their Christmas spirit!”

God, how she wished that were true.

She felt like a spectator in her own body for the rest of the day, going through the motions but not really participating, simply acting on autopilot. She barely registered the arguments over post Christmas lunch board games, for once grateful that Aegon was so plastered he hadn’t noticed how far into herself she’d retreated. She kept stealing glances at Aemond, unable to believe his confession to her in the garden earlier. He was never someone she would ever have considered as a romantic prospect, because he was just so closed off. Now she found herself studying the way his snowy hair fell across his forehead, the sharp angles of his side profile, the gentle curve of his lips. She hated herself for it, as though on some level she was being unfaithful, even though she hadn’t asked for any of this.

Not even Aegon’s snoring was enough to penetrate through her wall of thought as she lay in bed with him that night. Aemond didn’t know her, not really, so he couldn’t love her. It was a silly crush, he’d get over it, and everything would be back to normal the next time they descended upon Alicent’s house for a visit. She kept the reassurance on a loop in her mind, allowing it to lull her into an uneasy sleep.

She didn’t think she had ever been so glad to pack a bag the following morning, as her and Aegon readied themselves to leave. She couldn’t wait to see the back of this place, to forget about all of this and just get back to the cosy life that she and Aegon shared together.

“Gonna have one last hurrah in mum’s rain shower,” Aegon told her, grabbing a pair of socks from his bag and giving them a sniff to make sure they were clean, “see how much of a dent I can put in the hot water before we set off.”

“Alright, but don’t be too long, I wanna get on the road soon.”

“You’re even more desperate to leave than I am,” he said, studying her carefully, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him, stepping towards him and winding her arms around his neck, “just keen to get the drive over with, you know how much I hate it.”

He smiled, giving her a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. “How could you hate it with me as your passenger princess? I’ll think up a playlist while I’m showering.”

She was zipping her bag up, looking around Aegon’s bedroom to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, when there was a gentle knock on the partially open door.

“Come in,” she uttered distractedly, grabbing Sunfyre’s tennis ball from under the bed.

She righted herself, stiffening when she saw it was Aemond. He hovered in the doorway, his posture one of awkward uncertainty as he held the plaque she’d unwrapped the day before in his hands. “You left this on the coffee table downstairs. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget it.”

“Oh, right…thanks,” she said quietly, taking it from him and wrapping it in a jumper before placing it in one of the bags.

“I just wanted to–”

“Listen, I–”

Both of them smiled coyly, before Aemond gestured towards her. “You go.”

She gave a nod, stepping closer to him. “Look, I just wanted to apologise for overreacting yesterday. It’s just a silly crush, and I’m sure with time it’ll fade.”

“Don’t do that,” he said with a frown.

“Do what?”

“Diminish my feelings.”

“I’m not, but you don’t even know me…”

“Did you like my gift?”

“What?”

“The plaque, you seemed quite choked up by it yesterday. And the book the year before that, and the bracelet the year before that.”

“Those were all from you?” she asked, her chest suddenly feeling too tight as her stomach churned with shock and unease.

“Yes, so I’d say I know you rather well. What did Aegon get you?”

“Headphones.”

Aemond cocked an eyebrow. “Very thoughtful.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, mirroring his stern tone from earlier.

He sighed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to mess things up for you guys.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“I just want you to be happy, and if it’s Aegon that makes you happy then I’m content with that. I know my love is wasted, but if you’ll allow it, let’s just carry on as we have been. It seems to have worked for us so far.”

She softened at his words, and he reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She found herself squeezing back, committing to memory how his palm sculpted to her own, his fingers covering hers.

“In another lifetime,” she whispered sadly, drawing back.

“In another lifetime we’d be fucking great together,” he smirked, “until next time.”

She watched as he disappeared from the room, fighting the urge to cry, knowing that Aegon would be out of the shower any minute.

As she settled into the driver’s seat, the car packed up and goodbyes exchanged, Aegon turned to her. “Told you we’d got it,” he said with a proud smile.

Yet as his hand reached for hers, squeezing it in reassurance, she could only think of how different it felt to Aemond’s.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

[chososfl3shlight]

Choso Kamo smut drabble

cw: blowjob, somnophilia, Dubcon, dacryphilia, begging, sub Choso, Dom fem reader

This is like really old, like...7 months old, so...ntm LMFAO this is embarrassing I tried to copy other ppls writing style

You woke up to the beautiful sight of Choso’s side profile as he lay asleep next to you. You smiled as you admired his face, his sharp jawline, his nose that you adored so much and his lips. You listened to the quiet breathing that came from him as well as the sound of the fan being on. You sighed, which transformed into a yawn as tears pricked at your sleepy eyes.

You let your eyes fall on the bright red numbers the alarm clock showed on Choso’s nightstand. It was still fairly early, 5:48 AM. You usually wake up early naturally, and Choso would wake up about an hour or two later. Your hand uncovers from the warm embrace of the blanket, going to graze his soft cheek.

Your eyes intently watching his peaceful sleeping figure. He slept so perfectly, you were kind of jealous you didn't look as gorgeous as him when sleeping. You smiled to yourself before kissing his cheek. You felt your face warm up, thinking about how lucky you were to wake up to such a picture perfect sight.

Your eyelids closing halfway, as you looked at him greedily. His thin lips just begged for a kiss as they were slightly parted. You leaned over, your lips so close to his that you felt his warm breath tickle your lips. He was a heavy sleeper so he wouldn't wake up easily.. you thought to yourself as you closed your eyes and connected your lips.

It started as just a cute and loving peck, before you kept going back for more. His lips were addicting. You felt yourself get drunk from the taste of him, you giggled to yourself unconsciously as he barely even reacted to your touches.

He really isn't waking up from this..

You removed the blanket from on top of him, basically throwing it off him. With the blanket discarded, you shimmied your way between his legs. The truth is you had been fantasizing about this for quite some time. Of waking up your sweet boyfriend to the feeling of pleasure, and the sight of you with his cock in your mouth.

Your mouth drooled at the thought, the thought of him waking up whining and whimpering. Giving him no time to understand what's happening, just immense pleasure. You wanted to give that to him so bad. So with your dirty thoughts in mind, you slowly pulled down his sweats.

You weren't surprised to see he wasn't wearing any undergarments, as he usually didn't wear them to bed. You wasted little time to grab his flaccid cock. Letting spit pool in your mouth before letting it slowly dribble down onto his tip. You gave it a few pumps, letting it slightly harden before you pop the head in your mouth. Your tongue swirling around it as you slowly invited more of him in your warm cavern.

He hit the back of your throat and you realized he began to make soft noises, your eyes flickering up to see his face. It looked softly strained, but he was still asleep. His light pink lips parted more as he let out choked moans. Probably on the edge of waking up, the idea excited you as you continued to suck his cock. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked more aggressively.

His groans became more apparent as his eyes squinted open. He moaned and his eyes rolled back as he writhed in confusion. His Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped harshly, his throat feeling dry.

“Nnnh..huh..” his eyes flickered down and locked with yours. His brows instinctively furrowed as he saw your lips connected to him, a deep guttural moan forced out of him from the sight.

“Babe? Hhhng.. what are you- doing..?” He asked as you stared up with big doe eyes. His face scrunched up as he moaned and your eyes closed with content as you continued to lick the underside of his cock, kissing the sensitive tip. The white tears painted your lips before you went back down.

He felt his insides stir at the overwhelming feelings. His tired mind jumbled and scrambled to form thoughts. You were sucking him dumb as he was trying to keep his mind focused, it was a battle of tug of war and you were winning.

“Oh- wait babe, ‘s too much.. please I'm too tired.. oh fuck”

His voice peaked in pitch as he whined from the pleasure. His fat tip sobbing the creamy liquid onto your warm tongue, and you eagerly licked it all up. He cried out as you continued to suck him for all his worth. His muscles twitched as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

It felt like heavy weights were pulling his eyelids down, but a fire ignited on his face, he couldn't explain why his cheeks felt so warm. His lips quivered as sounds slipped out of them. He didn't know how much pleasure your lips could give him.

But he was quickly feeling overstimulated, his hands flew to your head. He tried to pull you off of him but you were latched to his cock, he let out a moan as he felt the knot in his stomach tightening. The fact that he couldn't pull you off of him, only turned him on more.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease I'm gonna cum, fuck im gonna cum” he chanted as his body began to twitch, tears pooling at his lash line as his head fell back, and his jaw slacked. He looked so cute and pathetic when he cried.

He choked on the moans escaping his hung open jaw as his body shook. You felt his tip stay pressed against the back of your warm throat, as cum bubbled up. Silent cries left his mouth as ropes of warm cum coated the back of your throat.

You coughed and gagged slightly before you pulled him out of your mouth. Swallowing his warm seed as he gasped to recover. You smiled down at him, his eyes cloudy and tired. His breathing quickly reverted back to being controlled, it seemed like he was about to fall right back to sleep.

You scoffed in disbelief as his eyes shut and he seemed peaceful once again.

I can't believe he was that tired.

A loving smile plastered on your face as you laid back down next to him, wrapping an arm and leg around him as your face nuzzled into him. You took a deep breath in, of his scent. Sighing out as you felt your muscles relax, as well as your mind. Falling asleep next to your sleeping beauty boyfriend, with his taste lingering in your mouth.

You honestly wondered how he'd react when he woke up again, completely forgetting the fact that the blanket is discarded somewhere on the floor and that his pants are still down.

[twstfanblog]

Little curious, but what’s Yuu’s genuine reaction to Malleus’s overblot and the first part of chapter seven? Like up to the point they’re still in Lilias dream? Like a lot of people said that it’s basically impossible for Malleus to overblot considering how much magic he has, but it’s legitimately supposed to be ACTUALLY IMPOSSIBLE for Idia considering his curse and he did.

But then comes Lilias withdrawl from school, the going away party, Malleus suddenly appearing with Silver, declaring he has a gift, Ortho yelling about an increase in blot, the students trying to fight Malleus and failing, Malleus’s signature spell, and maybe one of the last things Yuu sees before she are put into a magical sleep, is her date mates overblot before Yuu ‘wakes up’ in a dream

It's kind of funny in and out of context, honestly. Yuu basically crashed out during book 6. Like she was ripping panels and wiring out of shit to force open doors in STYX, home girl was NOT OK.

Book 7 is that X10. Literally Malleus overblots and she screams at him that he doesn't get to do this shit. Yuu's unknowingly and knowingly under a lot of mental strain and Malleus's overblot is just another two tons thrown on top of her. I've vaguely alluded to it and talked about it in private chats with mutuals, but my Yuu DOES have the prophetic dreams. She just doesnt remember them, and thats because Yuu is much more mentally aware in the dream scape.

There's story beat reasons for this. Because I also plan on Malleus trying to trap her in her own dream, but she fully rejects it. While Yuu's home life was far from ideal, she knows what her family was like and loved them anyway, anything different could never be accepted. But in an ideal world where everything is perfect and it's literally made for her happiness, the concept of loving but not LIKING your family isn't something Malleus could recreate properly. Yuu is happier in Twist, but she still holds a lot of fears about her situation and misses certain loved ones from her own world. The only way Yuu could have accepted her dream was a complete memory overhaul since her family trauma started basically when she was gaining long-term memory.

From what we see of the dreams, they're pretty standard 'What If' scenarios, and the characters arent really changed other than thinking one or two events went differently.

Yuu and Malleus will have a private chat in the void because Malleus genuinely does not understand why Yuu wouldn't want this perfected version of her family. Nor the false narrative that she always lived in Twist.

But during Lilia's dream, Yuu's just pushed down her own fears and emotions on the topic of Malleus's overblot and wants this to be OVER already. She is very 'Malleus, I love you, and your feelings are valid, but once this is over, I'm going to beat you to death with a laddle.'

[reallife6anoufriev6boy6]

artkita fluffy smut fic

includes artyom actually being nice for once, handjobs, lots of kissing, finger sucking, etc.

note: i didnt get to read it all the way through and i had to rush it a little bit im sorry.. i hope you enjoy anyway!

“tyoma, tyoma,” nikita whined as artyom pressed himself to him, grinding against him in a hurried, desperate manner “please, please.”

artyom groaned, his erection straining against his jeans and making the perfect tent. he was beyond hard at this point all because of his friend. he never liked to admit it out loud, but he always got him going.

“what, kitja? please what?” he asked, voice rough from the pleasure he was receiving.

“touch me, please,” he responds back breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he bucked his hips up “i want to feel you, tyoma, please.”

he sounded so pathetic when begged like that, but it made artyoms cock twitch in his pants.

“touch you how?” of course though, he always had to ask further. he wants to hear it all from him, know everything he has to say.

nikita opens his mouth to speak, but lets out a moan instead. the incessant grinding and dry humping from the other was making it hard for him to talk at all.

“i want - your fingers in my mouth,” he speaks between breaths and whines “and i want your - your hand on my dick, please.” it was so sweet to hear him say it out loud. he already knew thats what he wanted, but it was better to hear him say it.

artyom pauses his movements “yeah, alright.” he decides to do it, figuring it wouldnt be an awful idea. his hand snakes between the two of them, unbuckling both of their belts before unzipping their jeans.

he pulls nikitas pants and boxers down a little, unsurprised to see his cock fully erect and waiting. it was flushed pink and dripping precum from the tip. the look on his face matched too - his bangs were sticking to his sweaty forehead and his pale cheeks were flushed the same pink. it was adorable.

“youre so hard for me, kitja,” he teased with a grin, pulling his own cock out of his boxers “do you want it that bad?”

his own dick was equally as hard, the tip sticky with precum too. it had smeared on his boxers, so his erection was already covered in it.

nikita stared at him, swallowing hard “yeah, yeah, please,” it was something he had seen plenty of times before, but it wasn’t any less amazing to see each time “youre so - so beautiful, tyoma.”

artyom chuckled softly, leaning in and placing a kiss to the other boys lips. nikita accepted it eagerly and gladly reciprocated. his lips are so soft against nikitas chapped ones that it goes together so well. he parts them, letting the blonde stick his tongue in, which he does.

they stay together like that for a moment, nikitas hand coming up to artyoms neck and resting there - fingers intertwined with his long hair.

they pull away soon enough though, their lips covered in spit. it was gross, really, but they loved it.

he offers him his hand “spit, kitja,” he instructs “be good and spit on my hand.” normally he wouldnt like such disgusting acts, but he would tolerate it this time.

nikita spits on his hand without hesitation, looking at him for praise and validation after the fact. he looked like a little puppy dog.

“good boy, so good.” he purred, reaching his hand down. he takes bother of their cocks in his hand, holding them together. his breath hitched and the other whimpered.

he slowly pulls his hand up and then back down to the bases. it felt better like this, to feel him twitch against him every time he moved his hand in the way he liked.

however, theres something else he wants.

“i know you want something else.” he prompts him to ask for it.

“your fingers. i want your fingers in my mouth.” he replies back, voice shaky.

“why, sweetheart?” he says the petname just to tease him and it does, earning a groan from him.

“i want to… to feel like im sucking your dick.” he says it even quieter then before, clearly embarrassed.

“why dont you just suck it then?” its a fair question, but he already knows the answer.

“because i want to stay like this,” his tone of voice sounds a little more needy, getting antsy for him to do as he asked “please, tyoma.”

artyom would typically deny nikita of what he wanted, outright refuse and tell him to suck it up, but he was feeling kind tonight. he had already treated him with sweetness, so why stop now? he definitely could, but then he wouldnt get what he wanted either.

he offers him two of his fingers without another word, nikita happily takes them in his mouth. it was wet and warm, his tongue felt good against the calloused pads of his fingers.

he runs his tongue along the two given to him, licking the underside and tips of each of them. he had sucked his dick plenty of times to know just how he liked it - he wanted to show him that he knew, hoping hes take notice, and he did.

of course he took notice. he notices everything. it makes his breath hitch and he presses his fingers against his tongue “good job, nikita.” he says his name in the way he likes, listening to him whine and buck up his hips.

he continues to stroke both of their cocks as well with his other hand, going from base to tip. nikita was much more sensitive then him so getting to watch and feel every little twitch and jump was amazing. it added onto how it felt for him too.

itd be a lie if artyom said nikita didnt look beautiful like this. the way he fluttered his eyelashes and whined whenever anything felt particularly good - being so unashamed to buck his hips up into his hand and suck on his fingers like a whore. it was beautiful in its own way and he was enjoying every second of it.

it wasnt often he enjoyed anything like this, but he would let himself have just this one thing. he was never really attracted to his friend, but in times like this he couldnt help it.

nikita starts to really suck on his fingers now, moving his head back and forth as well like he really was sucking on his dick. it makes the blonde groan, quickening the pace of his other hand.

he whimpered, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling his fingers out of his mouth. they were wet and slick with spit, just as he intended. he keeps them right over his lips, placing kisses to them. he really could be so perfect when he cooperated.

he stares right as him as he continued to kiss them. the spit was all over his lips and dripping down his chin, again, just like he had really been sucking his dick.

“youre so good for me,” artyom huffed, twisting his wrist “youre perfect.” it wasnt a compliment he ever gave to him. he would always insult him instead.

his eyes got big for a moment like a cat “really?”he sounds pathetic when he asks, but he seems so happy to hear him say it.

“yeah, so perfect. all for me, no one else.” nikita moaned at that thought, more then happy to only belong to his friend. he wouldnt have it any other way.

“all yours, tyoma. im all yours.” he replies, more precum beading at the tip of his cock. it just went to show how much he liked this.

“yeah? you wouldnt ever let anyone else do this to you?” the notion had an impact on him too. he wouldnt say that, but it was obvious it did.

he shook his head “no - no, i wouldnt. only you. i only want you.” it was the complete and honest truth, there was no one else on this shitty planet that he could want.

artyom groaned, his own erection twitching against the others. there was an odd satisfaction that came with knowing he basically owned nikita. he could make him do whatever he wanted, but he would exercise that power at a later date.

for now, he wanted to finish and watch him do it too, which wouldnt be much longer based on the way his body kept tensing up and ghen relaxing.

“are you gonna finish?” he decided to ask, knowing it would embarrass him.

“yeah, yeah.” he answered, humiliated. he was always quick to cum when he acted so kind and sweet to him. normally it would get him made fun of, but this time it doesnt.

instead, he smiled and pulled his hand away from his mouth, catching his lips in a kiss. for once he didnt care about how gross all the spit on his mouth was and just enjoyed it.

nikita lets go of his wrist and his hair, wrapping his arms over his neck and shoulders. artyom cupped his face using his spit covered hand. it was so disgusting, but it fit them so well.

both of them were pretty close to say the least, but especially nikita. he was starting to become even more of a mess - gripping onto the back of his shirt and constantly bucking his hips up. he wanted it so bad and artyom, for once, wasnt going to deprive him.

he pulls away from the kiss just for a moment, placing his forehead to his while he panted.

“i know you want to,” his own voice was needy, a deep growl in his chest “do it, cum for me, kitja.” it was so possessive and attractive with the way he said it - quiet and low like it was just for him to hear.

thats all it takes for him. he lets out a small cry, moaning his name as he finished all over his hand - painting it in white. it wasnt long until artyom was cumming right alongside him.

it was a grotesque display of their natural behaviors, but neither of them cared. not when it felt so good.

neither of them dare to speak as they start coming down from their respective highs. it was like they didnt want to ruin the moment, not wanting to shatter the small amount of peace they had.

however, it is broken eventually. nikitas voice cuts through the silence.

“thank you,” hes breathless, not having fully recovered “i love you, artyom.” it was a risky thing to say. he never got anything good out of saying it, violence was the only thing ever returned to him, but this wasnt an opportunity he wanted to miss.

artyom isnt sure how to respond though. he was never one for the intimacy and romance of sexual situations. he never knew how to handle it.

he remains silent as he lets go of themselves, his hand sticky and wet with semen from each of them.

he pulls his head back a little to look at him, seeing the expectant look on his face. he was desperate for him to say it too.

“i love you too, nikita.”

it might be one of the first times hes ever said that. the way nikita smiles in return is absolutely priceless, pulling him back into another wet, warm, and sloppy kiss.

the night truly couldnt get better then this.

[lietwice]

GARAK HATES THE SCRUBS. But they're necessary, and so he allows Julian to help him into them even as he complains about how terrible they are and what an ordeal it is for him to have to wear them. Getting to the transport station is difficult and painful. Garak is out of breath by the time they get there from the physical strain of moving through the pain and stiffness, even with the crutch and his husband for support. He also feels really quite sick, and that only gets worse the longer he's up for. They've barely been home five seconds when all at once, he feels like every part of his body has reached its limit for the day. The pain is too much, the nausea is too much, and he's so horribly dizzy and shaky... "Zhulian, I need to sit down," he says suddenly, unable to give Julian more than a second of warning before his bad leg is already folding.

As soon as Garak sits up, Julian is right there with helping hands, ready to make sure he doesn't fall. When he stands, he stays in position to support and/or catch him. But he seems to stay upright, at least with help. Julian looks him over, judges the situation, and eases him back down. "Let me get you a crutch. I'll support you as well, but just for stability's sake." Julian has already moved to fetch it, and he comes back within a couple minutes with that, a packet of something, which is tucked into his pocket, and a pile of their combined filthy clothing--at least what didn't seem too badly damaged. "I'm sorry I don't have something fresh and comfortable for you, but I salvaged some scrubs, and your condition warrants transporter use, so we'll be home shortly." They still have to get to the transport station, but that's better than having to trudge their way home on the broken paths and the overcrowded train. Julian kisses him, helps him into the scrubs, and then adjusts the crutch for his height. Then they go home.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Part Nine

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (I will cover the symptoms as well as possible, but any and all corrections are welcome) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

There is something special about the barracks room you share with a man named Keegan Russ.

It doesn't lie in the construction, nor in the beds or how they're both unfortunately twin-size with terrible mattresses. It is so special to you because it is the very first space you've peacefully shared with someone you can comfortably admit to trusting.

Sure, temporarily, you're shared a room with Soap. Shortly before the... incident, you'd spent a good chunk of your time with Gaz. Still, you never quite felt like it was yours as much as it was his.

Back then, it had been something purely sensical. Of course the room didn't feel like it was yours, you've been here less than six months. Looking back, that feeling stung a good dose more.

It was a lucky night, in that neither you nor Keegan had suffered a nightmare. That just meant the thing to wake you was his alarm, blaring directly in your ear because Keegan always stole the part of the bed closest to the wall. You always let him have it.

The first thing you do is tiredly grab the bottle of lotion from the small nightstand, and sit yourself on the bed's edge, dispensing just enough into the warped, burned flesh of your palm.

If someone told you four years ago that you'd have to moisturize your stump first thing in the morning because it got dry overnight, you would have given them a really weird look.

Still, it's that motion that draws your favorite American to wakefulness. Every last time.

"Mhhngh, wh- oh."

Most of the time, Keegan just watches you get yourself ready. He'll pass you the compression "sock" that covers the stump that used to be your leg, gently kiss at your neck as you slip on your leg.

He used to talk more, but the quiet is good, too. It's simpler, and you struggle to speak in the mornings. Some complication or other, you're not sure. Smoke inhalation, you remember someone bringing up, in the early days.

Still, you can feel him shift behind you as you grab your prosthetic, and you feel two thick arms wrapping around your waist as he gently pecks your cheek, feels up on one of the few non-marred parts of your body.

"Hello to you too, Keegan."

The chuckle he gives you is worth the strain to your throat, and you can feel his cheeks rounding with a smile against the column of your throat.

There's a grateful hum that quickly turns into a soft grumble of annoyance as you rise on foot and fake limb, the younger still shrouded with blankets and drowsy. You've become accustomed to this.

"Already?"

"Yup."

Keegan groans again, but catches your hand in his own when you offer it, and hauls himself out of bed, rubbing the sleepy crust from the corners of his eyes and reaching to his clothes for the day.

"Thanks, Newton."

Your call sign drives a snort from you, and Keegan smiles when he hears it, though he doesn't react further, and a comfortable silence–broken on occasion by the soft rustling of clothes–settles between these sacred walls.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of course, there are many parts to a morning, Keegan is not the only person you see anymore.

No, you do have people you... tolerate, now.

Maybe tolerate sounds rude. You do like Hesh and Logan, but in the mornings the younger really does test you.

At the very least, Keegan is the one who receives the brunt of that energy, as Hesh passes you the coffee.

"Real sweet, David, thank you."

The way the corners of his lips twitch up is enough to make you smile, too, and lean forward enough to press a little peck to his cheek.

It's always good to make sure everyone's in order before travel. You learned that from Sarah, and she'd hate to see you not living up to that.

Granted, she'll only be on the other side of the pond for another few hours, at the very most.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe the only person you can admit to missing from your old task force is Nikolai.

The big Russian is someone you were only granted the honor of meeting once or twice, but he'd also never been a person that's entirely defied everything you were supposed to know about them.

Your last text from Nikolai isn't a scalding "fuck you". No, that's Soap. Bitch.

The slightly angered reverie is broken by Logan, with a strong, slightly knobby hand on your shoulder. Just a short tap, to bring you back into it.

You'll give him the credit, he knows how to handle people. Sometimes even Keegan misses a slip that's quiet like that.

"I'm here, kid."

He offers a lopsided smile at the curt response, goading you into giving him just a little more, Newton, c'mon. You humor him, this time.

"Thank you, Sergeant Walker, I commend your work for this team's morale."

You can't believe you ever used to confuse the brothers, when you watch Logan beam and puff his chest up a little at the lightest praise. Youngest child, to the very end of the line.

His mother must have been a hell of a woman, if Hesh was right about Logan being just like she used to be.

That tender thought must make you smile just a bit too wide, because he leans forward, and taps you on your nose.

"Told you I would get you to smile by the end of my first year."

"That-" He's pulling you into his traps, you almost said it didn't count. Why in god's name does Logan do to make everyone horse around like school-kids? No rational team would take this seriously "Fine, you win, Walker. Enjoy it."

He does, right up until the copper starts to land. This time, on British soil.

Your thanks are met with a phrase you can't quite parse, but you give the pilot a firm nod anyway.

Today's been good to you, even if the change in pressure has caused the phantom pain to spike. You take a moment longer to savor it before the second shoe drops.

Keegan's right there behind you, one more time, pressing his masked face into your neck so you know precisely who it is.

"You know we'll all have you, right?"

You take a second to take a breath, hand settled on the door of the helicopter, still hesitating just a little.

"Affirmative."

The second thing he says comes in a whisper, intended for only your ears, from your very favorite nurse. Your person.

"They like you just like I do. Everyone's got you, and I love you."

Those words used to make you cry. This time, they make you nod, and push the door open.

"Good choice of words, Russ. We can discuss that later."

There will be no discussion that happens later. It will be much closer to an act of fraternization, and you both know this. You know he knows this because Keegan's bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

Still, your foot hits the floor, narrowly followed the running blade, and you give the men before you a deeply unimpressed look.

"Hello, Task Force 141."

Is it a purposeful disrespect to not greet your former captain by his name? They can't prove that.

Still, unless you've forgotten to count, there's one more soldier than there used to be.

"...And company. I didn't think you'd find new... backup so soon."

You hide nothing. Not as you look at who must undoubtedly be your replacement. Masculine-presenting, masked and he's... glued two little wires to his helmet.

What a fucking joke. They almost did you a favor by transferring you out, really.

"Firecracker?-"

Johnny is cut off firmly by you before he can finish, a tone that almost borders on reprimand.

"My callsign is Newton, MacTavish. I don't use anything unapproved."

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