#She sounds almost unreal

[uzi-x33]

i genuinely don’t think I’ve heard a better voice then ado.

[luvsupa]

“YOU’RE A STAR!”

tags: musician!choso x manager fem!reader, reader has a secret fan account, both are in 20, choso has lots of tattoos and is an r&b singer, he has piercings, smut (p in v), ōral sex (f!recieving), sub!choso (ish), voyeurism, etc. mdni.

w.c: 3,2k

a/n: YALL I’m almost at 2k LIKE THATS INSANEEEE!! TY GUYS SOSOS MUCHHH AHHH

+ erm if there’s errors lmkk

you sit in choso’s expansive dressing room, surrounded by his makeup and fashion assistants, eyes glued to the big screen as he finishes his final song of the concrrt. the sound of thousands of screaming fans fills the air, their voices blending with his deep, angelic one. even from back here, you can hear the unmistakable roar of the crowd, hanging onto every note he sings. the way he commands the stage, the way he moves—everything about him makes your chest tighten.

he looks unreal tonight, his stylist outdid themselves. the subversive, edgy look suits him perfectly, especially the ripped wife-beater that showcases his inked arms, gleaming under the stage lights. the body glitter you suggested—yeah, that was definitely a good call- catches the light in all the right ways, making him look out of this world.

you’re supposed to be his manager, maintaining some form of professionalism, but damn, it’s impossible when he looks this good. especially when he runs his hand through those messy brown locks , letting a few strands fall over his face. you bite your lip, trying to focus on anything but the way your heart races when he’s on stage.

the thought of professionalism slips even further when you pull out your phone, dimming the brightness low. not for work—no, not tonight. instead, you open the app you use to connect with his fanbase under your secret username.

chogetsmewetter

it still makes you smirk every time you see it. his fans had been relentless, trying to bribe you for the username. but it’s yours, and you're not giving it up for anyone.

chogetsmewetter: are u guys seeing how good he looks… need him immediately

responses flood in almost instantly.

chososwhore: baby, nobody wants him more than i do…

choochoo: y’all send videos of the concert plzzz :(

kamosbaby: my baby daddy lookin good on stage.

you’re too caught up in scrolling through the candid photos and fan reactions, smiling like an idiot, when the makeup assistant catches you off guard.

“what’s got you smiling like that?” she teases, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

you quickly shove your phone into your pocket, plastering on your best fake smile. “just checking cho’s schedule for next week. his brothers want to surprise him at the last show.”

it’s a lie, of course, but you’re used to spinning quick stories, and she just shrugs, moving on. but not without another jab. “girl, you love calling him cho, don’t you? does he let you call him that in bed too?”

your eyes widen as choso’s fashion designer giggles along with her. “guys, nothing’s going on. we’re strictly business—i manage his schedule, and that’s it.” but the words taste bitter, even as you force them out. nothing more. yeah, right.

the deafening cheers from the TV rescue you from any more teasing. all eyes turn to the screen as choso wraps up, thanking the crowd with that deep, velvet voice of his. the camera zooms in on his face, his lips curling into a soft smile as he waves and blows kisses to the adoring fans. gosh, he’s perfect.

a few moments later, the dressing room doors swing open, and there he is. choso, in the flesh, followed by his bodyguards. his team erupts in cheers, swarming him with praise, but you move to the back in the corner, blending into the background. moments like this are too chaotic for you, but you know you’ll have your moment later, probably on the tour bus.

amidst the chaos, his eyes find you, and he frowns a little when he sees you typing away on your phone, oblivious to the world. he doesn't know, of course, that you're replying to posts about him.

before you can finish your latest message, you feel him standing right in front of you, towering over you. the air feels thick between you two, and you curse internally as you slip your phone into your pocket once again, heart racing.

“you forgetting something?” his voice is low, teasing, as he glances down at your hands.

you quickly shake your head, trying to play it cool. “c’mon, cho, you know i’d never survive in that crowd,” you say, nodding toward the gaggle of team still dying for his attention.

his hands, cold from the stage, slide into yours, pulling you just a little closer. you swallow hard. “i knowww, but your support matters the most outta all of ‘em,” he says, rocking slightly, his lips curling into that perfect half-smile. the one that makes your stomach flip.

he smells incredible, the scent of his unreleased cologne wrapping around you, making your head spin. you smile, turning away, but he moves with you, trying to catch a glimpse of that smile.

“c’mon, let’s grab dinner. my director’s waiting,” he says, releasing your hands, and you instantly frown, missing his touch.

you follow him and his bodyguards out, offering a quick farewell to the makeup and fashion team. they don’t miss the chance to wink at you, clearly still enjoying the teasing.

as you near the exit, the noise outside grows louder—fans desperate to catch one last glimpse of choso. this is the part of the night you dread, knowing how insane the crowd can get. but when he looks over his shoulder and gives you that grin, the chaos doesn’t seem so bad.

two guards swing open the doors, harsh light flooding in as flashes from cameras blind you instantly. the screams grow deafening, and you brace yourself. this is always the worst part—being unable to see, disoriented, as the paparazzi go wild trying to capture every inch of choso’s presence.

but choso? he thrives in this. he’s in his element, beaming as he dives straight into the crowd. signing albums, posing for photos, accepting gifts—he eats it all up. you trail behind one of his bodyguards, eyes flickering to where he’s standing. your heart clenches as you catch sight of him—his lips locked with a fan.

you swallow hard. it’s not the first time. he always does this with her—his so-called “number one fan.” he remembers her face, her name, every single time. each time he kisses her in front of his adoring crowd, it feels like a punch to the gut. the fans love it. the media laps it up, turning her into a minor celebrity among his fandom.

how do you know? through your secret fan account.

you scoff quietly to yourself as you slip past the crowf, making it safely onto the tour bus. heading straight for the private area at the back, you drop your bag onto one of the leather couches, sinking into the seat by the window. from here, you can still see him outside, giving the fans hugs, taking endless photos. you watch in silence, jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

finally, after what feels like forever, choso steps onto the bus, breathless and flushed. he walks down the aisle toward you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“fuckkk, they’re amazing,” he groans, collapsing onto the couch beside you, still riding the high from the crowd.

they’re amazing? or she’s amazing…

you force a smile, eyes glued to your phone. “you looked like you were having fun, choso,” you mutter, distracted by your personal texts. his head drops back with a groan. one thing he can’t stand is when you don’t give him your full attention.

before he can start whining, one of the fashion designers calls your name from the front of the bus. you sigh, getting up quickly to see what the issue is. in your rush, you leave your phone behind on the couch.

choso watches as you walk away, eyes narrowing when he sees your phone lying there. you never leave it behind, always keeping it close, and curiosity gnaws at him. his leg bounces as he contemplates it. fuck it.

he snatches your phone up, eyes widening as the first thing he sees on your notification center is all he need to see.

[chogetsmewetter] new like from choochoo and 100+ others:

I need to fuck choso nowww, he’s so fuckin hot it’s not fairrr.

damn.

a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. so that’s why you’ve been acting weird. he sets your phone back down just as he hears your footsteps returning.

you return, completely unaware of what just happened. “choso, they said we can’t leave until another hour—” you start to explain, but he’s not listening. his thoughts are elsewhere, his leg bouncing slightly as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“how do you want me to fuck you?” he suddenly blurts out, his voice low and dark.

your eyes widen, body stiffening as his bold words hit you like a train. you fumble for the curtain, pulling it shut so the driver can’t hear.

“w-what the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer, your breath catching in your throat. his dark brown eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. he doesn’t need to say it—his gaze tells you everything.

he knows.

panic rises inside you as you glance toward your phone and then back to him. he nods slowly, confirming your worst fear. he found out.

“so… are you those shy freaks…” he asks casually, standing up from the couch. his towering frame looms over you, and your world feels like it’s shrinking as he removes his leather jacket, revealing his tattooed, muscular arms.

“y-you wanna do this here? in front of the fans?” you whisper loudly, eyes darting toward the windows that are now covered by the blinds.

he chuckles, low and wicked. “you didn’t seem to care posting your dirty thoughts in front of me.”

and he ate with that one.

just like how he’s now devouring you in the back of the tour bus. you’re nestled on the couch, right in front of the curtains that separate the chaos outside from your little world. choso is on his knees, going at you like a possessed man. your legs are pushed tight against your chest as he laps up your juices, sucking and swallowing your sweet fluids. his cold nose piercing nudges your clit as his tongue thrusts deep inside you at an inhumane speed. any trace of shame has long evaporated, replaced by his loud moans vibrating against your cunt, making your eyes cross slightly.

your hands tangle in his silky brown locks, tugging gently, which earns you a whimper as he pulls back, your essence and saliva coating his chin and glossy lips. “mmm, p-pull on it more, pretty,” he urges, gazing up at you with doe eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as he loses himself in you once again.

obeying him, you tug harder on his hair, bucking your hips against his face while his hands grip the back of your thighs, pushing you deeper into your chest. he’s growling now, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

“yesss, f-fuck, you’re so goooddd,” you praise, head thrown back as he slurps at your juices like a starving man. he pulls away to admire your twitching hole, his fingers parting your folds wider. he spits a wad of saliva directly into your gaping pussy, making you clench instinctively as he slides in two thick digits, effortlessly gliding through your sloppy walls. his thrusts are calculated as he studies your features, which are now squeezed shut in bliss.

“hmm, she’s fuckin’ wettt,” he comments, your pussy responding with loud, squelching sounds that fill the back of the bus, echoing your mess. “hahh, you put that username to use,” he taunts, your body burning with embarrassment. his thick fingers pick up speed, massaging that sweet spot, and your back arches off the couch, your lower tummy tingling as your breath quickens.

choso can sense you’re close, the way you tighten around him. suddenly, he sucks hard on your clit, swirling his tongue around your poor nub. you cover your mouth with your hands, muffling the moans that threaten to escape .

just before you can cry out his name, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you undone. he retreats from your soaked clit, watching your translucent essence dribble down your convulsing hole, spilling onto the couch. your breath hitches as he delivers a sharp slap to your pussy, jolting electricity through your body, and the sticky remnants of your orgasm cling to his palm, igniting an insatiable addiction to your sensitivity.

“nahhh, is this the wettest you can get?” he says, rising from his knees and unzipping his jeans, pulling his throbbing cock free from its confines. your mind goes blank at the sight. fuck, he definitely never lied about his size, especially in his songs. choso sits beside you, manhandling you onto his lap, your pussy pressing against his hard cock as you whimper,

this is really happening.

“ride me, darling—use me all you want.” he states, and it feels like you’re living out your dirtiest dream, because yu are. he leaves trails of kisses along the side of your neck, his glossy lips—coated in your cum—smudging against your skin. you stare down at his shaft, his leaky tip begging to be touched. raising your hips, you grab the base of his cock, making him wince as you align his rosy tip with your drooling entrance. his crownhead stretches you open, and you whimper at how big he is with each inch you take. your velvety walls accommodate his size, practically expanding as he settles into your pussy.

without warning, choso grips your hips, slamming you down against him. you wail as every inch of his cock plunges deep inside your walls, and he moans at how tight you are around him. “f-fuck, baby, takin’ so fuckin’ l-long,” he says impatiently, thrusting up into you as each movement leaves you more dazed and breathless.

with newfound courage, your hips immediately fuck back into his, faster than his sloppy thrusts, making his eyes roll back in pleasure. your grinding drives him wild, your pussy gripping him like it’s life or death. choso’s head falls back, broken moans slipping past his lips, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggles to hold back even more sounds of ecstasy.

you can feel the heat building between you, his cock stretching you further with each thrust. you grind down harder, relishing the way his body responds, each movement causing him to whimper and squirm beneath you. his hands grip your waist, guiding you, but you can tell he’s losing himself in the sensation, growing more ditzy with every upward thrust.

“c’mon, baby, ride me h-harder,” he begs, voice thick with desperation. his eyes fluttering as he’s moaning loudly. it’s intoxicating, watching him come undone because of you. you match your pace to the rhythm of his moans, your slickness coating him more with each thrust. the sound of your bodies slapping together drowns out the cheers of the fans outside, your pussy so noisy it’s almost too loud for your own liking.

“mmm, keep your eyes on me, pretty boy,” you purr, brushing your fingertips through his hair, tugging a big- earning a whimper at the pet name. you can see the way he bites his lip, trying to hold back more moans, but you know he won’t last long.

“hgn, you think jus’ cause you’re on top ‘m your bitch?” he groans, the tension between you two thcick. his gaze is wild, pupils dilated, and it only drives you further as you increase your pace, your hips slamming hard against his thighs, coating his throbbing base with your slickness. you giggle as he pathetically moans out, hands gripping your flesh tighter as you grind harder. his chubby tip sloppily kisses your cervix, sending shockwaves through your body as it begins to shake.

the way he reacts to every thrust, every grinding motion sends a thrill down your spine. he’s completely lost in you, his breathing ragged and unsteady. “y-you feel so good,” he stammers, voice breaking as he struggles to keep his focus, each word laced with pleasure. you smirk, feeling powerful, proud at the control you have over him.

“mhmm, ‘m starting to think y’er all talk, cho. you’re not showing me how you’d fuck me,” you taunt, leaning in his ear and tugging on his ear piercings, making him shudder at your seductive voice.

your words truly did something to him, awakening something much darker within. without hesitation, he carelessly picks you up, sliding his cock out of your hole as he slams you against the table adjacent to the couch. bending you over, he realigns himself with your hypnotizing cunt, the air thick with the heat of your lust. choso slams his entire length into your pussy, the sound of slickness echoing in the cramped space as your body squelches loudly, both of you moaning in unison. he grips your hips tightly, pounding mercilessly into you, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body as you cry out, not caring if the bus driver or any staff hears your cries of pleasure.

“cunt so good,” he growls, feeling you clamp down hard on his girthy length. his moan resonates deep within your core as he swats your ass, the sound of skin meeting skin sending electric jolts through you. he feels like he’s deep in your guts, rearranging everything inside you, each thrust making your pussy squelch obscenely. it’s so loud that it drowns out any sounds from outside, the wet slaps of your bodies merging into a symphony of lust. you’re practically squeaking like a damn mouse with every thrust, your body unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you.

without warning, he grips your hair and pulls you up against him, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispers, “take it all, mama. you can take it.” his words send a shiver down your spine, the duality of his sweet yet dominating tone intensifying your arousal. you nod, feeling yourself surrender completely to him, wanting nothing more than to be his.

“m-more cho’ ,” you whine, and he responds with a primal growl, his hips slamming into yours harder, faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. his movements are relentless, each thrust a story to his desire, his need for you. you can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, the pressure building to a breaking point.

but then, in the midst of your euphoric bliss, you slowly open your eyes, and your jaw drops in shock. he placed you directly in front of the window, where all the fans are just outside, oblivious to the scandalous scene unfolding inside. the reality of the moment crashes over you, and you gasp, suddenly aware of the possibility of being seen.

“c-cho… the—fuckk—the fans,” you manage to warn, your entire body jolting with his relentless thrusts, each one motivating him to go even faster, to claim you harder.

“nahh, now you wanna back out?” he snarls through gritted teeth, going absolutely feral. his grip tightens as he reaches to grab the back of your hair, pulling you flush against his chest, forcing you to take him deeper. the blinds rattle as he yanks them open wider, letting in more light for the fans to see everything happening inside. the flashes from paparazzi cameras blind your vision as they snap multiple shots of your fucked out expression, choso grinning behind like a devil at each click.

“say cheese, pretty. you’re gonna be a star,”

[hoshifighting]

Hello, I love your blog! What do you think about this scenario, when jihoon finds out reader has very sensitive breasts and nipples and is able to have a nipple orgasm? But reader already knew that she can have it, but left it as a surprise for him. So he's just playing with reader's tits and it makes her more turned on, so he continues and it happens

woozi making reader cum just from nipple play

WARNINGS: smut, nipple play, a very shocked and turned on jihoon?, biting, licking, sucking, mention of penetrative sex, masturbation (f. receiving)

you’re lying with your boyfirend, all sprawled out and giggly, letting jihoon take his time playing with your body and your responses. his hands are warm, and surprisingly smooth, fingers slightly calloused.

“you’re so sensitive here,” he mutters, thumb swiping lazily over your nipple. the small, surprised gasp you let out makes him pause, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “what, didn’t think i’d notice?”

you bite your lip, playing coy. “maybe.”

he quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and his other hand joins the party. his thumbs circle your nipples in slow flicks, and when you arch into his touch, he leans in close.

“this good?”

“mhm,” you hum, trying to keep it casual, but your body betrays you. your back arches, your breath hitches, and you’re doing everything not to outright moan.

he notices.

“huh.” he tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches your reaction. his fingers pinch and roll, just a little rougher, and when your thighs press together, his smirk widens. “wait… no way.”

you don’t respond, just close your eyes and let out the tiniest whimper. it’s enough to send his brain into overdrive.

“holy shit,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “is this… are you…?”

you peek at him through half-lidded eyes, the faintest, most mischievous smile on your lips as you grit out a bit sulky. “what do you think, woozi?”

his jaw drops. actually drops.

“you’re joking,” he says, voice shaky, but his hands don’t stop. his fingers start to work harder, and it's almost funny how far hes willing to concentrate, as if he’s testing a theory.

“oh my god, you’re not joking,” he breathes when your breathing gets heavier, your hips starting to shift like you’re chasing something.

“keep going,” you gasp, voice thin and desperate now, and that’s all the confirmation he wished.

his mouth joins in, lips latching onto one nipple while his hand works the other. he alternates between soft licks and firm sucks, and the combination is devastating.

“you’re actually gonna cum from this,” he mumbles against your skin, sounding both awestruck and ridiculously turned on. “fuck, you’re unreal.”

your hands fly to his hair, pushing him back to twirl his tongue around your sensitive and flushed bud, tugging as your body strains under him. “jihoon—oh my god, stop t-talking!”

he feels your thighs quiver, your hands tighten in his hair, he realizes that every flick of his tongue is pushing you closer to the border. his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking hard before switching to fast flicks of his tongue. his other hand rolls your neglected nipple between his fingers, pinching and twisting just enough to draw out the prettiest gasps from you.

your head falls back, mouth hanging open, and you’re gone. when it finally happens, your entire body tenses, thighs clenching, your hips lifting slightly off the bed as you moan, high-pitched and breathy.

jihoon’s eyes snap up to your face, his mouth still latched onto your breast as he watches the realization wash over you.

“oh my god,” he mumbles funnily around your nipple, pulling back just enough to look at you properly.

your chest heaves, your hands falling limply from his hair to rest on the bed. you’re flushed, your skin glistening, and your lips slightly parted as you try to catch your breath.

jihoon sits back on his knees, his chest rising and falling with his own labored breathing. “you actually…” his voice trails off, disbelief and arousal warring in his face.

you stay quiet, your head turned slightly to the side, as if avoiding his gaze.

“you just came… from that?” he asks, his tone somewhere between wonder and outright lust.

you nod, cheeks burning as you avoid looking directly at him. “yeah,” you mumble, so quiet he barely hears you.

his hand moves to your thigh, his grip firm as he slides his palm up, pausing when his fingers meet the wet heat between your pussy lips. “you’re not messing with me, right? this wasn’t, like, a coincidence?”

“jihoon!” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “it’s not weird, okay? i’ve always been like this.”

he stares at you, his brain still trying to catch up with what just happened. his fingers move against you, feeling the slick and glossy proof of your orgasm, and he bites his lip. “are you kidding me? weird? this is… fuck, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

your hips shift at his words, instinctively pressing into his hand, and that’s when he notices the subtle roll of your body, the way your legs fall open just a little wider, and how your gaze flicks down to the obvious strain in his sweatpants.

his cock twitches against his thigh, already achingly hard, and he can’t help but smirk. “you’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?”

you lift your head, your eyes narrowing at his cocky tone. “thinking about what?”

he leans down, his mouth brushing against your ear. “how good it’s gonna feel when I fuck you stupid.”

you shudder, and before you can answer, his lips find yours, stealing the breath from your lungs as he presses you into the mattress.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans into your mouth as his hips grind against yours. his hands find your breasts again, fingers toying with your sensitive nipples, and your body jerks beneath him.

“so sensitive,” he murmurs, his lips moving down your neck, his tongue tracing a path to your collarbone. “i could make you come like that all night, couldn’t I?... you’ve been holding out on me,” he teases, biting lightly at the soft swell of your breast. “keeping secrets. you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” you don’t even get the chance to respond before his tongue is back on your nipple, his fingers slipping between your folds to find your gummy walls.

[dolliels]

I'VE BECOME THE FIANCÉ OF THE VILLAIN?!

leona x gn reader

synopsis: going to bed after reading a horribly self indulgent romance novel, you seemed to wake up as an extra of the series. what stories will unfold while on a mission to find a way out?

author’s note: this is a mini series. no idea if i'll finish it tho.

[one] [two] [three] [four] [epilogue]

the whirring of the fan was the only other sound that you could other than your nail tapping on your phone. 

it’s been a full day now and you’ve done nothing except lie on your couch and read a horribly self indulgent novel. the weather was too hot and the chewed up popsicle stick flung around in your mouth.

I’ve become the fiancé of a villain?! was an all-time hit novel, written by an anonymous writer. you’ve heard about it and the plot clearly interested you, but there were only 5 chapters when you discovered it so you let it marinate for a while. today you found out it was completed, so you sat down and spent your entire day reading.

much to your disappointment, the story sucked.

it was about the main character, roselia, who fell asleep in the middle of class and woke up in the middle of a fantasy world that she wrote when she was bored!

leona kingscholar, a jealous second-born son who wanted to be king more than anything, devises a plan to kill his older brother. fortunately, roselia wrote the story so she knew leona like the back of her hand. unfortunately, she was the betrothed fiancé of leona, someone he took advantage of to execute his plan. when she found out about his goal of murdering the king, the fiance tried to warn everyone and leona finds out, killing her. the novel focused on roselia trying her best to not get murdered and falling in love with leona in the process.

it wasn’t like the idea was bad, you’ve read thousands of stories like that before and enjoyed them all. it’s just that this one was incredibly self-indulgent, with leona’s cold, merciless eyes that turn into metaphorical hues of warmth when he sees the girl he used to hate, the girl he was reluctantly betrothed to, the girl who is now the woman of his dreams. (you almost threw up reading that)

how was this novel even popular? with plans to complain about it tomorrow, you passed out on your bed.

birds chirped and you soaked in the warmth of the sun. you felt incredibly gross and dirty that morning, and wanted to freshen up. heading to the bathroom, you tumbled your way to the door (was the floor always this slippery?) as you groggily looked into the mirror, you saw yourself………..? huh? is that you? wait no, you don’t look like that…. what?!

after much looking around, you figured that this wasn’t your body (obviously) but you were you, and the body you were in definitely wasn’t what you remembered looking like the other night. you examined your face carefully, you frowned. what is this? some sort of isekai? it has to be. but that sounds completely unreal! aren’t isekai’s…fake? you felt way too overpowered knowing what an isekai even is in the first place. most leads in these novels don’t know what the word means at all. you felt too advantaged.

what crazy novel were you reading…?

you frowned until an imaginary light bulb popped up.

i’ve become the fiancé of the villain!

does that mean you’re roselia…?

no, that couldn’t be right. roselia woke up in a grand but empty bedroom that she shared with leona. you… woke up in a boring commoner’s room.

you looked around your messy bedroom, trying to gather any hints of who you are and what you do.

after rummaging through the entire house, you concluded three things.

1. you ran a small bookstore. which is honestly a win because you’ve always wanted to run one without financially skinning you alive. you seem to be stable so that’s a pro in your head.

2. you were just some character extra that didn’t matter to the plot.

3. you were assigned to stock up some books for the royal library. the kingscholar royal library.

from reading the novel, you knew leona did nothing but stay in the castle all day. that gives you a glimmer of hope that you’d see roselia.

the things, there are two possibilities as to where the story is going.

the first possibility is that the roselia in this universe is the roselia that you read in the novel. which is more likely, because it is the story that you read.

the second possibility is that this may be the original story and you might be the only person in this whole story that has been isekai’d. which means leona would kill her eventually.

either way, you had a strong feeling that roselia was the key for you to get back home. and that was the only thing that was on your mind right now. and no, you are not going to be like those other leads that just settle for a life in another universe that does not belong to them. you are determined to go back.

on that fateful morning you luckily packed the boxes of books the day before, or any other day, you can’t recall anything in your current self. but the person who held consciousness of this body already packed the books, which means you should be able to just drive your cart to the castle. the castle is huge and you can see from your window. there should be no problem getting the, right?

-

“…you’re late.”

you huff and puff as you bend your knees. you got lost as to where to go and ended up carrying the boxes of books yourself around the place before finding the area.

“i’m sorry. i got lost.”

“lost? you’re never lost. you’ve been here plenty of times.”

you had no excuse for that. but whatever, you got the job done, right?

the man with neat blue hair clicked his tongue and scratched something off of his paper.

“well?” he said, staring you down.

“well what?”

“aren’t you gonna go bring the books inside?”

oh, right.

-

you weren’t a huge bookworm, unless you count the copious amounts of isekai novels you’ve read. but looking at the glamorous library, it suddenly made you thirst for all books that exists, even the classics, something you’ve tried to enjoy but struggled to fully digest. hey, don’t blame anyone! thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat aren’t the best ways to use english in the modern world.

as you stack the books into the shelves, you find yourself browsing through the already existing books, browsing your fingers across the spines, feeling each and every gold brim.

maybe this world isn’t as bad.

you were originally under the assumption that you had to just drop off the books and go, but you soon found out that you’re also responsible for the library archive, not like you needed to keep track anyway.

you sighed and smiled. so a small bookstore wasn’t enough to hold you up financially after all. you ended up getting a side in the royal palace of all places! the pay must be pretty good.

you know… as you think back, you remember roselia coming into the library, attempting to find any other information of escape and accidentally bumping into the book stocker… could that possibly be you?

then that means roselia is bound to bump into you any moment!

as you eagerly keep your eye out for the pretty princess, you take your time putting the books away. there should be no problem how long you take, right?

“hey.”

roselia? no. the voice is gruff, and deep. that… no. roselia is definitely a girl… so that is not the lady you are waiting for.

you turn around.

leona kingscholar. 

he’s exactly as he’s described. the novel mentions leona’s good looks so much it was practically shoved in your face. but you felt like the words itself couldn’t properly describe his beauty.

he had the kind of hair that gently parts around his shoulders, comfortably setting itself down on top, a sleek, shiny glow to it that is only prominent and glittery at certain angles of the sun, making you want to stare at his hair alone even more.

his skin was smooth, almost doll-like with little to absolutely no imperfections. it scrunched up perfectly, creating deliberate folds across his face as his eyebrows pursed together, frowning. his emerald-esque eyes staring directly at you. he looked like the kind of guy you’d want to make a good impression to.

unfortunately, you don’t look like you’re doing your job, with a book open and a box full of them that haven’t been organized yet, and your mouth… was agape. it seems like you forgot that you are actually in the universe, looking directly at what you deemed to be the handsomest man you have ever met.

you seemed to thank the skies and above for gracing you with an opportunity to be able to place your eyes on someone so perfect that your brain completely lagged.

you had to remind yourself, leona is not real! and you won’t ever see his kind of beauty anywhere in the real world. he’s a fictional character!

suddenly, you felt like you were pulled back into reality.

oh right, in the novel, leona is actually a huge dick in the novel!

before leona fell in love with roselia, he was demanding, lazy and scheming. he was smart, and used his wits for his own gain (ultimately leading to roselia and his brother’s demise in the original story.)

speaking of, where is roselia?

you distinctly remember that roselia was supposed to bump into you and then afterwards leona walks in on her.

it seemed as if the story was going as planned, but without roselia.

“well?” the same voice caught you alert again, and you remembered that you had to act like a normal person.

“oh. uh. hello…?”

you didn’t know what to say. you spent the entirety of the day before in your world reading about him, his backstory and everything else that talking to him as if he’s a treasure box to be unlocked was surreal.

“hello? hello??” leona scoffed. “first, you’re not doing your job properly, snooping around the royal collection and no etiquette remaining at all.”

you bowed down, trying to look as shameful as possible. there was no hierarchical respect for him lingering at all. you assume this is because you saw him as a fictional character first and foremost.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“psh.” he replied, waving his hand back. “hurry up. I’ll come back later.”

you snickered to yourself as leona walked away. the clacking of his fancy shoes on the glass floors echoing throughout the library. when you snorted, you heard the walking pause then continue again, as if leona heard the laugh but wasn’t bothered enough to say anything.

-

you sat in your chair, frowning, your elbow propped up against the table under your chin.

it has been nearly a week since you woke up in this world so far, and you haven’t seen roselia anywhere.

of course, roselia being a princess after all, rarely ever left the palace, but in the novel, the new roselia went out and about in many places.

after you were able to catch up to the timeline when leona walked into the library, you tried to follow your memory as much as possible and wasted your time lurking in places roselia should’ve been at.

could this possibly not be the novel you read after all? maybe… this roselia isn’t the roselia you know.

you shake your head. your hopes were diminishing, but it wasn’t like there was no hope at all!

plus, the bookstore you ran had minimal conversations, people would browse through and purchase. this meant you had all the time in the world to try and figure out other alternatives.

cling

the bell of the door clang a few times before quieting down. the array of bookshelves blocked your few from seeing whoever entered, but you could hear the pitter patter of rain hitting the ground outside when the door opened. you hoped they didn’t get anything wet.

“welcome!”

no reply.

you shrugged and went back to scribbling down on your paper.

stomp, stomp, stomp

you looked up. something was oddly out of place.

holding the nearest weapon you had (a paper cutter, ridiculous.) you slowly got out of your seat in between the many shelves of your bookstore.

the paper cutter firmly between your hands, you pointed it out just in case.

“who’s… who’s in here?”

no reply.

stomp, stomp, stomp

“I said… who’s in here?”

no reply, but you heard an annoyed grunt.

BOOM!

just as the thunders outside clashed, you finally reached the last shelf to see a figure entirely hidden by the lightning.

as it died down, you saw the trail of blood on the floor under your soft yellow lights and an injured man who stood right in front of you.

before you could react, the man completely slumped to the ground, giving you an opportunity to safely approach him.

you lifted the familiar locks of chocolatey brown hair to see… leona kingscholar. bloodied, injured and unconscious.

TO BE CONTINUED...

an: lowkey really got into the story rather than the romance... oops. if this fic receives well i'll focus on romance on the next part :)

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hi can u pls do like a tag team type thing with Ellie Williams and vi or vi and Caitlyn please. Thank you!

Hi anon, thank you for this request. You gave me the perfect opportunity to try writing a threesome! I hope you enjoy this, I know it's more Vi-centric but I love my girl Ellie too.

Content: 1.5k words, Slight virgin/corruption kink (reader is their good girl and they gotta take her virginity!!), fingering (r! receiving), nipple-play (r! receiving), strap-on sex (r! receiving), use of pet names, not edited so may have some spelling errors

“I know what you want, angel.”

Vi’s voice cuts through your daydream. You were stuck on the way Ellie’s veins were visible through her hands and how you wanted her fingers deep inside you..you shouldn’t, ‘cause she’s supposed to be just a friend. Still, you’re a sick slut who’s imagining Ellie fucking you into outer space.

Not only that, but Vi, too. Her back, oh fuck..it’s so hard to think when she is wearing a wife-beater and her burly build is on display. You wanna claw into her back-

You’re so fucking obsessed with your two best friends, it’s unreal.

Ellie, for one, is a dream. She’s more standoffish and quiet—not shy, but prefers to keep to herself unless she’s with you and Vi. She feels comfortable, but she’s not like Vi in really any way that matters.

Where Ellie is into playing the guitar and reading comics, Vi’s into boxing and sports. You’re their cute best friend who somehow puts up with their bullshit. And right now, it’s so hard to study when Ellie suddenly shifts closer, and Vi’s words are on the other side of you, words spoken softly but teasingly into your ear.

You’re supposed to be doing peer review in your bedroom..

“W-What are you even talking about, Vi?!” You feign innocence.

Vi only laughs, and your core is heating up. How the hell did you go from playful banter to the room suddenly dripping with sexual tension, laid on so thick you swear it’s already filling your nostrils.

“Don’t act dumb, angel. We see the way you look at us. C’mon..” Her voice is alluring, soft, and it doesn’t help that Ellie is just staring at you with hungry eyes. She isn’t like Vi, not teasing and comedic when it comes to romance. That’s what is so enticing about the situation you’ve found yourself in; you have two completely different but beautiful girls in your bed! You’re somehow getting more pussy than the average masc, and you’re sporting stocking for fuck’s sake.

When your face goes all read and your fingers are trembling, it almost goes unnoticed by Ellie the way your thighs are squeezing together. She lays a hand on your left thigh, the side of you she’s sitting next to, and slowly traces her touch up and down, soft patterns as if she’s making sure you’re really into all this.

Ellie and Vi both know you’re into this..these bitches read your journal in which you talked about getting drilled by both their straps!

“Gonna get all shy on us now, angel?” Vi murmurs into your ear, lips hardly making contact with your soft skin. The funniest thing about all of this is that Ellie is the one touching you and she hasn’t said a single word. It’s Vi guiding this, and Ellie adds onto your neediness.

Then, you feel Vi’s soft lips trace over the side of your neck. You could’ve came right then and there, and Vi earned herself a gasp.

“P-Please..” Is all you can even say. Your brain is much too fucked to process anything else, to think of anything but getting fucked by your two friends who you cherish more than anything in this world.

Your thighs squeeze and Ellie leans closer into you. Now, her lips are smothering the opposite side of your neck. You’re currently feeling all the blood in your body rush down to your clit. Your panties are as soaked as they’d be at a water park.

“Please what? C’mon, baby..tell me ‘n Els what you need.”

“I need you to make me feel good!”

You sounded so breathless already, it was pretty cute. They couldn’t deny you when you were like this.

-

You were left in absolutely but your thigh-high stockings—Vi and Ellie mutually agreed to keep those on. You’re laid out, Vi holding your legs open so you don’t shy away, with your slick pussy on full display. You’re already a goner.

Vi has a huge dildo attached to the harness around her waist. You did not know she brought that monster. Ellie definitely knew this, it had to be planned.

Vi needs to prep you first, she doesn’t wanna hurt her and Ellie’s good girl. Her fingers first trail over your pussy lips, eliciting already desperate moans from you. Ellie is watching and you swear she has hearts in her eyes. She pressed her middle finger into your pussy slightly, making you immediately clench your thighs together around her hand, but she doesn’t let up because you’re giving her soft little little pleas, “p-please, Vi..”, all she wants is to please you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” She groans as she slides her finger knuckles deep into your sopping pussy, watching your reaction to make sure you’re doing okay, and then slowly pulls out and adds another, stretching you open slowly as your inner walls swallow her fingers up.

Ellie is sat beside your sprawled body, groping your tits and leaning down to swallow your little whines of need with her mouth.

Kissing Ellie is like another level of heaven. It’s what you imagine being high to be like, if you ever actually smoked weed. Her lips are so soft, so warm. Her tongue licks all over your mouth and it makes you moan even more. When she pulls away, you’re breathless.

“Think you can take my dick, baby?” Vi inquires, and you immediately let out a slutty moan.

“I can, I promise!! Please give it to me, Vi..”

Vi nearly loses her shit when she hears that. It’s always the good girls that are most desperate, am I right?

“Give it to her, Vi. She’ll take it.” Ellie assures the pink-haired girl, and it makes you even wetter that she is talking to Vi as if you’re not there, like you’re basically too dumbed down to understand what she is talking about.

Vi doesn’t seem to wanna waste much time. She pulls her fingers out slowly, making you whine in protest before letting Ellie lick them clean. She spits down and rubs it all over the silicone cock, then she runs the cock up and down along your pussy, making you dizzy with need.

She finally parts your pussy lips and slides just the tip in when she’s got enough of your slick on her dick, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist, making her almost say “fuck it” and pound into you like you’re just some whore.

Ellie watches with hunger as Vi slowly fucks her cock into you. There’s less resistance with all of your juices and Vi’s own..lubricant, but she can practically tell your pussy clamping down on the cock. She realizes just how long she has been sitting in complete awe and leans down to wrap her lips around one of your nipples, making you moan even louder and tangle your fingers into Ellie’s hair.

Getting fucked feels so dirty, and yet so, so good. You’ve got Vi pounding into you now, the ridges of the cock slamming into your spongey walls right where you need it. You’ve got Ellie’s eager tongue flicking against your nipples, taking turns with each while her hand is between you and Vi’s bodies, rubbing tight circles onto your clit.

Your eyes want to just close and feel what these girls are giving you, but you can’t. The sight is so embarrassing for you to watch, but it makes it all the more better to just watch Vi groan as she thrusts into you, and watch as Ellie softly bites your tits.

“Baby’s getting close, hm?” Vi teases, making you involuntarily clench on her cock, only hastening your upcoming orgasm. Ellie’s mouth leaves your nipple, much to your disappointment, to whisper into your ear.

“Cum for us.” Her words are so vulgar, but the soft pecks she plants on your neck is what really sends you over.

You cry out their names like you’re worshipping them, frantically grasping onto Ellie’s hair and tugging at it to keep her mouth all over you, her tongue on your throat, and Vi is saying the most filthy things you’ve ever heard her say as your orgasm crashes through you like waves.

“Fuckkk, swear I can feel your pretty little cunt milk me.”

“There you go, good girl..just cum for me and Ellie.”

When you finally come down from your high, Vi slows down and Ellie’s mouth leaves your neck to plant a few soft kisses on your lips, her fingers leaving your clit to squeeze your hand.

You’re all blissed out, cute little stockings still adorned, and panting with closed eyes.

You just know you’re gonna get the best aftercare.

[hivemuthur]

Dream Within a Dream

My humble tiny contribution to jayvik nation!

mature! kissing/making out, unresolved tension, teeny tiny bit of angst because I'm happiness repellent

word count: 3,5K

summary: based on @mithrava's hc where Jayce and Viktor are so happy about their Hextech breakthrough, they celebrate with a little bit too much alcohol and well... you know. Therefore, tw: alcohol.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“…Will you please stop hovering?” Heimerdinger let out an annoyed huff at two of his pupils, in that moment floating around the room, amidst the blue hextech light scattered around them.

“I’m not sure how to do that, sir,” Viktor replied, trying to keep his composure—but he couldn’t hold back the laughter. He just couldn’t. It was unbelievable. It was unreal. They had actually done it.

Through endless nights of discussions, equations, notes, borderline illegal amounts of coffee, and sleeping in uncomfortable positions, they had managed to get here. To harness the power of magic and encapsulate it within a tiny crystal—endless possibilities contained inside.

So how could he be serious in that moment? There was absolutely no way to withhold the grin on his face. And even though so much was happening at once, Jayce took note of that grin—he hadn’t seen Viktor this happy before. In fact, he had only ever seen him vaguely content or, on rare occasions, excited. Happy? Never.

Heimerdinger’s voice broke them both out of the blissful moment. “This is not what Piltover’s future looks like, my dear boys.” The frown on his furry face gave away a concern that neither of them understood.

“That’s for the Council to decide.” Mel Medarda’s voice reached them before she appeared in her full glory. “Perhaps it is time,” she said, her tone gentle and measured as she scanned the room, “for the era of magic.”

“Uh, Hextech. For the era of Hextech,” Jayce corrected her, feeling the crushing weight of this moment. Where they could go from here seemed endless. And the best part of it was that he would be on this journey with Viktor.

***

They had managed to get the hovering under control, though not without casualties—Jayce had bashed his forehead on the desk while turning the machinery off, and Viktor had fallen straight onto his ass, a loud groan echoing through the workshop.

“Shit, Viktor, are you alright?”

The immediate concern in Jayce’s voice melted something deep inside Viktor. Something tender, almost unfamiliar. He looked up, and there Jayce was—already nursing his own bruised forehead, his face creased with a worried frown. Jayce. The man who, with all his relentless optimism, had somehow made Viktor’s world feel brighter.

Viktor’s lips twitched into a crooked smile, though he couldn’t quite meet Jayce’s eyes. “I’ll be fine. It’s mostly my pride that suffered,” he said, brushing himself off with as much dignity as he could muster. His voice sounded steadier than he felt. “I just need to… sit here for a moment.”

Jayce exhaled, a wide grin overtaking his face—so wide it threatened to split it in half. There was something almost boyish about it, as though he couldn’t hold in the sheer radiance of his joy.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be back before you can say ‘Hextech’!” he exclaimed, already pushing to his feet, a hand pressing against the purpling bruise on his temple. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this—the breakthrough, the impossible victory that had been years, perhaps a lifetime, in the making. For Jayce, this wasn’t just a moment of triumph; it was a culmination of dreams whispered into the dark, plans scribbled into tattered notebooks. And Viktor—Viktor had made this possible.

As Jayce bounded out of the workshop, his voice trailing triumphant “Wooo!” sounds down the hallway, Viktor was left alone. Mid-inhale, he blinked at the empty doorway. “It’s not like I would go—” he muttered, his voice quiet in the now cavernous silence, “—anywhere.”

The air stilled. Viktor slumped back against the edge of the workbench, his limbs aching but his heart so full it felt as though it might burst. He tilted his head back, letting his gaze settle on the swirling hextech light still dancing across the ceiling, refracting like a kaleidoscope of stars.

What had they done? What had he done?

This wasn’t supposed to happen—not to him, not like this. For years, Viktor had lived in the shadow of his own life. A quiet assistant to minds greater, stronger, brighter than his. A figure scribbling equations in the margins, unseen and unheard. He had been grateful for scraps—a word of praise, an acknowledgment, the briefest recognition that he existed.

But this? This moment was his as much as it was Jayce’s. He closed his eyes.

For the first time, Viktor allowed himself to hold the word in his mind: partner. It was a simple word, but it swelled against his ribs until he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know when it had started—when Jayce’s infuriatingly good-hearted presence had carved its way into his chest—but it was there, undeniable. A bloom of something delicate and dangerous, a feeling he could barely name.

Partner. But perhaps… perhaps something more.

The thought made him scoff softly to himself, shaking his head. Foolish. His pulse still hammered beneath his skin, hot with joy, with relief, with an ache he didn’t quite understand. His hand reached for his cane—a familiar comfort, even in its broken state—but he stopped short, fingertips hovering over the fractured wood.

Had he ever been this happy? Had he ever let himself be?

His chest rose and fell as he breathed, shaky and uneven, overwhelmed by it all. It hurt to feel this much, but gods, it was a beautiful kind of hurt.

“Jayce…” he whispered into the silence, testing the name on his tongue as though it might anchor him. Viktor let his hand fall away, sinking deeper into the weight of the moment. The hextech crystal continued to pulse in its cradle, and its glow reflected faintly in Viktor’s golden eyes—a mirror to the light he could feel, for the first time, inside himself. He had never had a reason to be this happy before. And he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Look what I found!” Jayce announced, as though he’d stumbled across a treasure hoard. “One cold compress—for your aching pride and your even more aching ass.” He tossed it toward Viktor, who caught it with a bemused huff. “And this,” he added, holding up the bottles with a victorious grin, “to seal the moment. A proper celebration.”

Viktor pressed the cool compress against his lower back, a small groan of relief escaping him. “You are… remarkably considerate,” he said, voice dry but fond. Then, eyeing the bottles dubiously, he added, “But I must warn you—I do not hold my liquor well.”

Jayce froze mid-flourish, his mouth dropping open in exaggerated offense. “Viktor, please. If you’re ever going to drink—ever—surely this is the moment to do it. You and I, two geniuses on the verge of changing the world! Are you really going to deny me the pleasure of seeing you loosen up?”

Viktor rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the faint upward twitch of his lips. “One glass,” he relented, holding up a single finger for emphasis. “One.”

Jayce grinned like he’d won a victory greater than Hextech itself. “Deal!”

The cork popped with a satisfying crack, and before Viktor could protest further, Jayce had pressed a glass into his hand, the bubbly liquid fizzing and glittering like gold. Viktor stared at it, his brows furrowed as though unsure whether to admire it or fear it.

“To us,” Jayce said, raising his glass.

Viktor hesitated just a moment longer before mirroring him. “To… us,” he echoed softly. Then he smiled and added, “Na zdraví” in his thick accent.

The champagne was sharp and cold on his tongue, sweet but with a bite that lingered. It spread warmth through him far too quickly, a heat that gathered in his chest and curled behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or simply the culmination of the day—the culmination of everything.

Jayce plopped down beside him on the floor, his legs stretched out lazily, their shoulders just barely brushing. “You know,” Jayce started, leaning his head back against the bench, “I can’t stop thinking about what this could mean. What we could do with it. Energy, innovation, security—Piltover could be… unstoppable.”

Viktor let his head loll to the side, a small smile quirking his lips as he studied Jayce’s face—open, bright, unwavering. “You are always looking ahead,” he said, his voice softer now, the champagne buzzing pleasantly at the edges of his thoughts. “It is admirable.”

Jayce turned to grin at him. “It’s easy when I’ve got you by my side.”

Viktor looked away, clearing his throat as heat threatened to creep up his neck. He forced his voice into a teasing lilt. “I could not help but notice how impressed Mel Medarda seemed with you earlier,” he said.

“Mel?” Jayce blinked, and Viktor swore he caught a flicker of hesitation. “She’s… she’s something, isn’t she?”

Viktor’s smile faltered slightly, a small twist forming in his chest. Something sharp and unpleasant. He frowned faintly to himself—jealousy? Ridiculous. Still, the feeling made him cringe. He’d never been prone to such sentiments before; why now?

Jayce, as though sensing something, rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. “But, uh… I’ve had my eyes elsewhere for a while.”

Viktor turned to him, his brows knitting in confusion. “Elsewhere?”

The question hung between them, and for the briefest moment, Jayce’s confidence faltered. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, looking almost… nervous. Finally, he laughed, too quickly, waving a hand in the air. “I mean on our research, of course! Hextech. What else?”

Viktor tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Jayce’s face. “Right,” he said slowly, though he didn’t quite believe it.

Jayce turned his head away, suddenly focused on the far wall of the workshop. His hands fiddled with the stem of his glass, his thumb running absently along its edge. He felt off-kilter, as though the champagne had stripped him of some unseen armor. His pulse was too fast. And Viktor—Viktor, who sat beside him with his sharp golden eyes and his half-tilted smile—was studying him with far too much patience.

Jayce forced himself to look. Just look. He let his eyes trace Viktor’s features, committing them to memory—the sharp angles softened by the dim light, the faint flush to his pale cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly as though always on the edge of forming a thought. Damn.

He couldn’t stop talking, theorizing. He talked and talked, desperate for Viktor’s attention, for his hums of approval, for his thoughtful expressions. Their faces were getting closer and closer, as Jayce’s voice faltered and began to quiet.

“I mean, if we go about this well, think of all the people we could help. We could revolutionize mining, transport, we could—” His breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t know why. For the love of him, he couldn’t understand what invisible force guided his hands in that moment to cradle Viktor’s cheeks and press his lips against Viktor’s. Maybe it was the Hextech itself, but, oh gods, he didn’t know it was possible—it felt even better than hovering around the room mere hours ago.

It was so quick; he didn’t even register when he got back to his previous position.

Silence fell between them, heavy and aching. Jayce couldn’t bring himself to look up when he felt slender hands tugging at his neck and pulling him back to where he had just been. It was a slow movement—tentative, yet deliberate. Viktor’s arms guided him back to where he was supposed to be, and Jayce had to balance himself on his friend’s hip. The kiss was slow, sloppy, lazy even. Extended in time, as if they wanted time itself to stop and freeze them in this fleeting moment.

Jayce moaned involuntarily as he felt a sharp pull of heat drag through his core, ready to pull Viktor closer, when Viktor hesitantly broke them apart.

A small “Wait,” barely audible, escaped Viktor’s mouth. “I am sorry, I don’t know what—” he tried, but his words failed him. What he needed right now was a calculation: of the risk, of the potential benefits and losses, a detailed outline of what had led to this conclusion. But his mind was so hazy from all the champagne, Viktor scolded himself for having more than one glass.

It was an impossible command for Jayce. He was able to do anything, but ‘wait’ right then. Mindful of his fresh injury, Jayce pulled Viktor up to straddle his lap, their torsos touching through the horrible layers of clothing. He hated clothes so much in that moment.

Jayce kissed him again, deeply, hungrily, a quiet urgency that neither of them had anticipated. Their lips moved together in a rhythm that felt both natural and uncharted, as though they had crossed an invisible line they hadn’t even known existed. Jayce’s hands cupped Viktor’s ass, pressing him down on himself, the bulge in his pants painfully swollen. Viktor’s hips bucked, he couldn’t help it—it embarrassed him completely, but another thing he couldn’t help was a breathy moan escaping his mouth. What had just happened?

“Fuck, Jayce,” Viktor mumbled straight into Jayce’s mouth. “What is… this?” he stated more than asked, breaking the kiss but keeping their faces close together, their foreheads and noses touching, their mouths panting.

“I don’t know,” Jayce breathed, his voice soft but steady, his hands still holding Viktor close, fingers splayed against his back. “But it feels... good.”

His chest tightened as he felt Viktor’s breath hitch, the conflict so clear in his partner’s eyes, despite the way their bodies pressed together in a dizzying, heated closeness. The tension between them was palpable—an uncomfortable, unspoken ache that neither of them could address right now. The weight of their clothes, the awkwardness of their embrace, felt suffocating as if there was too much space to fill but not enough to move. Viktor’s sharp inhale vibrated through Jayce’s chest, and he noticed how stiff Viktor’s shoulders were, like he was trying to hold himself back.

Jayce could feel the conflict in the tightness of Viktor’s arms, the way his body was taut against him as if he were bracing for something. It made Jayce’s heart race, his mind swirling with uncertainty, but his arms were already instinctively pulling Viktor in tighter. His face pressed into Viktor’s neck, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him—a mix of iron, wood, and something uniquely Viktor. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” Viktor said, his voice strained, as though he were forcing the words out through a clenched jaw. He pulled back just enough to look Jayce in the eyes, and there was a flicker of hesitation before he spoke again. “It’s best if we get some rest. We can’t... I can’t...” Viktor’s voice caught in his throat, the words stumbling out as if they were too heavy to say.

Jayce’s heart sank, a dull ache in his chest at the thought of pulling away. He understood. He knew Viktor wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure of what had just happened, wasn’t sure of what he wanted. It was too much. Too fast. Jayce nodded, slow and resigned, but the words didn’t come immediately. His body was still pressed against Viktor’s, still drunk on the warmth of him, the touch, the kiss that had stolen all their breath.

“It’s okay,” Jayce said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I understand.”

But as Viktor began to shift back, preparing to pull away, Jayce’s hand tightened around his waist, stopping him. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

“Just... give me a minute more of this,” Jayce said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, as though the words were torn from him. His head dipped back into Viktor’s neck, inhaling deeply, the scent of him filling his lungs. He breathed him in like he was trying to hold onto the moment, as if if he let go now, it would all slip away.

Viktor stiffened slightly, but Jayce didn’t let go. He just held him tighter, his arms now wrapped fully around Viktor’s back, pulling him closer. And Viktor, though he hesitated for a brief moment, let himself be held.

In that moment, Jayce didn’t want to think about the future, about what this meant, or the next steps. He just wanted the quiet comfort of Viktor’s presence, the feeling of his body against his own, the intimacy of this fragile, fleeting moment that felt like something he never wanted to end.

Later, in their separate rooms, sleep eluded them. The night stretched long, each of them turning over in their own bed, replaying the evening over and over in their foggy minds. Viktor’s head throbbed from the champagne, but it was the kiss that lingered, the warmth of Jayce’s hands, the desperate pull of something he couldn’t name.

Across the hall, Jayce lay wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling, the taste of Viktor still sharp on his lips. His heart raced with the memory of their closeness, the breathless tension that had filled the room. He knew he should sleep, but the moment kept replaying in his mind, teasing him with the questions he didn’t know how to answer. Neither of them could shake the memory, the yearning that now hung between them like an unsaid truth, and neither of them could bring themselves to confront it, not yet.

***

They were both late the next day. Jayce, the ever-thoughtful Jayce, brought the coffees and breakfast to the workshop, only to find Viktor slumped against the desk, napping.

Jayce’s heart swelled momentarily with the memory of last night still lingering, but he managed to speak. “Do I dare check for your pulse?” he joked, approaching Viktor with the coffee first—one could never be too cautious.

“It should be in your best interest that I still have a pulse, otherwise the blood would be on your hands, Jayce,” Viktor groaned, his voice muffled against the workbench. “This is agonizing. The one thing in my body that worked without fault is now failing me.” Another dramatic whine made Jayce laugh. “You’ve broken me, Jayce. No more Hextech, no more genius mind,” Viktor kept whining, his hand blindly roaming the space in front of him, searching for the coffee.

“It can’t be that bad. I’ve brought food. Will that grant me your forgiveness?” Jayce asked, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he set the breakfast down in front of Viktor.

“Ugh, no, I can barely keep my insides... well, inside,” Viktor groaned, his voice thick with discomfort. He slowly lifted his head from the workbench, blinking against the harsh light. But beneath his words, his mind was racing.

He knew exactly how much he'd had to drink, and he knew the effects were still there. But the last thing he wanted was for Jayce to think he was still reeling from the night. So, he lied—an easy lie, one that masked the overwhelming truth. How did we get so drunk? I can’t remember a thing, he told himself, but his mind replayed every second of it. The kiss. Jayce's arms around him. The feeling of something more lingering in the air, unspoken and unresolved. It haunted him, but Viktor buried it beneath the weight of a half-hearted chuckle. "How did we get so drunk? I can’t remember a thing," he repeated aloud, his hand slowly making its way toward the food as if it could somehow pull him away from his thoughts.

Jayce’s heart literally sank at Viktor’s words, the lightness in his chest suddenly replaced by a heavy knot. He forced a chuckle, brushing the unease aside. Of course, Viktor couldn’t remember… Of course. But he played along, trying to keep things light. “Well, we talked about Hextech, and the future. Grand plans, all that. Nothing too exciting," he added with a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Viktor, still half-dazed, blinked at him slowly, as if he was trying to pull the threads of last night together. He took a sip of the coffee Jayce had brought him, his eyes narrowing with a hint of disbelief. “I can’t believe our dream is actually about to come true,” Viktor murmured, shaking his head as if the reality of it was just starting to sink in.

Jayce’s expression faltered, a subtle sadness flashing across his face before he could mask it. “Yeah, it will,” he said quietly, his voice betraying a wistful edge. “Our dream will come true now.” He paused, his gaze distant for a moment, as if the weight of the moment was pressing in on him. But there was another, smaller dream, too. One that had lingered in the back of it all. Jayce had gotten a glimpse of it coming true last night as well. He scolded himself for letting it slip through his fingers.

[cloudyluun]

Backstage Serenade | harry styles x reader

Summary: What starts as just another concert night takes an unexpected turn when Harry Styles himself locks eyes with Y/N from the stage. A fleeting glance turns into an invitation, and soon she finds herself navigating the intoxicating world behind the curtain. As the night unfolds—from backstage whispers to stolen moments in a city that never sleeps—Y/N realizes that some dreams don’t just stay fantasies. But with the weight of his fame pressing down on their growing connection, she’s left wondering: is this just a fleeting moment, or the start of something more?

A/N: Ahh, finally sharing this! I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while, and I couldn’t resist bringing it to life. I wanted to capture the thrill, the tension, and that electric pull of meeting someone you’ve only ever admired from afar. Hope you all enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! Let me know what you think, and if you want a part two, my inbox is always open. 💫 If you want to be on the taglist: click here!

Word Count: 5,4k

Warnings: Smut (oral sex, protected sex), explicit language, alcohol consumption, a little bit of power imbalance, and way too much tension

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Y/N could barely hear her own thoughts over the thunderous roar of the crowd. The arena was alive, a pulse of sound and light that seemed to vibrate down to her very bones. The opening chords of “Music for a Sushi Restaurant” played, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Almost 20,000 voices screamed as one, and Y/N found herself swept up in the tidal wave of energy.

Harry Styles. His name alone sent ripples through her chest, but seeing him there, in the flesh, was something else entirely. He didn’t just walk onto the stage; he owned it, like he’d been born to live under the kaleidoscope of lights. Sequins shimmered on his emerald-green suit, the jacket tailored to perfection, hugging his shoulders and cinching at his waist. The open shirt revealed a tease of his tattooed chest, and Y/N wasn’t the only one mesmerized by the sight.

“He’s so…” Y/N trailed off, not finding the words as she clutched the barricade in front of her.

“Unreal,” Lily finished for her, shouting to be heard over the music. Her friend was already dancing, swaying to the beat, her phone raised high to record.

Harry moved with an effortless grace, every step in time with the music, every gesture pulling the crowd deeper under his spell. When he stepped forward to greet the audience, gripping the mic stand with one hand and holding out the other as if to invite them all closer, the crowd surged forward in response.

The lights shifted, bathing him in golden hues as he grinned wide. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” His voice echoed through the arena, low and smooth, sending a new wave of cheers rippling through the audience.

“God, I love him,” Lily sighed, clutching Y/N’s arm dramatically. “He’s like… not real, you know?”

Y/N laughed, her gaze never leaving him. “Not real, but somehow even better in person.”

“Exactly,” Lily agreed. “Do you think he knows how insane he makes us?”

“I think he lives for it,” Y/N replied, her smile widening as Harry chuckled at something a fan yelled from the pit. He leaned down to read a sign, squinting playfully.

“What’s this?” he said, pointing at a colorful poster held high. “‘Marry me, Harry?’” The crowd screamed louder. Harry grinned, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it, darling. You’ll have to ask my mum first, though.”

The laughter was deafening, and Y/N found herself grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. He moved to another side of the stage, plucking a boa someone had tossed onto it and draping it over his shoulders with dramatic flair. The crowd erupted in cheers again.

It was during “Golden” that everything changed.

The lights dimmed, casting a warm, dreamlike glow over the stage. Harry’s voice poured through the speakers, rich and full of emotion, and Y/N found herself swaying without thinking, caught up in the melody.

Then it happened.

Harry’s gaze swept the crowd, a casual, almost lazy motion. Y/N felt the breath catch in her throat when his eyes landed on hers. For a moment, it felt like the world tilted, as if time slowed just enough for her to truly feel the weight of his gaze. His lips curled into a grin, dimples carving into his cheeks, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say I see you.

“Is he—?” Lily nudged her hard, almost making her stumble. “Y/N, he’s looking at you. Oh my God.”

“No, he’s not,” Y/N muttered, though her voice betrayed her disbelief. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, her fingers tightening around the barricade.

“He is! Look at him, he’s doing it again!” Lily squealed.

And he was. Y/N’s heart raced as Harry’s gaze found hers once more, lingering just long enough to make her stomach flip. The playful smirk on his lips deepened, and as he sang the chorus, it felt impossibly personal.

“Throw him your bra!” Lily joked, laughing as Y/N swatted her arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that bubbled out of her.

By the time the song ended, Y/N felt like she was floating. She barely registered Harry’s transition into the next song, too caught up in replaying that fleeting moment over and over in her mind. Surely it hadn’t been real. Surely she’d imagined it. But the way her heart was pounding told her otherwise.

During a pause between songs, Harry addressed the crowd again, leaning on the mic stand. “I see some great signs out there tonight,” he said, his accent curling around the words. “What’s that one say? ‘Dump him, marry me’? Blunt, but effective.” He laughed, pointing to another. “‘Sing Medicine or we riot.’ No riots tonight, alright? But I’ll think about it.”

The fans screamed in delight, and Harry held up his hands. “Alright, alright. You’re all brilliant. I love you.”

“I love you more!” someone screamed, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as Harry mimicked throwing a kiss to the audience.

The rest of the show passed in a blur of music and euphoria, each song pulling Y/N deeper into a dreamlike state. When the final chords of “Sign of the Times” echoed through the arena, the energy reached its peak. Confetti rained down, the crowd erupting in cheers as Harry took his final bow.

“That was insane,” Y/N said breathlessly as the lights began to brighten. She turned to Lily, who looked equally dazed. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

“Over?” Lily said, shaking her head. “Y/N, the way he was looking at you, he saw you. He really saw you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not! He looked at you like he wanted to—” Lily’s words were cut off as a man in a sleek black suit approached them, clipboard in hand.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, addressing Y/N directly. “Harry would like to invite you backstage.”

Y/N froze. For a moment, she thought she must have misheard. “What?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The man smiled knowingly. “If you’d like, you can follow me.”

Lily grabbed her arm, her grip tight. “You have to go,” she said, her voice urgent. “Oh my God, Y/N. You have to.”

Y/N turned to her friend, her heart pounding. “Are you sure?”

“Are you kidding me?” Lily practically shoved her forward. “Go! I’ll be fine. You’re about to live every fan’s dream.”

With one last glance at Lily, Y/N nodded and turned to follow the man. Her mind was spinning as she was led through the maze of hallways, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. She couldn’t believe it—Harry Styles wanted to see her.

--

The backstage area was an entirely different world, quiet compared to the roaring chaos of the concert, yet humming with an energy just as potent. The air felt heavier here, charged with the kind of anticipation that made Y/N’s heart race. She tugged at the hem of her sequined top, feeling both underdressed and inexplicably out of place amidst the polished setting. But the butterflies swirling in her stomach left little room for self-consciousness.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called out, warm and distinctly British, cutting through her anxious thoughts like a melody.

Her head snapped up, and there he was.

Harry Styles.

He stood just a few feet away, clad in a simple white tee and black jeans that hung low on his hips, damp hair pushed back like he’d stepped out of a dream. The boyish charm he’d carried on stage was still present, but up close, there was something more intense about him. His green eyes locked onto hers, and his lips curled into a grin that could have melted ice.

“Hi,” he said, the word stretching into a low hum as he closed the distance between them.

“Hi,” she managed to squeak out, then immediately cursed herself for sounding like a schoolgirl meeting her crush. She straightened her posture, willing her nerves to settle.

Harry chuckled softly, the dimples she’d admired from afar deepening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Glad you made it. Thought you might’ve run off.”

“As if I’d pass this up,” Y/N shot back, her voice gaining steadiness as a boldness bubbled to the surface.

He laughed, tilting his head as if reassessing her. “Good answer.”

They began to talk, the conversation flowing like they were old friends reconnecting. He asked her about the concert, what songs she loved, and she asked him how it felt performing to such a massive crowd. His charm was effortless, and his focus never wavered from her, his gaze trailing her lips when she spoke, dipping down to the exposed skin at her collarbone before snapping back to her eyes.

“So,” he said, leaning back against the leather couch, his legs spreading slightly as he rested his hands on his thighs. “Was I any good tonight?”

“Any good?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You know you’re incredible. Stop fishing for compliments.”

His grin widened, but there was something darker behind his gaze now, a spark that sent a jolt of heat through her. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

The tension between them thickened, palpable in the space that seemed to shrink with every passing second. Y/N felt the weight of his attention like a caress, and she decided to push just a little further.

“I didn’t just say it. I think I screamed it. Along with 20,000 other people,” she teased, leaning slightly closer. “But if you need me to spell it out for you…”

“Careful, love,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “I might hold you to that.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could hear was the faint thrum of blood rushing in her ears. She was used to being the one in control, the one who could brush off nerves with wit and charm, but Harry Styles had her unraveling with just a look.

The spell broke when Harry stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Come with me,” he said casually, like it wasn’t a request but an inevitability.

“Where?” she asked, though she was already following him.

“Somewhere quieter,” he said, holding a door open for her. “Can’t have our conversation interrupted, can we?”

--

The black SUV whisked them away from the venue, the glow of city lights flashing through the tinted windows like fleeting stars. Y/N sat beside him, acutely aware of every breath he took, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the cool leather interior. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket as she tried to distract herself from the warmth radiating off his body.

Harry’s knee brushed hers whenever the car turned, each accidental touch sending sparks down her spine. She kept her gaze fixed out the window, though the reflection of his silhouette caught her eye. He was relaxed, his arm draped casually across the seat, his other hand scrolling through his phone.

“Do you always kidnap your fans like this?” she asked, breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Only the ones who look like trouble.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Who says I’m trouble?”

“I can tell,” he replied, leaning back in his seat with an air of confidence that made her stomach flip. His gaze swept over her, not hurried or obvious, but enough to make her cheeks flush. “You’ve got that look in your eye.”

“What look?” she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry tilted his head, his smirk widening. “The one that says you’re about to make my life very complicated.”

Her laugh came easily, though she tried to play it off with a shrug. “Maybe you’re the one making things complicated. You did whisk me away in your SUV like some modern-day James Bond.”

“James Bond, huh?” he mused, his dimple deepening. “I’ll take it. Though I’d like to think I’m more charming than him.”

“That’s debatable,” she teased, biting her lip to hide her grin.

Harry let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating in the small space. “Careful, love. You’re starting to sound like you want to test that theory.”

“Maybe I do,” she shot back, meeting his gaze with more boldness than she felt.

His eyes darkened slightly, the playful glint shifting into something heavier. “Dangerous game, Y/N.”

Before she could respond, the SUV slowed to a stop in front of a small diner, its neon sign flickering “OPEN 24 HOURS” in bold red letters.

“This is where you’re taking me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she looked out the window.

Harry grinned, already opening his door. “Trust me. You’ll like it.”

--

The diner smelled of fried food and syrup, its decor an unapologetic homage to decades past. Sticky vinyl booths, checkered floors, and a jukebox playing an old rock tune filled the space. The handful of patrons turned their heads as Harry walked in, his hand resting lightly on Y/N’s lower back as he guided her to a booth.

“Not exactly the five-star treatment I was expecting,” she teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

He shrugged, settling in with an easy smile. “Five stars are overrated. This place has the best milkshakes in the city.”

The server, an older woman with a warm smile, approached their table. Her eyes flicked to Harry, widening slightly in recognition, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she handed them menus and greeted them cheerfully.

“What’s good here?” Y/N asked, flipping through the laminated pages.

“Everything,” Harry said without hesitation. “But you have to try the strawberry milkshake. It’s life-changing.”

Y/N smirked. “Life-changing? That’s a bold claim.”

“Prove me wrong,” he challenged, leaning back in his seat.

When the server returned, Harry ordered the strawberry milkshake and a burger with bacon, avocado, and a mountain of fries. Y/N opted for a chocolate milkshake, a grilled cheese, and a side of sweet potato fries.

As the server walked away, Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Chocolate, huh? Thought you’d be more adventurous than that.”

“Chocolate is a classic,” she said, feigning offense. “You’re just upset because I didn’t take your recommendation.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a laugh. “But I’ll win you over. Wait and see.”

The conversation flowed easily as they waited for their food, the playful banter peppered with stolen glances that lingered a little too long.

When their milkshakes arrived, Y/N took a sip, savoring the rich, creamy flavor. “Okay, this is good,” she admitted, licking a bit of whipped cream from her straw.

Harry watched her, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Told you,” he said, his voice lower now. “Though I still think you’d like mine better.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Try it,” he said, pushing his glass toward her.

She hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. The sweetness of the strawberry hit her tongue, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Alright, you win this round.”

Harry’s grin widened, but the moment was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter. Y/N glanced toward the corner of the diner, where a pair of teenagers were not-so-subtly snapping photos with their phones.

Her shoulders stiffened, and Harry immediately noticed. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, though her fingers fidgeted with her straw.

Harry frowned, his jaw tightening. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to let them ruin this.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips curved into a small smile. “I like how you handle yourself.”

She smirked, relaxing slightly. “I’d say the same about you, but you’re clearly used to the attention.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” he admitted, his gaze flicking briefly to the teenagers before returning to her. “But right now, they don’t matter. You do.”

Her breath caught at the intensity in his voice, and she quickly looked down at her plate to hide the blush creeping up her neck.

As they ate, the tension between them shifted, becoming something warmer, heavier. Harry stole one of her fries, smirking when she glared at him, and she retaliated by swiping one of his.

“You’re trouble,” he said, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Think you can handle it?” she asked, licking a bit of salt from her fingers.

His gaze darkened slightly, his smile softening. “I’m counting on it.”

--

By the time they left the diner, the tension between them was practically crackling in the air. Outside, a small group of fans had gathered, their phones snapping pictures as Harry slid his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer than necessary.

“You okay with this?” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

“More than okay,” she replied, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

The SUV was waiting at the curb, and as they climbed in, the space between them felt electric. Harry’s hand found hers almost immediately, his fingers lacing through hers as he leaned closer.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his lips brushing against her temple.

She didn’t. Instead, she turned to him fully, her free hand curling into the front of his shirt as she pulled him into a kiss.

It started soft, almost tentative, but quickly deepened as Harry’s hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. The kiss was messy and desperate, filled with a hunger that made her head spin.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Harry’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Guess that means you don’t want me to stop.”

“Not even a little,” she whispered, her voice shaky with anticipation.

The rest of the drive blurred into stolen kisses and teasing touches, Harry’s hand trailing along her thigh in a way that left her dizzy. By the time they reached his suite, the promise of what was to come hung heavy in the air.

Harry didn’t let go of her hand as they made their way to the elevator, his thumb brushing small circles against her palm. The ride up was silent, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. When the doors opened, he guided her inside, his hand never leaving hers.

By the time Harry reached the bedroom, Y/N was already breathless, her fingers tangled in his hair as his lips moved possessively along her neck. He kicked the door shut behind him, the sound barely registering in her ears over the pounding of her heartbeat.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he rasped, his voice thick with desire as he gently laid her on the bed. His hands roamed over her body, firm but deliberate, as though he were mapping every inch of her.

Her pulse quickened as his gaze swept over her, dark and predatory, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “You’re stunning, love. Absolutely stunning.”

Y/N’s hands found the hem of his shirt, and she tugged it upward, eager to see the tattoos she’d only glimpsed before. Harry smirked as he helped her, tossing the shirt to the side. Her eyes traced the lines of ink that adorned his chest and arms, the sight making her breath hitch.

“You’re staring,” he teased, leaning down to capture her lips again.

“Can you blame me?” she shot back, her voice trembling slightly as her hands explored the hard planes of his chest.

Harry chuckled, low and rough, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. “I’d say we’re even.”

Before she could reply, his hands slid beneath her shirt, the warmth of his palms against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. He pulled the fabric upward, his eyes darkening as more of her was revealed. When the shirt joined his on the floor, Harry leaned back, his gaze hungry as it roamed over her.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent as he traced the curve of her waist. His hands moved to the clasp of her bra, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Can I?”

She nodded, her breath catching as he unhooked it with practiced ease. The straps slid down her arms, and Harry wasted no time, his lips trailing down her neck and across her collarbone.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire as his mouth closed around one peak, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin. Y/N gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair as he lavished attention on her, his free hand teasing the other.

“Harry,” she moaned, her back arching off the bed as his teeth grazed her nipple, the sensation sending sparks straight to her core.

His lips curved against her skin as he moved lower, his hands tugging at the waistband of her jeans. “I want to taste every inch of you,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.

Her heart raced as she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the fabric down her legs. She was left in nothing but her underwear, her skin prickling with anticipation as his eyes devoured her.

“Beautiful,” he muttered, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along her stomach, his stubble grazing her sensitive skin. His fingers hooked into the sides of her underwear, and he paused, his gaze locking onto hers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I’m sure.”

Harry pulled the fabric down slowly, the deliberate pace leaving her squirming beneath him. He spread her thighs, his hands warm and firm as they settled on her hips. The look in his eyes was enough to make her heart stop, a mix of hunger and adoration that left her completely undone.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re so perfect.”

Before she could reply, his lips pressed against her inner thigh, his tongue leaving a trail of fire as he moved closer to where she needed him most. When his mouth finally closed over her, she cried out, her hands clutching the sheets as a wave of pleasure coursed through her.

Harry groaned against her, the vibration sending another jolt of electricity through her body. His tongue moved with precision, alternating between soft, teasing licks and firm pressure that had her gasping for air.

“You taste like heaven,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he slipped a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate. Y/N’s hips bucked against him, her moans growing louder as he added another finger, curling them in just the right way.

“Oh my god, Harry,” she gasped, her hands reaching for him.

“That’s it, love,” he rasped, his lips returning to her clit. “Let go for me.”

The tension in her body built rapidly, every stroke of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers driving her closer to the edge. When her orgasm hit, it was explosive, her body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Harry didn’t stop, his movements carrying her through every pulse until she was left breathless and trembling.

When he finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening, he smirked down at her. “You’re even more beautiful when you fall apart.”

“Harry,” she breathed, her voice shaky as she reached for him.

He leaned down, kissing her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips, the intimacy of it sending another shiver through her.

“We’re not done yet, love,” he murmured, his voice a low growl as he shed the rest of his clothes.

Harry’s body was a masterpiece of sinew and ink, every line and curve illuminated by the soft light spilling into the room. Y/N’s breath hitched as he crawled over her, his gaze never leaving hers. The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress, grounding her even as her heart raced wildly in her chest.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. His voice was soft, but there was an edge of hunger in it that made her shiver.

She reached out, her hands exploring the hard planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. Her fingers traced the tattoos that decorated his skin, lingering on the swallows at his collarbone.

“Do you always take your time like this?” she teased, though her voice was shaky with anticipation.

Harry’s lips quirked into a smirk, his nose brushing against hers. “Only when it’s worth savoring.”

He kissed her again, slower this time, his tongue sweeping against hers in a way that left her lightheaded. His hands slid down her sides, gripping her thighs as he shifted between them. Y/N felt the hard length of him pressing against her, and her breath caught.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

“It won’t be,” she replied, her voice trembling but certain. “I want you, Harry.”

His pupils dilated, and a low growl escaped his throat. “You’re going to ruin me, love.”

He reached into the bedside drawer, retrieving a condom and tearing the foil open with his teeth. Y/N watched, mesmerized, as he rolled it on with practiced ease, his gaze flicking back to hers.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“Yes,” she whispered, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Harry guided himself to her entrance, pausing for a moment as his eyes searched hers. Then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, filling her inch by inch. The stretch was intense but exquisite, her body accommodating him as though he were made to fit her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. “You’re so tight.”

Y/N moaned softly, her fingers digging into his back as she adjusted to the fullness. “You feel... amazing.”

He stilled for a moment, giving her time to catch her breath before he began to move. His thrusts were slow and deliberate at first, each one hitting a spot deep inside her that made her toes curl. The way he filled her, stretched her, left her gasping with every movement.

“You feel incredible,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “So perfect. Taking me so well.”

The words sent a rush of heat through her, and she arched into him, her nails dragging down his back. “Harry,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he growled, his pace quickening.

The room filled with the sounds of their passion—soft gasps, low groans, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Harry’s hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing tight circles that made her cry out.

“Come for me,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you.”

The pressure building inside her finally snapped, and she shattered beneath him, her body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Harry groaned as she clenched around him, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her one last time, his orgasm overtaking him.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. Harry pressed a gentle kiss to her temple before rolling to the side, pulling her with him so she was draped across his chest.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along her spine.

“So are you,” she replied, her voice soft as she nuzzled into him.

They lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. Y/N felt safe, cherished, and completely at ease in his arms.

Harry tilted her chin up, his green eyes searching hers. “Stay tonight,” he said, his voice low but certain.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at the quiet vulnerability in his gaze. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

Harry’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, and he pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was calming, and his hand running soothingly along her back made her feel cared for in a way that was almost overwhelming.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured after a moment, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

“I’m just…” she hesitated, her voice catching in her throat as she lifted her gaze to his. “I’m still trying to believe this is real.”

Harry’s expression softened, his fingers tilting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “It’s real, love. Every second of it.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, but her cheeks flushed. “I mean, you’re Harry Styles. You’re... you.”

“And you’re you,” he said simply, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “That’s all I care about right now. Just you.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, and she felt her eyes sting. Before she could respond, Harry shifted, gently easing her onto her back and disappearing from the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Stay there,” he said softly, padding toward the bathroom.

Y/N lay still, her body warm and relaxed but her mind spinning. She was in Harry’s bed. Harry Styles’ bed. It felt impossible, like something out of a dream.

When he returned, he was carrying a warm, damp cloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. The corners of his lips lifted in a faint smile when he saw the way her eyes tracked his every move.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, sitting beside her on the bed.

He handed her the water first, watching as she took a sip before setting it on the nightstand. Then, with a tenderness that made her chest ache, he used the cloth to clean her skin, his touch unhurried and reverent.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, though she made no move to stop him.

“I want to,” he replied simply, his gaze meeting hers for a brief moment before he focused on his task again. “You deserve to be looked after.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, her heart swelling at the care in his movements. When he finished, he set the cloth aside and climbed back into bed, pulling her into his arms.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft as he tucked the blanket around them both.

“Much,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

They lay there for a while, the silence broken only by the occasional sound of the city outside. Harry’s fingers trailed up and down her arm, his touch light and soothing.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a while, his voice a quiet rumble.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am. Just… overwhelmed, I think. In a good way.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “That’s all I want. For this to feel good for you. For you to feel good.”

“You’ve already done that,” she murmured, her fingers absently tracing patterns over his tattoos.

“Good,” he replied, his voice thick with affection. “Because tonight was just the start, love. I want to know everything about you. Take my time with you. No rush, no pressure. Just… us.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she tilted her head to meet his gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored her own, and for the first time, she felt like this was more than just a fleeting fantasy.

“I’d like that,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Then it’s settled,” he said with a soft smile, pulling her closer. “We’ll take this one step at a time.”

And as Y/N drifted off to sleep in his arms, she couldn’t help but think that no dream could ever compare to the reality of being with him.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist:

@oscahpastry

@mema10

@angelbabyyy99

@iloveharrystyles04

@cinemharry

@drwho06

[eeuni]

She fucked me so good that I almost said I love you.

blurb & smut

pet names!: sweet girl, baby girl, baby, princess

"don't move, baby." were billie's exact words. she positioned her strap on your wet pussy, you were already whimpering just by feeling the tip. you were definitely a mess in bed, billie had already stimulated you several times that night. "take it like the good girl that you are."

you tried to hold on to something nearby, and your tired hands fell to the sheets. billie started to enter slowly, you could feel everything. you were sensitive. "billie..." you sighed between wet sounds of her strap going in and out.

you looked at her and found her looking at you with bright eyes, a smile on her face. her beauty looked unreal. her tits swayed every time she moved, her hips marked a perfect figure, her half-open lips and her gaze showed how much she loved to make you feel good, loved, desired. her hands traveled down your legs, reaching your tits, squeezing them tightly.

"such a sweet girl taking mommy's cock." she whispered, moving closer to your neck to leave another mark. you couldn't stop whimpering with pleasure and at the same time with love. you looked at her with love. you couldn't imagine yourself like this with anyone else. "i-i'm close..." you tried to say, your mind was in its own world.

billie began to massage your clit quickly, moving her hips deliciously fast. she fucked you so good.

"mommy!" you began to feel a pressure on the walls of your legs, surrounding billie's strap. your back arched and you could swear you saw stars. "cum, baby girl." said billie desperately.

and you listened to her.

"i love you." you murmured, trying to catch your breath and wiping the tears from your face. "I love you more, my princess." billie spoke, caressing your waist, taking care of you.

a/n: yall tell me if you want me to do one of sub!billie and remember this is literally my first time writing and also english is not my first language. this is me trying girls. love u. btw this is for the person who told me they needed a blurb of this!!!

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ 𓍢 JIHYORURI 106 FM | jihyoruri 106 FM catalog for today brought to you by your very own jihyoruri! new music by kim minji will follow up next ; school!au , fluff, angst,

now playing: cool with you; by kim minji 1:35 ━━○───── 3:47 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

when yn first laid her eyes on kim minji, she was just amazed at how perfect the girl seemed to her.

minji wasn’t just pretty, she was effortlessly captivating, with an infectious laugh that made yn's heart skip a beat.

as class president, she commanded attention with a natural grace, but it was her confidence and charm that truly left yn in awe.

to yn, she seemed perfect in every way, almost unreal, and from that moment, she couldn't help but be drawn to her.

yn’s first conversation with minji would forever haunt her, a mess of embarrassment she couldn’t shake off, and she blamed it all on hanni.

“where are you taking me?” yn whispered urgently, the jingling charms on her backpack clinking with every hurried step. hanni’s grip on her wrist was relentless, nearly cutting off circulation, as she dragged yn down the hallway without a word.

hanni stayed silent, her pace unrelenting. yn began to wonder if the school had installed a new vending machine, because honestly, that was the only logical reason she could think of for hanni to be acting like this.

but then it hit her. they weren’t heading toward the vending area; they were on a direct path to the guidance room, a place where kim minji practically lived.

yn’s heart sank. hanni knew about her crush on minji, which meant this was going to be a disaster.

“hanni, whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t,” yn pleaded, her voice laced with panic.

“just trust me bro,”

without warning, hanni shoved the door open, practically dragging yn inside before she could protest. yn’s heart raced as the familiar scent of the guidance room hit her, her pulse thudding in her ears.

“minji!” hanni called out confidently, her voice echoing through the room.

minji, sitting at her desk, barely looked up from her papers. “if this is about a new vending machine, I don’t want to hear it, I don’t have that kind of power,” she sighed, clearly exasperated.

hanni rolled her eyes. “actually, i’m here to introduce you to someone. remember how you said you needed a vice president? well, i’ve got the perfect candidate for you.” hanni gestured dramatically toward yn, whose face was quickly turning bright red.

minji finally looked up, her eyes landing on yn for the first time. surprise flickered across her face, and she slowly took yn in, her gaze lingering a moment longer than yn expected. “her?” minji asked, her voice soft, curiosity laced in her tone. “do you really think she'd be a good candidate?”

yn's throat went dry. this was her chance. she opened her mouth, but no coherent words came out—just a nervous jumble of sounds. “I, uh… I mean… maybe? I don’t—well, i’m not—”

she could hear hanni’s quiet snickering.

minji’s lips quirked up into a soft smile, clearly amused by yn’s flustered state. “that’s adorable,” she said, her voice gentle. “welcome, vice president.”

the start of the school year had been a whirlwind for yn. after what hanni thought was an hilarious awkward introduction, she and minji had spent months side by side as class president and vice president.

they became inseparable, studying together, planning school events, and even hanging out on weekends. minji’s playful teasing and lingering looks made yn's heart race, and more than once, yn felt like there might be something more between them.

but just when things were starting to feel real, yn’s close friend outside of hanni chaeyoung, threw a wrench into her thoughts.

“yn,” chaeyoung began hesitantly one afternoon, her cheeks turning pink as she twirled a strand of hair nervously. “I… I need to tell you something.”

yn looked up, curious. “what’s up?”

chaeyoung bit her lip, glancing away before taking a deep breath. “I kind of have a crush on someone. like, a huge crush.”

yn smiled, leaning in with a playful nudge. “really? who is it? do I know them?”

chaeyoung nodded, her blush deepening. “yeah, you… you know her really well.” she hesitated, then murmured, “it’s… it’s minji.”

yn’s smile froze, her stomach twisting. “m-minji?”

“yeah.” chaeyoung’s face was filled with hope as she looked at yn. “she’s just… so cool and smart and funny. I’ve been trying to talk to her, but it’s been hard, you know? I thought maybe… maybe you could help me? since you’re close with her.”

yn’s stomach twisted. she liked minji more than she’d ever admitted out loud, but she also wanted her friend to be happy. and, after all, maybe minji didn’t really like her that much… right?

yn forced a smile, trying to ignore the painful knot forming in her chest. “oh, um… yeah. I mean, I guess I could help.”

chaeyoung beamed, oblivious to yn’s inner stress. “thank you, yn! you’re the best. I just… really think she could like me, you know?”

yn’s heart sank, but she nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. “yeah… maybe she could.”

with a heavy heart, yn started putting effort into setting up chaeyoung and minji, brushing aside her own feelings.

she arranged casual hangouts where she’d subtly nudge minji and chaeyoung together, even though each time hurt more than the last. soon enough, a class trip to a theme park came up, and yn thought it’d be the perfect chance for them to grow closer.

the group reached the roller coaster, and yn tried pairing minji with chaeyoung for the ride. “you two go together! I’ll go with hanni,” she said, but hanni immediately backed away, shaking her head, wide-eyed with fear.

chaeyoung wasn’t much better. “sorry, yn… I’m kind of scared too.”

yn forced a smile. “okay, no problem! I’ll just go by myself—”

“wait,” minji interrupted, grabbing yn’s wrist gently. “I’ll go with you.”

as they climbed into the roller coaster, yn noticed how tightly minji was gripping the bar, her face paler than usual. “are you okay? you look terrified,” yn whispered.

minji gave a small laugh, her eyes darting nervously to the towering track ahead. “yeah I’m scared out of my mind,” she admitted. “but… I didn’t want you to go alone. I’d rather be here with you, even if it’s terrifying.”

yn’s heart swelled, and without thinking, she reached over and took minji’s hand. “I’ve got you,” she said softly, and they held hands through the entire ride, neither letting go until it was over.

as the evening wore on, yn and minji broke away from the group to get some drinks. they found a quiet bench under the glow of the theme park lights and sat together, the soft hum of the distant rides mixing with the calming night around them.

“I still can’t believe you went on that ride with me, even though you were scared,” yn said, shaking her head with a soft smile, trying to lighten the air between them.

minji looked down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I guess I’d do just about anything if it meant being with you.” she glanced up, her eyes locking with yn’s. after a brief silence, her voice dropped, more vulnerable than yn had ever heard. “yn… I really, really like you.”

yn’s heart seemed to stop mid-beat, her mind racing in a whirlwind of hope and panic. “no… you can’t,” she stammered, her hands trembling. “chaeyoung… she really likes you, minji. I was just trying to set you two up so she could have a chance.”

minji’s expression darkened, her brows knitting together in frustration as hurt flashed in her eyes. “yn, just because chaeyoung likes me doesn’t mean I have to like her back! why do you keep pushing me toward her when I’ve been trying to show you how much I care? why do think I’ve tagged along with you to all these places with her?”

yn shook her head, her vision blurring with unshed tears. “you don’t understand, minji. I’ve been trying so hard to do the right thing. chaeyoung’s my friend, she deserves to be happy, and… and you—” her voice cracked as tears began to fall.

“and what?” minji’s voice wavered, her own tears threatening to spill over. “and I don’t? you don’t? yn, you’ve been so busy thinking about chaeyoung that you haven’t even stopped to ask how I feel how we feel!”

“because it doesn’t matter!” yn cried, her voice breaking as she looked away, her hands gripping the bench to steady herself. “it doesn’t matter what I feel. I can’t hurt her like that. she’s one of my best friends.”

minji’s hands clenched into fists, her frustration mixing with the raw emotion in her voice. “it does matter, yn! it matters because I like you! not chaeyoung, not anyone else—you! why can’t you see that? why would I have accepted you as vice president when all you sis was stutter your ass off, I thought you were cute, and pretty.”

her voice cracked, tears now streaming down her face. “you keep trying to push me away, but it’s you I want.”

yn’s tears fell harder, and she shook her head again, her voice barely a whisper. “please… just stop. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

minji reached out, gently taking yn’s hand, her grip shaky but firm. “I’ll fight for you, yn. I don’t care how complicated this is, I’ll fight for us, because you’re worth it.”

before yn could process the words, minji leaned in, her lips meeting yn’s in a kiss that was tender yet filled with a desperate longing. yn’s heart surged, overwhelmed by the emotions flooding through her. but as minji pulled away, yn’s tears came faster.

“I… I can’t do this to her,” yn choked, pulling her hand from minji’s grasp. “it wouldn’t be fair. I’d be betraying her.”

minji’s face fell, her own tears falling freely now. “and what about us?” she asked, her voice trembling. “what about what we could be? are you really willing to let that go because of her crush?”

yn’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as she looked into minji’s pleading eyes. “I… I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

minji wiped her tears angrily, her frustration bubbling over. “and what about me, yn? I’m hurting too. just because chaeyoung likes me doesn’t mean i’m obligated to feel the same way. I’m telling you, right here, that I like you. isn’t that enough, do you like me?”

“yes.”

“then what’s the problem?!”

yn swallowed hard, her tears blurring her vision. “I can’t… I just can’t do that to her.”

minji let out a shaky breath, defeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “fine. if that’s how you really feel.” she stood up, wiping her face as she looked away, her heart clearly breaking. “let’s just… get back to the others.”

as they made their way back to the group, the silence between them was deafening, both painfully aware of what could have been, yet knowing that something precious had been shattered.

[seratopia]

vi x reader - get up

→ she/her pronouns!

vi thinks of you during the fight with sevika **note: you both loved eachother, back in the lanes. vi thinks you're dead. the last time she saw you was when you were both 17.

The slightest bit of dread starts to fill Vi's stomach when she sees Sevika's bubbling-hot blade pierce through the rickety pool table. The red from the blade is angry, glowing with melted residue dripping off of it. Vi quickly backs away from the table, throwing up her hands as to guard herself from the violent slashes of the sword.

Sevika slices through the table with ease, chopping up a triangle-shaped opening through the wood. As Sevika emerges from the burning-hot opening, she lazily throws her arm at Vi, sending a streak of hot light through the air.

Vi raises her gloves up, ducking her head down. With a smirk, Sevika mercilessly throws fiery slashes towards Vi, each of them growing larger by the second. Sevika marches straight into Vi, slamming down the scarlet blade down directly onto Vi's mech gloves. The gloves falter under the pressure, sending Vi's skin to bubble and blister from the heat.

Vi shrieks from the searing pain of the burn, just before Sevika pulls the knife away and throws a harsh punch to her face. With her vision slightly delayed from the blow, Vi throws a punch to Sevika. The woman sinks her metal fingers into Vi's arm, activating her blade to pierce straight through the mech glove.

Sparking and sputtering with HexTech electricity, the glove deactivates, thumping to the ground and bringing Vi with it. With Vi's hand still stuck in the heavy glove, Sevika takes the chance to hurl a hard punch to her face. Vi practically stumbles on the tips of her feet, the heaviness of the glove sending her face-first into the other side of the bar.

Sevika's arm conveniently starts to falter from so much heat, the bright purple glow beginning to flicker as she takes a few heavy breaths. Vi slumps to the ground, her face smushed into a mixture of bar floor and her own blood. Her brain is almost cloudy, where she could only hear the sound of her light breathing as she tries to refocus her vision.

There's the faintest flicker of you, a ghost of your glowing-white silhouette as her heavy eyelids begin to fall.

Almost, just almost, does Vi flutter her eyes closed, ready to give up.

"That was a real one." She hears you mutter, with a giggle at the end. Vi lets out a ghost of a chuckle.

A gentle, kind warmth fills her to her toes, drifting in blurred memories of you. Ones that are faded, altered, and distant. She's almost forgotten your face over the years, the sound of your cackle, how your skin feels against hers.

Vi hears the airy chuckle that she used to adore, picturing the way you used to laugh when she'd tease you back in the lanes. Your sweet, sugary voice practically pulls her mind awake, cracking open her eyes just the tiniest bit.

You're sat up top the counter, lightly swinging your legs up and down as you peer down at Vi with a tiny smile. She doesn't see you, but feels you nearby.

"I wish I could be there too, y'know?" You start, pausing your leg-swinging. "I'm sorry, Vi. I know it's hard." You almost whisper.

Vi sighs in response, tempted to twist her neck up in forbidden ways just to catch of glimpse of you. Are you really there? Did you come back from the dead? Did you miss her like she misses you?

You then step down from your seat at the counter, making no sound as you lightly kneel closer to her, placing your hands on the floor. She sees a hint of your hand at most, glowing pure white, unreal. You tenderly swipe away a lock of her pink hair away from her bloodied face, laying your cheek against your knee as you peer down at Vi.

For a moment, she forgets all about Sevika, basking in the warmth of your touch.

"She needs you... We need you. So, how about it, hm?" You say, bending down further so she can hear your quiet voice.

A light ignites in her silver eyes, slowly feeling her strength return to her. With a sigh, Vi squeezes her eyes shut. Despite all the pain, the deep ache in her arms, the gravity pulling her down to the floor, Vi pushes herself up with a groan. She spits out a gummy molar from her mouth, letting thick red blood drip from her nose.

Straining her arms to push herself up, Vi slowly raises her head, her eyes traveling from your knees, all the way up to your face. It doesn't seem real for a moment, seeing your smiling self as clear as day. Vi gazes into your eyes with an awed expression, her brows softened and her lips slightly parted.

You're beautiful, as young as the day she lost you.

With your eyes half-lidded, you slowly press your body forward, taking Vi's chin in your hand and pressing a tender kiss to her lips. Vi savors the feeling of your lips against hers; she forgets to move. Her eyes almost flutter shut again.

The kiss ends as soon as it starts, before you step back up to your full height. Vi peers up at you, and you give her a small nod, gesturing with a flick of your hand.

Her legs shake, her arms twitch, but Vi rises, pulling the heavy weight of the gloves with her. With a roll of her right shoulder, Vi stands back to her full height. She savors your appearance in front of her, wondering how long it'll be before you're gone again. She doesn't want you to go, whether you're real or not.

Giving you one last faithful look, you salute to her a goodbye. She slowly turns back towards Sevika.

Vi drops the broken glove onto the ground with a loud thud. Sevika's face twists into shock when she sees Vi, who spits out onto the floor and returns to her guard position.

"Go get 'em, Vi."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[pretty-circa006]

OKAY imagine IMAGINE reader sees negan/jeffrey naked for the first time AND sees his chest full of chest hair THENNNN nakedly grinds on his chest

Negan x F! Reader

tags nudity, smut, grinding, chest hair fetish i think??

note i did my best, i hope you like it

wc 1.5k

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

Negan sits at the head of the table with Lucille in hand and his leather jacket resting on the back of his metal chair. He’s explaining something, likely what the Saviors’ next move against Alexandria is going to be, but it all flies above her head. Her eyes watch his lips as they move in tune with his words, his hazel eyes as they alternate eye contact with each Savior at the table, and occasionally glance down at what parts of his body were visible above the table. 

“Ya get all that, darlin’?” He asks, looking at her. 

“Oh..yeah! Uh huh. Yes…sir,” she lies. The deadpan look Negan sends her way tells her that he is not convinced, and honestly, neither is she. She bashfully looks away from him and down at the table, this time actually trying to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. 

With a bang of his barb wired bat to the metal table, he dismisses everyone as he gets up and leaves, too. She's the last one out of the room, partly because she didn't want to meet Negan's eye on the way out but mainly because she wanted to watch him as he left. Before she can leave the room something catches her eye—Negan's jacket. She looks around the room, making sure it's empty before walking over to his chair and grabbing the expensive looking leather garment. She picks it up and it almost feels unreal to be holding it. She hesitantly brings it up to her nose and breathes in the scent: leather and manliness. She could get lost in it and almost does, but she quickly remembers the task at hand and rushes out the room to catch up to Negan. 

With the jacket cradled in her arms, she hurries down the halls in search of the man in charge—he's nowhere to be seen. She sees his right hand, Simon, walking idly down the hall. 

"Wait, Simon. Do you know where Negan went?" she asks him. The mustached man's eyes drift down to the jacket in her arms and back up to her eyes with suspicion. 

"What're you doin' with Negan's jacket," he questions, reaching down for it as he does. She clutches it closer and moves it out of reach. 

"He left it in the meeting room, so I'm bringin' it back to him. Do you know where he went?" 

"I can give it to him, it's no trouble." 

Annoyed with Simon's insistence, she sidesteps him and storms down the hall, protectively clutching the jacket. 

"I'll handle it, thanks!" 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Nobody said anything when she knocked on his bedroom door, so she waited a second. She knocks again and yields the same results. She tries the doorknob and surprisingly, it gives, opening the door and letting her into his bedroom. Until now, she'd never been in his room. The sheer luxury of it all strikes her with awe. The king sized bed, the leather couches and chairs, the tall windows and dark curtains, even when the world was normal she's never seen anything anything like this. 

The sound of Negan's voice saying her name snapped her attention away from the room and onto him. He's standing in the middle of the room, practically naked other than the towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips. His tattoos are on full display along with the salt and pepper hair on his torso. Unintentionally, her eyes drift down his body to his belly button, to his v line, and even his–

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart," he reminds her, forcing her eyes to meet his hazel ones. 

"Ah, shit! Sorry, I umm..." 

"The hell are ya doin' in my bedroom?" he asks. 

"You left your jacket," she holds the jacket out to him, to which he accepts. 

"Thanks..." He still looks at her suspiciously as she awkwardly rocks on her heels and doesn't leave. 

"Uh, you're dismissed." She's about to turn and leave, but the sound of fabric hitting the floor keeps her there. Her face burns with heat and eyes widen as she makes eye contact with his dick. He always brags about his size, but now she has proof that he was never exaggerating. Negan doesn't make any moves to grab his towel nor cover himself, instead, he's smirking at her, amused by wide eyes and dropped jaw. Subconsciously, her thighs squeeze together at the feeling of heat pooling in her core.  

"Y'alright, darlin'?" he asks out of amusement rather than concern. She blinks rapidly as her mouth opens and closes but no words come out. Her eyes alternate from meeting his to dropping down to his penis again. 

"S-sorry! Sorry!" she apologizes as she covers her eyes with her hands. The attempt to cover her eyes is fruitless since she's looking through the gaps in her fingers anyway.

"Like watcha see?" he teases. He half expects her embarrassment to take over and for her to run away, but instead she stands her ground and nods. 

"Yes, s-sir." Her breathing is shallow as she shifts around trying to subtly sooth the needy ache in her throbbing pussy. Negan can tell that she wants him, needs him even, and honestly seeing her so needy and desperate is a turn on for him. 

"Well, you can either get the fuck outta my room or take your goddamn clothes off. The choice is yours, doll, but make it quick." 

He didn't have to ask her twice, she's already unbuttoning her jeans. In a rush, she clumsily toes off her shoes before stepping out of her pants and panties. She wishes she could've given Negan a show instead of the unsexy rush-job she's currently putting on but luckily for her, Negan finds her sex crazed desperation for him endearing. But she's taking a little too long for his liking. He approaches her and pulls her shirt over her head before unclasping her bra and discarding the items. 

"Holy shit, baby. You look downright fuckin' delicious," he compliments as he eyes her naked body from head to toe. His arms snake around her and pull her body into his. His hard length slides between her thighs, almost slotted between her lower lips. Her hands slide up his chest, her fingers weaving through the wispy hairs on his chest. By the back of her neck, he pulls her in for a heated kiss, teeth clashing as their tongues get to know each other's mouths. His hands slide down her back and around the curve of her ass before squeezing and kneading it in his hands. He holds her firmly and close as he thrusts his dick along her soft inner thighs. Their pleasured moans mix in their mouths which are still attached to each other. As they kiss, her hands never leave his chest. Her fingers continuously play with his chest hair and occasionally give it a gentle tug. 

He pulls away from the kiss, the string of saliva between them breaks. He looks down at her, his hazel eyes dark with lust. She looks back up at him, her eyes begging him to fuck her. 

"You like my chest hair, don't you, babydoll?" She just giggles but doesn't any anything and continues to doodle abstract swirls with her finger on his chest. 

"I asked you a goddamn question," he says sternly. 

"I do, sir." Without warning, he picks her up by the back of her thighs and she reflexively wraps her legs around his waist. While still holding her, he lays down on the bed with her now straddling his waist. 

"Get yourself off on it," he orders in a way that leaves no room for questions. But she has some anyway. 

"Wh...what?!" she asks through a bout of nervous laughter. 

"If you like my chest hair so much, get yourself off on it, baby." 

"What if I crush you o-or something?" 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before just pulling her onto his chest by her thighs. He smirks, enjoying the view of having such a beautiful woman on top of him. 

"Well, I'm waitin'," he huffs. Her hands cautiously grip his shoulders before she begins grinding her hips against his strong chest. Her movements are slow and apprehensive at first, but eventually pleasure starts building up. The friction of his chest hair against her clit feels better than she expected and brings her closer to her orgasm. Negan watches her from beneath his thick eyelashes, in awe with the way her tits move in unison with her grinding. 

"I shoulda made you my fuckin' wife," he comments as his hands caress her thighs. 

"Better late than never, right?" comes her breathy reply. She's close and Negan can tell by her breathlessness and sweaty, flushed face. Her hand creeps down between her legs and she rubs her clit in quick circles, urging her orgasm closer. Her thighs squeeze his ribcage and her eyes screw shut as the dam breaks and her orgasm comes crashing over her. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” He teases. She climbs off his chest and flops onto the bed beside him. 

“Mmm hmm.” She nuzzles into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arm around snugly her as she  caresses his chest. 

“So what was that you were saying about makin’ me your wife…?”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓎 Our Girl: Growing Up | 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓀

summary: monkey's dad has the social worker convinced everything is fine when the reality couldn't be further from the truth.

our girl: growing up masterlist

The entire ride to your dad’s house felt like a waking nightmare. The fear gripped your chest so tightly it was hard to breathe, and the closer you got, the more your stomach twisted into painful knots.

Every mile felt like you were being dragged further into something dark and suffocating, an inevitable doom you couldn’t escape.

Your social worker chatted idly in the front seat, her cheerful tone grating against the terror building inside you. You barely heard her words. All you could focus on was the rising dread of stepping into that house - a house that wasn’t home, and never would be.

“Alright, looks like we’re here,” Your social worker announced the words you had been dreading since you climbed in the car, “Ready to say hi to your dad?” She chirped, turning to you with a forced smile.

You shrank into your seat, desperately wishing you could disappear. The pit in your stomach grew heavier with every second, your hands clutching at the fabric of your jeans as if grounding yourself would keep you safe.

The memories came flooding back, vivid and sharp – The stench of alcohol on his breath, the cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to everything, the bruises he’d left on your arms when his temper flared. You remembered it all, every terrifying moment that made you flinch at loud voices and slammed doors.

And yet, somehow, he’d convinced everyone that he’d changed. That he was better.

You weren’t fooled – not entirely – but what could you do? You were just nine years old. To the adults around you, your voice didn’t carry the weight it should have. They saw your fear as uncertainty, your hesitation as resistance to change. 

No one wanted to listen to a kid. Nobody wanted to listen to you. 

Your heart pounded harder as the car came to a stop in front of the house. You stared at it, willing it to disappear, but it stood there, looming, mocking your fear.

Every part of you screamed not to get out, to stay hidden, to make the nightmare stop. But you knew you couldn’t.

Your social worker turned to you, her smile still there, but it wasn’t comforting. It felt forced, like she was trying to convince both you and herself that this was fine.

“Come on now,” She said gently, her voice warm but insistent, “It’s okay, It’s going to be fine. I’ll be right there with you,” She waited for you to move, but you just sat there, frozen, staring ahead.

Your body was tense, every muscle locked up in protest, “I… I don’t want to,” You whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear yourself. Your throat felt tight, your words barely able to escape.

Your social worker’s expression softened, and she sighed, her patience unwavering, “I know, I know you might feel scared, sweetheart, but everything is going to be fine.” She told you in a gentle tone of voice, more patient than she was earlier when pushing you to say goodbye to Leah, just like she was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Your hands were clammy, your palms sweating against the cold seatbelt. The world outside the car felt distant, unreal like you couldn’t quite make it through the fog of your own terror.

With a shaky breath, you slowly unbuckled your seatbelt, feeling your stomach twist in tighter knots. You hesitated before pushing the door open, the chill of the outside air only adding to the dread. 

Your social worker’s reassuring hand rested on your shoulder as she stood beside you, “You’re doing great,” She said, guiding you to the front door.

Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the earth itself was trying to drag you back. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears as you approached the door, the sound of the knock feeling deafening.

It was as if every second stretched out into eternity.

The door opened with a creak, and there he was. Your dad.

He looked different, but not by much. His scruff had greyed, and his eyes carried the weight of exhaustion, but the unsettling smile that tugged at his lips was the same – a smile that tried too hard to be convincing, like he was fooling everyone, even himself, into believing everything was fine. It made your skin crawl.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my kiddo,” Your dad, Mark, greeted you, his smile cold and forced as you stood frozen, clutching your bag, “You’ve certainly grown since I last saw you, haven’t you?”

His voice was too bright, too fake. It was like he was desperately trying to make everything feel normal, like this moment wasn’t suffocating you. But you saw through it. You always had.

“What, no hug for your old man?” Your dad joked, crouching down to your level and spreading his arms wide, expecting you to step into them.

“Hello again, Mark,” Your social worker stepped forward, her tone professional, yet polite, “I’m here to ensure everything goes smoothly with this transition,” She said, her eyes scanning your dad for any sign of something she might need to address, “How have things been, uh, since we last spoke?”

Your dad chuckled, the sound grating on your nerves, “Things have been good, real good,” He said, his hand resting on the doorframe as if were trying to look casual. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered nervously toward you.

“You’ve made progress, right?” Your social worker’s voice held a touch of caution, and you could feel her eyes watching him, weighing his every word.

Your dad nodded quickly, too quickly, “Of course. Everything’s under control. She’ll be safe here. I’ve changed,” The way he said it, the words falling from his lips like they were rehearsed, made your stomach churn.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second.

But your social worker seemed to buy it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and gave a nod, “Good, we’ll be checking in regularly to make sure everything stays on track for you both.”

You stood there, your body trembling, wishing you could disappear, wishing you could escape, but all you could do was stare at the door and wonder how long it would take for the fear to come rushing back, like it always did.

“I see you are still into football, huh? I bet you’re the player of the match every game,” Mark tried to make conversation, his attempt at interest ringing hollow.

You turned toward the social worker, fear flickering in your eyes, “I… I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to Leah’s. Why can’t I stay with her?”

“This is your new home now, kiddo,” Mark cut in quickly, crouching to your level. His voice was gruff, trying to sound kind, “We’re gonna make it nice. Just you and me, yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be here,” Your voice wavered as you shook your head, “Why can’t I go back?”

“It’s lovely here, Monkey–” The social worker began with a cheerful tone of voice.

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped your head toward her, her voice trembling with anger, “Only Le and Jordy get to call me that!”

The social worker’s smile faltered, her face flushing slightly, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Mark sighed heavily, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Come on now, there’s no need for that,” He said, his grip firm, “Hey, how about this? I’ll put up some goalposts in the garden. We can kick the ball around. Sound good?”

“No, thanks,” You muttered, pulling away from his hand.

“That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for us to figure things out, right?” Mark said with forced cheer, glancing at the social worker.

“Right,” Your social worker agreed, smiling faintly, “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in. I’ll come by in a couple of days to check in and make sure everything is okay.”

“I… I don’t want to be here,” Your chest tightened as panic set in, “Please… Please don’t leave me here,” You begged, your voice cracking.

Your social worker knelt down beside you, “This is your new home now, sweetheart. You’ll be happy here with your dad.”

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, straightening up, “It’s just me and you now, kiddo. We’ll be alright, won’t we?”

Tears prickled your eyes as you shook your head, “No, I… I don’t want to be here. I want Le,” You whispered, clutching your bag tighter as the reality of your new life began to sink in.

But you didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be with Leah and Jordan, where you felt safe, where things still made sense.

“Take a seat kid. The match is kicking off soon,” Your dad’s gruff voice cut through the silence, “I’ve got a good feeling about this game, you know? Those so-called Gunners are about to get a reality check.”

Your stomach dropped. Football games meant pain. The outcome of each match determined the mood of the night, and you knew your dad’s moods could turn in a dime. The thought of sitting through another night like this terrified you.

You didn’t want the social worker to leave, but soon enough, it was just the two of you in a house that felt cold and empty. Your dad didn’t waste time in turning his attention back to the TV, flipping through channels until he landed on the match he’d been waiting for.

You lingered in the doorway, the silence of the house pressing down on you, suffocating you. The hum of the television filled the space, but the victorious cheers from the screen only made you feel more alone.

The game between Arsenal and Chelsea – Your dad’s team – and it didn’t take long for it to become painfully clear that Chelsea was dominating. Arsenal was losing badly. Your dad, a lifelong Chelsea fan, was practically glowing with joy as the goals piled up.

When Chelsea scored yet another goal, making it 6 - 0, your dad threw his hands up in the air, grinning from ear to ear and shouting in triumph, his mood shifting into something unusually bright and triumphant as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“That’s how it’s done, eh?” Your dad grinned, not even looking over at you, “6 nil, that’s how you crush them. Gotta love it.”

You flinched at the sound of his voice, the sudden loudness making your heart race. He was too happy, too loud. It felt like the rest of the world had fallen away as he celebrated his team’s victory, oblivious to the fact that you were standing right there, desperately wishing to disappear.

Your dad glanced over at you, a wide smile on his face, “You used to watch the game with me, remember? Not gonna get upset about this, are you? It’s a big win for Chelsea.”

His words hit you like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know how to respond. His cheerfulness felt fake, like he was trying to force normalcy in a moment that was anything but. 

You wanted to ask if you could leave, go back to Leah’s, to somewhere that didn’t feel so wrong or so… heavy.

But you stayed silent.

Your stomach twisted as you watched him bask in his victory, the scoreline a stark reminder of how powerless you felt in that moment, how trapped you were.

“Come on kiddo, sit down. I’m not gonna bite,” He said, motioning to the sofa, but you stayed frozen in pace, “Come on. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” His voice was warm, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You stood there for a moment longer, the sound of the game in the background like a cruel mockery of everything you wanted. You didn’t want to be here, not with him, not with the victory that felt more like defeat to you.

But what could you do? What could you say?

With a deep, shaky breath, you turned away from the doorway and shuffled toward the sofa, but everything about it felt wrong. Just like the house, just like the victory.

You didn’t belong here, and no matter how hard he tried to make you feel like you did, you knew the truth.

As the night fell, the house seemed even colder. The shadows in the corners of the room stretched long and lonely, creeping along the walls. You sat there, staring at the walls, at the empty space around you, feeling every inch of the house pressing in, suffocating you.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional muffled sound from the TV in the living room, where your dad continued to watch the game highlights.

This wasn’t your room, this wasn’t your home. You didn’t want to be here, it felt wrong, like you were living in someone else’s nightmare, trapped in a place that wasn’t yours.

The walls, the furniture, the way everything felt too still – This wasn’t your home. Home was with Leah and Jordan, where you felt safe, where the air didn’t feel thick with the weight of expectations and disappointment.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. The cold seemed to seep into your bones, making everything feel even emptier. You needed something – someone – but no one was there.

And then, it hit you.

You didn’t have your stuffed monkey.

The realisation made your chest tighten. You hadn’t even thought about it until now, but the weight of not having him there with you was like a knife in your heart. Your stuffed monkey was your comfort, your safety, the thing that always made things feel just a little bit better, no matter how bad things got.

But he wasn’t here, and it felt like you were missing a piece of yourself.

The tears came before you could stop them. They started slow, and then built, faster and faster, until your face was wet with them. Your body trembled with silent sobs. 

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to be weak, after all, you had promised Leah that you could be brave, but in this cold, empty house, with nothing but the distant sounds of a victory that didn’t matter to you, you felt more alone than you ever had before.

You curled up tighter under the blanket, hoping somehow the warmth of it would stop the tears. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, but it didn’t stop the pain.

The ache in your chest. The fear.

And as the tears kept falling, you realised there was no escaping this – no running back to Leah and Jordan.

You were alone.

The next morning, it was like your dad was trying to show you he could be different, to convince both himself and you that things were fine. He seemed determined to act like everything was normal, maybe even better than normal.

“Hey, kiddo,” He said as you walked into the kitchen, “I was thinking, you’ve got that football thing coming up, don’t you? A match or something?”

You blinked, surprised, “Uh… Yeah, next weekend.”

Your dad nodded, his smile awkward but genuine enough to catch you off guard, “I’ll come. Watch you play. Haven’t done that in a while, right? I reckon it’d be nice for both of us.”

You didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, you wanted to believe him. But on the other, you knew how easily promises could feel apart. Still, the thought of him showing up gave you a glimmer of hope, “Okay,” You said softly.

“That’s the spirit,” He grinned, ruffling your hair, “Hey, I meant what I said to the social worker. You’ll still see Leah and… Jordan, is it, yeah? I’m not trying to keep them away from you.”

That part, at least, made you feel a bit better, “You promise?”

“Promise,” Your dad said, holding up his hand like he was swearing an oath, “I’ll even drive you over there myself if I have to.”

The day passed in a strange sort of normalcy, with your dad asking about football and school. It felt forced, but you didn’t want to question it. You clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

By the evening rolled around, you were jittery with anticipation. Leah had promised to call, and the thought of hearing her voice was the only thing keeping you from completely shutting down. The house still felt cold and unfamiliar, but knowing Leah could be on the other end of the line made it bearable.

When the phone rang mid-afternoon, you darted to the living room, “Is that her?” You asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

Your dad raised an eyebrow at your eagerness, but he handed over the phone without comment, “Yeah, it’s her,” He said, stepping back.

“Le?” You said, clutching the phone tightly. As soon as you heard her familiar voice, the knot in your chest loosened, “Le!”

“There’s my girl,” Leah’s voice warm and bright, like a hug over the phone, “It’s so good to hear your voice! How’re you doing? Are you settling in okay?”

You sat down on the sofa, a small smile creeping onto your face, “It’s… Okay,” You said, hesitating, “I miss you, and I miss Jordy!”

“I miss you too, Monkey. We both miss you so much,” Leah replied softly, sounding like she was trying to hold her tears back but you could hear the quiver in her voice, “I’ll see you soon, yeah? And you can call me anytime. I’m always going to be here for you. We both are.”

The conversation went on for a while, with Leah asking about your day and telling you about hers. It was the most you’d smiled since you moved in, and for a moment, you forgot about how empty the house felt.

When the call ended, you handed the phone back to your dad, your heart feeling lighter than it had been earlier that day, “Thank you for letting me talk to her,” You said.

Your dad gave you a tight smile, “Yeah, no problem, kiddo. Glad you’re happy,” But there was something in his tone, a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Over the next couple of days, your dad seemed to watch you more closely, especially whenever you brought Leah or Jordan up in conversation. You didn’t think much of it, too focused on the small bursts of joy her calls brought.

A few evenings later, Leah called again. You were in the kitchen when the phone rang, and you hurried into the living room, eager to answer. But your dad beat you to it, lifting the phone before you could reach it.

“Hello?” Your dad answered, his tone casual. 

You hovered nearby, waiting for him to pass it to you.

“Oh, yeah… No, she’s already in bed,” He said after a pause. His words stopped you in your tracks. You weren’t in bed. It wasn’t even your bedtime yet.

A chill ran down your spine. Why didn’t he let you speak to her?

Leah’s voice was faint, but you could hear the confusion in her tone, “Already? Isn’t it a bit early for her?”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day,” Your dad said smoothly, his tone light but firm, “I’ll let her know you called.”

Your stomach sank, a deep unsettling feeling settling in your chest, “Dad,” You whispered his name, your voice trembling, “Dad… Is that Leah?”

Before Leah could say anything more, your dad quickly hung up the phone. He turned to face you, still smiling, but there was something behind his eyes that your skin crawl, “Nah, just someone from work,” He said, brushing it off, “It’s getting late, go get ready for the bed.”

You stood there for a moment, staring at the phone, confused and hurt, “But… I thought she was gonna call.”

“She probably forgot, kiddo,” Your dad said, waving a hand dismissively, “Now, go on. Don’t make a fuss.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to believe. Your heart felt heavy, and the unease gnawed at you, “Are you sure it wasn’t her?”

Your dad sharpened his gaze, and his voice became more firm, more final, “I said it wasn’t her. Now drop it.”

The finality in his tone made you flinch and without a word, you turned and walked back to your room, the unanswered question hanging in the air. The disappointment pressed down on you like a weight, and you felt a familiar coldness creep back into your chest.

Your social worker’s next visit came in the middle of the following week, a day like any other but still somehow heavy with anticipation. You tried to keep yourself small and hidden, out of the way, as your dad greeted the woman at the door, offering a forced smile that made your stomach churn.

The entire time, it felt like a blur, a series of questions and answers that passed by too quickly for you to catch your breath. You didn’t like the way your dad pretended to be someone he wasn’t, and it didn’t feel right.

There was something off about it, like he was trying too hard.

“Hey, kiddo,” Your dad called from the living room, where he was sitting with the social worker, “Come on in and say hi. They want to know how things are going, right?”

You shuffled into the room, eyes downcast as you felt the uncomfortable weight of the situation. Your social worker smiled warmly at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her gaze. 

You didn’t feel you belonged here. Not in this house. Not with him.

“So, how have things been going?” She asked, looking between you and him.

“Oh yeah, they’ve been great!” Your dad’s voice was too loud, too eager. He sounded like he was trying to convince both himself and everyone else that everything was fine, “We’re having a fantastic time together, right, kiddo?”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, and you knew what he expected from you. You had no choice but to force a weak smile and nod, the words too thick in your throat to speak, “Yeah…”

 “That’s wonderful to hear!” Your social worker smiled, unaware of the tension in the room, “Mark, you seemed to have really changed.”

You could hear the pride in your voice, and it made your stomach twist. 

Your dad’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was too eager to play the part, to act like the father he thought he should be, “Having my Monkey here makes me become the better man. A better father to her.”

The words struck you like a slap to the face. You couldn’t hide the discomfort that spread through you.

Monkey.

The nickname Leah and Jordan had given you, the one that meant something real, something safe. And now, he was using it, twisting it into something it was never meant to be.

You wanted to argue, to say something, but you couldn’t. You knew better than to challenge him, especially not in front of the social worker. You stayed quiet, your hands shaking in your lap.

“I’m really pleased to hear that, Mark,” Your social worker said, her voice warm, “And sweetheart? Are you happy here?”

The question should’ve felt like a lifeline, a chance to finally speak up, but it felt like a trap. The house was cold, everything about it felt wrong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

Instead, you forced out the words, the ones you knew your dad wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” It came out hollow, but you couldn’t help it. You were too scared to say anything else. The fear of what would happen if you told the truth was too strong.

The social worker didn’t seem to notice. She smiled and jotted something down in her notes, “Well, it seems like things are improving. I’m happy to hear that. It’s really good to see you two getting along so well.”

As she stood up to leave, you felt a knot of frustration in your stomach. You had to sit there, nod and smile, even though everything inside of you screamed that this wasn’t right.

Why didn’t you just speak up when you had the chance?

Your dad’s act had worked. Your social worker was completely fooled. You were stuck, unable to say anything that would make it stop.

When the door closed behind your social worker, the silence was deafening. Your dad stood up, his posture stiff, as if he was proud of what he had just pulled off. You could feel his eyes on you, watching for any sign of resistance. You kept your head down, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to give him any reason to lash out.

That same evening when he called you into the living room to talk, you couldn’t escape the tightness in your chest. You had to keep playing along, or it would all fall apart. 

Your dad didn’t seem to notice your hesitation as he sat down, a forced smile still on his face, “See, kiddo? Everything’s fine now. The social worker thinks we’re doing great.”

You nodded, the fake smile still in place, but inside, everything felt wrong. The house felt colder now, the emptiness more suffocating.

And then you said it. The wrong words at the wrong time.

“I miss Leah. I… I wish I could go back,” It was a slip of the tongue, but it was enough for your dad’s anger to return.

His face shifted instantly, his eyes narrowing and the smile slipping off his face, “You want to go back to them, do you?” His voice was scarily low and dangerous, laced with venom, “You want your precious Leah and Jordan? Too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

Before you could even try to explain, he stormed off, his footsteps heavy and fast. You heard the sound of the kitchen cabinet slamming, then the unmistakable clink of glass. Your stomach dropped when he returned with a bottle in hand – whiskey.

You could feel the terror building up inside you. Whiskey meant he was no longer the man he pretended to be. It meant anger. It meant violence. It meant fear.

Your dad wasn’t a nice man when he drank at all, and the bruises were enough to show for that in the past.

“You see this bottle?” He hissed, holding it up like a weapon, “You’re the reason I drink, you little brat. Always whining. Always complaining. Now you’re asking for Leah and Jordan all the time. I can’t take it anymore.”

Your body went cold. The words stung, but you couldn’t fight back. You just sat there, frozen in place, watching as he raged on. The fear kept you silent, kept you from speaking, from fighting.

“You want them? Too bad. You don’t get to have everything your way,” Your dad’s cold voice sneered, and there it was.

That haunting familiar tone of voice that sends a chill down your spine, and left you cowering in the corner of the room.

The anger in his voice was suffocating. You stared at the floor, blinking back tears, but they came anyway. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You had tried so hard to keep the peace, to make everything okay, and now it was all falling apart.

When he finally left the room, slamming the door behind him, the silence that followed felt more suffocating. Broken and alone. The house felt even colder now, the emptiness more pronounced. You wanted to scream, to run to Leah, to have her hold you and tell you everything would be okay.

But you couldn’t.

Your dad was right, and you were stuck here, stuck with him, and pretending that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (20/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, sexual tension, soft dirty talk, targcest stuff, the angst, manipulation, nightmares ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

There was darkness all around her.

It wasn't the darkness of night, the kind when the sun had long since set behind the horizon – then she could at least recognise the shapes around her.

Now, however, she could see nothing but a black void – she tried to focus, wondering where she was and how to escape from the place she was in. After a moment, she realised that although her sense of sight was completely helpless, she could hear something in the distance.

At first she thought it was the rustling of leaves, but then the sound became louder and the hum of the water around her almost deafened her. A cry of surprise and terror stuck in her throat when she suddenly felt some cold, wet hand grab her arm.

When she opened her eyes, it was already dawn – the rising sun outside the window was obscured by heavy grey clouds. Her heart pounded hard for a long moment more before she realised it was just another nightmare.

The arm that embraced her was warm and familiar, her husband's calm, quiet breath enveloped her neck with every movement of his chest. She knew he was already awake because his thumb was stroking her wrist – she closed her eyes, focusing only on that.

On his closeness, his tender touch, his presence.

She wasn't sure if what she had experienced with him that night had really happened – it seemed unreal to her – but on the other hand, the burning discomfort between her thighs told her that it was true.

They were closer than ever, and that made her even more afraid.

Her lord-husband was not thrilled with her idea of speaking with the Witch of Harrenhal. She knew, however, that this woman certainly had the answers to many of her questions – she just had to convince her that she was not her enemy.

Criston Cole led her into the dungeons, which reeked of dampness and rodent excrement – she swallowed hard, trying not to show on her face the discomfort she felt as she heard the moans of the people behind the iron bars, their pleas for her to have mercy on them.

They finally stopped under one of the cells – the light of day fell on the figure of a woman sitting on the ground, with her wrists tied and her mouth stuffed with some dirty cloth. It was a pitiful sight – her gaze was tired and bored, her pupils bright green, her raven-black long hair flowed gently down her shoulders.

She nodded to Criston Cole to open the lock and stepped inside.

"Leave us alone, Ser Criston." She said calmly.

There was an expression full of discomfort on his face, surely because her husband had given him completely opposite orders.

"Our Prince has commanded that I am not to leave your side and to see to it that no harm comes to you." He replied matter-of-factly.

"No harm will come to me. Leave." She said a little cooler.

She crouched down in front of her as Ser Criston closed the door behind her and walked away with a loud clatter of his armour. Once they were alone, she removed the material from her mouth with a gentle, slow motion – she reached back to the short dagger she had strapped to her belt and used it to cut the ropes that tied her hands.

The woman massaged her wrists, where she could see the long blue marks, her mouth dry with thirst. She handed her the cup of fresh water she'd been ordered to bring with her, and she drank slowly of its entire contents, looking her straight in the eye.

"I know what you want." The witch finally said, setting the steel cup down on the ground without even waiting for her to let her speak. "I know what you're trying to prevent."

She swallowed hard, looking down the corridor from the corner of her eye, hoping Criston Cole was standing far enough away not to hear what they were discussing.

"What's your name?" She asked finally.

The woman sighed heavily and leaned back, resting her head against the cold stone wall.

"Alys. Alys Rivers."

A bastard.

"We were greeted in the fortress by blue holly. Is that your creative invention?" She asked softly, sitting down opposite her on the hay.

Alys grinned, watching her figure from top to bottom with her gaze.

"You're smarter than him. Your father didn't even notice." She hummed with some kind of mockery, from which an unpleasant, cold shiver ran through her.

"You wanted him to daydream? Did you succeed?" She asked further.

The woman smiled broadly hearing her questions.

"He saw, heard and experienced some things. Peaceful sleep didn't find him day or night." She concluded.

They were silent for a moment, her gaze full of self-satisfaction.

"You said you know why I am here. So you also understand what I want." She said, looking at her hopefully.

I want him to survive.

Alys was silent for a long moment, looking at her with a kind of boredom, as if disappointed by her attitude.

"In a way, I pity you." She muttered at last, making her feel a strange, disturbing sting in her heart.

"Why?"

The woman sighed with a smirk of amusement and looked to the side, as if she were musing.

"If you weren't here, he would have taken me the very first night. Your husband. He would have cuddled up to my bare breasts. He would have sucked the milk from my nipples. He would have left his legacy, his son in my womb." She said lightly with a quiet click of her tongue, stroking her lower abdomen as if she could see it in her imagination.

The shame, pain, disgust and grief she felt deep inside her was indescribable – a previously unknown feeling squeezed her throat, her eyes filled with burning tears of rage that she refused to let flow.

Some part of her knew she was telling the truth.

He was incapable of being alone, incapable of facing the reality around him on his own.

He needed a mother, a mistress, a whore, a servant, a witch, any warm body with soft breasts that he could snuggle into and hide.

You are his favourite toy, but you are not irreplaceable, she remembered Gwayne's words.

She lowered her gaze, knowing that Alys had told her this to hurt her, to gain a mental advantage over her, to destroy what was between them and watch with satisfaction as the lives of the people who had imprisoned her burned.

If you weren't here, he would have taken me the very first night.

If I had not been here, she thought, it would have meant that I had refused to come with him to Harrehnal – I would have failed his trust, his hope, our pledge that whatever happened, we would remain by each other's side, like brother and sister.

She realised after a moment that Alys was trying to manipulate her: to make her imagine things that she knew would cause her pain.

She came to the conclusion that if it had been her husband speaking with her, she would have done the same thing: she would have planted doubts in him.

She would convince him that his wife would sooner or later give herself to his mother's brother and betray him anyway, and that he could have her, right here, right now.

Drop by drop, she would let the poison into his mind and heart.

She had to be wiser than she was, to believe what was real, not the visions she wanted her to imagine inside her head.

"I took this cloth out of your mouth because I was hoping we could have a conversation like two mature people. I can shove it back down your throat and let you die here. My husband, who might otherwise be cuddling his face to your chest right now, from my current observations doesn't care much about you or your fate. As you yourself rightly noticed, I am here."

Alys looked at her for a long time in silence, as if wondering what to make of her words.

"You don't resemble him at all. Your father. But the resemblance to your mother is not in you either. As if you were not their child." She replied finally.

For some reason what she said pleased her.

"I am my brother's sister. My husband's wife. A dragon rider. But I am afraid that, like you, I am no one's daughter. The names Rivers and Targaryen mean as much to me, though I'm sure if my lord-husband heard my words, he would burst with rage." She replied, turning her head towards the small window from behind which the sun shone.

Alys laughed at her words.

"You are what he wants you to be. He created you anew." The witch stated without thinking, and she, for some reason, smiled.

"Yes. Although violently, he gave my life meaning. Had it not been for him, I would never have tamed my dragon. I would not have experienced the deep and mysterious feeling that fills my whole heart." She confessed finally.

The woman sighed heavily, twisting in her seat, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Men fail us all the time, and yet we still put our hope in them."

She nodded at her words.

"I'll ask again. Blue holly. Was that your gift to my father or to us?" She continued, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.

Alys looked at her, a smile on her lips that only pretended to be cheerful.

"For all of you. As I said, Daemon didn't even notice them. His fiery temper did not allow him to connect what hung over his head with the nightmares and visions that haunted him day and night. They haunt you too. What do you see?" She asked, changing her tone of voice, looking at her in a way from which an unpleasant shiver ran down her spine.

She was silent for a long moment, wondering if she should tell her.

"I see my husband drowning. He grasps my hand, but I am unable to pull him out of the water." She whispered.

The Witch of Harrenhal looked at her with piercing gaze, wrinkling her brows, as if something in her words intrigued her, and then her eyes looked lower, at the height of her stomach.

"It is he who sends you these visions. Not me." She said softly.

Her hand involuntarily clamped down on the leather material at the height of her lower abdomen, her heart beginning to pound like mad in her chest.

"Who?" She mumbled.

"Your son. He sees things. And you see them with him."

She lowered her gaze, looking at her stomach, stroking it with her hand, as if trying to reassure herself and the being deep inside her at the same time.

Had Helaena seen him because she was already with child at the time?

"What was my father dreaming about?" She muttered, looking at her uncertainly.

Alys grinned broadly, but her eyes remained blank and wide.

Dangerous.

"About you. About his wives. About his brother. Remorse is consuming him from the inside." She replied with amusement.

"What does he want?" She whispered, breathing with increasing difficulty.

"Forgiveness. He knows he doesn't deserve it, and that is why he will never be able to change."

She thought for a long moment about what she had said, involuntarily stroking her abdomen.

He knows he doesn't deserve it, and that is why he will never be able to change.

"Can I save him? My husband?" She asked finally, lifting her gaze to her.

Alys snorted.

"You can try. The question is, is it worth it? If they were both gone, you'd be free at last."

Alys couldn't or wouldn't tell her anything else, and she knew that torture in her case wouldn't do any good. She ordered food to be served to her, and then that her mouth would be stuffed and her hands would be tied again, knowing that she could not be trusted.

As she climbed the steps to the top of the fortress, she felt that her legs were shaking all over, her breath deep and uneven – Criston Cole froze at the sight of her and swallowed hard, shifting from foot to foot.

"My Lady. Something happened?" He asked, but she only shook her head, having the feeling that the corridor she was walking down was spinning around her.

As she stepped into her husband's chamber, she saw his silhouette standing by the window – he turned immediately upon hearing her footsteps, as if he had been waiting for her not for hours, but for days.

"And?" He asked.

"The herbs hung all over the fortress are her doing. They were already waiting here for my father and drove him to a state close to madness." She said, watching him carefully.

He was pale and his mouth had taken on the shape of a thin line, as if he wanted to say something – he nodded and looked out of the window again, his hands clenched into fists.

Only after a moment did she see that in one of them he held something that looked like a crumpled piece of parchment.

Was it a message from King's Landing?

"What's it?" She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound hard in her chest.

She saw that he hesitated – he simultaneously wanted and didn't want to tell her, so he remained silent, as always finding this state safer.

As long as nothing was said, nothing was a foregone conclusion either.

"Aemond."

She wasn't sure she'd ever called him by his name outside of bed before – then, when she'd felt him deep inside her, it had been a moan of delight, a proof of her affection and devotion, of pure desire.

Now, however, it was an expression of who he was to her – she was not addressing him as husband, cousin, lover, prince, but as a man – a man who was dear to her.

He looked at her in a way she hadn't seen before – he was tense, the tip of his thumb scratching the cuticles around his fingernails in a subconscious, nervous reflex.

"Tell me."

His lip twitched, and then a single word left his throat.

"Daemon."

She swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant clench in her stomach, a cold drop of sweat trickling down her back. Her husband tossed carelessly the piece of parchment he held in his hand onto the table, looking at it as if he had seen something disgusting.

"He challenged me."

"Us."

He looked at her grimly, as if her remark irritated him.

"This is my battle and my victory to achieve." He said dispassionately.

"This is my father and my revenge. Which makes it our cause to solve. Isn't it?" She asked coolly, feeling her hands involuntarily clench into fists.

They looked at each other for a moment in a silence full of tension, fighting with something that was happening deep inside them.

"He wants me to face him like a man. Alone." He said finally.

She was only able to snort at his words, the wide smile on her face proving that she couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Of course he wants you to come alone. He knows your nature, your pride, and he's counting you won't take me with you out of fear of his judgement. Me, your biggest negotiating card in a confrontation with him that could make him hesitate, make him lose confidence, make him make a mistake. This could be a battle of two dragons against one, and you think of your image in the eyes of others as one of those vain, conceited lords you so despise?" She asked, feeling that she was speaking louder and louder with every word – the expression on his face told her that he was enraged with the way she spoke to him, his posture erect and tense, his hands clenched.

Her words frustrated him, but he listened, so she continued on even when he turned away and began pacing around the room, clearly not knowing himself what he thought about it.

"You told me yourself that Helaena ordered you to keep me close. You abducted me from Runestone to turn me into a weapon against Daemon, and now, when the opportunity to face him comes, your pride is more important to you?" She asked, and he pressed his lips together as if her words made him uncomfortable.

"I didn't know at the time." He said regretfully, running his hand over his face in a gesture of helplessness, as if he himself did not believe he had said it.

"You didn't know what?" She asked dryly, completely without strength.

"I didn't plan…this." He muttered, pointing at her with his hand as if trying to show her what he meant.

And suddenly she understood.

He hadn't planned for what they had become to each other, the closeness that had brought them together, the bond that was out of his control.

"This is what keeps me here, fighting for your cause." She said with pain.

"If he says he regrets everything. That he will be the kind of father to you that you have always wanted him to be. How can I be sure you won't flee with him?" He asked.

She stared at him dully, slowly understanding how deep his suspicion ran, how fragile and volatile his trust in her was despite the fact that she had never given him reason to doubt her.

"Do you think it would have made a difference? That a few of his empty words would make me abandon someone who gave me a reason to live? That I would run away with a stranger for whom my person has so far represented no value?" She asked in a breaking voice, feeling a growing panic rising inside her.

"We crave the love of our parents no matter how much they hurt us. That's just the way we are." He said lowly, as if he were stating some known, universal truth.

"Speak for yourself." She hissed coldly, exasperated and embittered. "If your trust in me is dependent on your mood, it means that our marriage is a mere fiction without foundation, and I remain your slave. You may command me as your prisoner to remain in Harrenhal for fear of my desertion, but do not count on me continuing to warm your bed."

Her feet carried her to the door herself – it seemed to her that her words and behaviour had shocked him so much that he was unable to get anything out, much less stop her.

Never before had she so clearly and firmly shown him her displeasure and disobedience.

After all she had done for him, all she had sacrificed for him, how could he still look at her as if she were his enemy, someone who could stab him in the back?

On the one hand, she understood his fears, that surely his outspoken tongue and what he said were expressions of his terror and uncertainty, of how he feared that the person he had allowed to get close to him could decide the fate of his war.

On the other hand, her every breath and deed was proof of her bravery and devotion, her fidelity, and he, seeing this, allowed himself to be blinded by a childish conviction that if he did not risk her betrayal, he would not be disappointed if it actually happened.

Her husband didn't go after her – she knew he was furious and, according to himself, was showing his power and dominance to her by doing so. She didn't care too much about that, instead thinking about how she could defeat her father.

Lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling of the wooden construction with her hand placed on her stomach, she found that the child growing in her womb, of which her cousin was not yet aware, might have been her advantage, if her father had any conscience.

On the other hand, Daemon himself had killed Aegon's innocent son, she reminded herself and sighed heavily, closing her eyes.

She knew that her presence could have made a difference.

She felt it.

But how?

Convinced that her cousin was still offended by her outburst, she wasn't particularly surprised that he hadn't come to her chamber during the night – she guessed that they would spend that time apart, and decided it would do them both good.

She shuddered when she heard a loud knock at her door – she thought at first that it was him, but after a moment she opened her eyes, half-sunk in sleep, reminding herself that, after all, if he had wanted to, he would have simply come inside.

"My Lady! My Lady, open the door! The matter is urgent." She heard Criston Cole's voice.

She rose quickly and ran to the door, opening it hurriedly – Ser Criston was pale, his gaze panicked.

"Our Prince set off for Vhagar's lair in full armour. Alone. Did he mention to you that he would be patrolling the skies tonight?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"No. Wait here. I'll go after him immediately."

Ser Criston and she, dressed in her leather riding attire, armed with bow and arrows, ran arm in arm down the worn stone steps of grim Harrenhal, conversing in between.

"Daemon? Gods, what drove him to such madness to try to face him alone?"

"You know him best, so you should be able to guess. His fucking pride. Like any man, he's a fool." She hissed with rage on the verge of crying, feeling that she only half understood what was happening around her.

"I will move after you. I will gather our army." He said, and she laughed out loud, seeing that, like her, he was not thinking logically.

"To be burned alive? This is a battle of dragons, not men. Pray that Rhaenyra does not attack you in our absence, for you will be completely defenceless." She said in a trembling voice, pulling on her leather gloves.

As soon as they left the gate of the fortress, she immediately jumped on her mare, Ser Criston's voice echoing behind her.

"May the Seven protect you!"

Even since she had met him, she knew that she was a better rider than her cousin – looking at his technique from the side, she knew that the horse was only an indirect form of travel for him, as he obviously considered his dragoness to be the highest and most important one. It was for this reason that he lacked the lightness and confidence in the delicate movements of the body that formed the bond between mount and its rider.

That's why she galloped between the hills faster than she had ever done in her life, breathing heavily, hoping to catch up with him.

After a moment, she noticed Vhagar's large silhouette lying on the ground, and then his – he was most likely preparing for the exertion of climbing onto her back in heavy armour. He stopped in mid-motion when he heard her horse and turned towards them, surprised.

She had never seen him in an armour before – apart from the helmet that lay beside his feet, his body was protected by polished steel gleaming in the moonlight. All of his snow-white hair was tied up with a black ribbon at the back of his head, and there was no eye patch on his face.

When she jumped down from her mare he simply stared at her, as if he didn't believe that she had followed him – he only made a move when she rushed at him and swung, intending to slap him across the face with all her strength – he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, her body slammed into his.

"You fucking bastard! How dare you leave me behind!" She hissed in a breaking, childish voice, trying to free herself from his grasp.

His lips clung to hers in a sudden, aggressive act, as if he wanted to devour her – she moaned with rage and squealed as his arms locked her in an iron grip, as their heavy breaths mingled in the moist, sticky chaos of their tongues and teeth.

They took their faces in each other's hands – the steel of his armour was unpleasantly cold, but she didn't mind – her fingers sank into his soft hair with his loud grunt of pleasure, the tip of his slick tongue ran over her palate.

"My armour got unpleasantly tight. Right here." He gasped out in a trembling voice, rubbing the part of his armour against her lower abdomen, behind which his manhood hid.

She ran her hands over his cheeks, shaking her head, unable to sympathise with him now for such a trivial reason as lust.

"Take me with you." She mumbled, looking straight into his eyes – one alive, filled with passionate affection and pain, the other empty, dead, shining with an unnatural, sinister glow.

"I want you to live, even if I'm gone. Daemon, if he succeeds in defeating me, will not kill you. You will tell him that I forced you to marry me." He said softly, as if he was telling her a secret he had kept deep inside himself for a long time.

Her thumb ran over his sharply outlined jaw, making him close his eye, trying to focus on how pleasant and gentle her touch was.

"You promised me something then, under a starry sky, like the one spreading over our heads now. You said: tame a dragon, and your place will always be by my side. It was not to be my punishment, but my reward. So reward me, for my devotion, courage and faithfulness. Let me spend the night with you." She whispered.

He opened his eyelid and stared at her for a moment with his lips slightly parted, breathing hard, as if he couldn't believe what she was saying – she had the feeling that his healthy eye had glazed over from emotion, his hands wandering along her neck, to her cheeks and hair.

He kissed her again and that was his answer – she knew it and she could feel it in his sigh of relief, in his realisation that if he was heading for death, he would not face it alone.

They embraced like a pair of lovers, letting their lips, swollen with desire, to join again and again in a sweet, wet caress – the quiet clicks of their saliva and their ragged, loud breaths made her feel the sticky arousal between her thighs.

His hands were everywhere – on her ass, her waist, her back, her breasts and she knew that he regretted wearing his armour at the moment.

If it weren't for it, he would have fucked her here and now.

But he couldn't do it and they both knew it, so when he pulled away from her, he just pressed his forehead against hers, panting hard.

"– hāedar (little sister) –" He whispered.

For some reason, this word meant more to her than any declaration of love.

She smiled, and he pressed his lips together, as if something about the sight caused him pain – she wiped a tear from his eyelid with her thumb before it could run down his cheek, and he snuggled his face into her palm.

"– lēkia (big brother) –" She hummed sweetly, placing a warm, tender kiss on his cheek, from which he sighed softly.

"– promise not to leave my side –" He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if ashamed that he was afraid to die.

She nodded, pressing her nose into the smooth skin of his clean-shaven face.

"– I promise –"

[sirxlla]

Laying Hoes Hose 😉

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

Warnings: NSFW, fluff

Prompt: getting interrupted while having sex with Buck

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

When it came to Buck his entire apartment was up for grabs when he had sex with you. The shower, the kitchen table, the couch, the hallway. You get it, the whole lot was up for grabs. No one could see in due to the tint on the windows so in his mind there was no reason to not push your face against the window and screw you from behind.

You'd never be upset for anyone cause of their body count, you knew his was high but holy fuck did it give him experience. This man could rearrange your insides multiple times over for what felt like hours before even thinking about finishing. His stamina was unreal, of course that came from the fire department but also his experience, he knew how to pace himself.

You threw your head back with a moan as you panted, him expertly hitting right where you needed him to over and over. Buck's hips clapped against your ass causing the sound echoed across the apartment. He smirked as you whined and reached behind you for him.

Buck's apartment was like a goddamn merry go round and people came and went as they pleased so getting alone time like this was rare but when it happened? God, was he good at this.

He grabbed a handfull of you hair with a small tug to bring your head back and your lips to his so you both could share a very sloppy/steamy kiss as you panted in his mouth.

You were so fucking close and it felt like cloud nine when there was a knock on the door. He ignored it and kept his pace against you, bringing you both to a climax was more important to him right than whatever was at the door. His lips kissed and bit at your neck and shoulders.

"Baby, I'm gonna-" You whined before the door was banged on again and again.

"We know you're in there, Evan!" Chimney yelled.

"Open the door, we brought refreshments!" Eddie added before they kept knocking over and over. Buck was annoyed and groan as he pulled away slowly which caused you to make the same noise.

"Baby, I-" He started and apology as he quickly pulled his sweatpants back on to answer the door.

"I know." You panted out, a complete mess for him and he'd've know than more than he already did if his friends weren't so annoyingly persistant.

"Give me a minute, Guys. It's a mess, I-" He gave you a moment as he stalled his friends.

"We don't care about what it looks like!" Eddie responed with a laugh almost on hos tongue.

"Come on, the beers getting cold!" Chimney yelled after, Buck looked back at you as you cleaned up the pair of your clothes before getting some clothes to go shower. Once you were in the shower, he let them in.

"Finally, my Grandma moves faster than you...and she's dead." Chimney joked before hearing the shower.

"Oh, you got company?" Eddie smirked as he spoke but it falls as he sees Chimney's face.

"Oh- Oh, Dude, I'm so sorry. Maddie told me to not come over, I didn't think it was cause you were spending time with your girl, should we go?" Chimney asked feeling a bit shitty.

"No, it's fine. You're already here. We were just wrapping up anyways." Buck added with a kind and reassuring smile, of course he would've liked to continue with you but he knew that ship had sailed and he knew you knew that too. You two had been interrupted countless times via emergencies and such.

"Did we interrupt anything?" Eddie asks a bit teasing but a bit guilty.

"Yeah but it's nothing." Buck tried to reassure his friends more.

"Nah, thats not nothing. I knew when Maddie and I get interrupted-"

"I don't really wanna hear about you banging my sister." Buck replied to make them laugh and tease the tension with tge very true statement.

You cleaned yourself up, showered and every other thing you needed to do. It was hard to get out of the shower once you were in there sometimes, like it was just so calming and serene but all good thing come to an end.

Once you had got dressed in one of Buck's graphic tees that he usually only wore at home. You hadn't bothered to look at the shirt when you hastily grabbed it earlier to get into the shower. You had pulled it on before reading it and now you had to stiffle a laugh.

"Laying hoes hose." It says with a pinup female firefighter winking on it, the word hoes crossed out to spell hose like a fire hose.

"Oh, my god." You laughed, you didn't even know he had this in his dresser. There was only that shirt and it wasnt like Chimney and Eddie didnt know you or your humor and in their minds they'd probably think it was yours or something you bought for Evan.

You came out and sat next to Buck, you know that Buck would make it up to you later so it sucked but it was what it was.

"Evening, N/N. We're sorry if we-" Chimney still felt the need to apologize.

"It's okay, I'm used to it." Acting like it was nothing because at this point you had started to try to accept it.

"No, you shouldnt have to. I kinda feel really bad. I know you and Buck are super busy with work and babysitting Jee..." Chimney continues.

"It's alright, Buck'll make it up to me later, Right?"

"Right." Buck blushed a bit and smiled and squeezed your thigh, he looks down and sees your shirt before laughing, he'd forgot about that shirt. The other guys look at it as well and start laughing, the tension was once again evaporated into thin air.

-> Masterlist <-

[winxanity-ii]

SECOND, SERVITUDE

ship: incubus!gojo x fem!virgin!reader (ft.geto) warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; handjob/m. recieving; coercion/dub-con?; p in v; overstimulation) word count: 5.0k a/n: 2nd part to my first KINKtober attempt: 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓, 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.…

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

It had been a few weeks since that night, and somehow, you had managed to push it to the back of your mind.

You kept yourself busy with schoolwork, study sessions with Megumi, and hanging out with Nobara. Whenever your mind dared to wander back to Satoru—the heat of his touch, the intensity of his eyes—you quickly forced yourself to focus on something else.

You couldn't afford to dwell on something so unreal, something that made your heart race and your skin tingle just from the memory.

No, it was easier to pretend it had never happened, easier to bury the experience under mundane routines and daily life.

But today was different. Today was your birthday, and Nobara had made it her personal mission to drag you out to celebrate.

You'd tried to protest, but she wasn't having any of it. By the time she was done with you, you were dressed in an outfit you never would have chosen for yourself: a short, tight leather mini skirt that hugged your hips and a tube top that left little to the imagination.

The fabric clung to your chest, and every time you looked in the mirror, you felt your face flush. But Nobara had insisted, claiming you looked "absolutely hot" and that you "had to show off a little for once."

The club was loud, the music pulsing through the floor and vibrating up your legs.

Nobara had led you straight to a booth near the back, ordering drinks before you could even settle in. She was in her element, already chatting up someone at the bar, leaving you to nurse a drink that tasted far too strong for your liking.

The lights were dim, neon colors flashing across the room, and you tried your best to relax, telling yourself to just enjoy the night.

You sat in the booth, shifting uncomfortably in the tight skirt, your fingers tapping nervously against the glass in your hand. You weren't used to this—the clothes, the atmosphere, the attention.

You could feel eyes on you, and it made your skin prickle with unease. You took another sip of your drink, trying to ignore the feeling, focusing instead on the music, letting it drown out your thoughts.

A shadow fell over you, and you looked up, startled. A tall figure ambled over, his silhouette barely visible under the flashing lights. As he got closer, you felt your breath catch in your throat.

It was Suguru.

He looked striking, his long dark hair let down, flowing freely over his shoulders, a few loose strands framing his face. His eyes, sharp and dark, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey," he said, his voice smooth, almost drowned out by the music. He slid into the booth beside you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you swallowed hard, trying to find your voice.

"Hi," you managed, your voice barely audible over the pounding music. You glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Nobara, but she was nowhere to be found.

"I saw you sitting here all alone," Suguru said, leaning in closer. His breath brushed against your ear, and you shivered. "Figured I'd come keep you company."

You could feel your face heating up, and you quickly looked down at your drink, your fingers tightening around the glass. "Oh, um, thanks. I'm just... not really used to this kind of place," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and warm. "That's alright," he said, his hand coming to rest on the back of the booth, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. "The party scene isn't for everyone."

Your heart was pounding, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what was happening. His touch was light, almost teasing, and you couldn't help the way your body reacted, a shiver running down your spine.

Then, Suguru leaned in closer, his lips brushing near your ear, his voice smooth and dripping with curiosity. "So, why haven't you told me you weren't a freshman?"

You blinked, leaning back slightly, confusion crossing your face. The question caught you off guard, and you found yourself at a loss for words. He chuckled, the rich sound somehow audible even over the loud music, his eyes glinting with amusement. The laughter sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but feel even more exposed under his gaze.

"Megumi let me know," he continued, his tone casual but with a teasing edge. "I asked about you sometime after our little meeting. He mentioned you weren't exactly new here."

You let out a sigh, mixed with a small, awkward laugh, biting your lip as you decided to just be honest. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Well... I mean... I was a virgin," you admitted, the words almost getting lost in your throat.

Suguru's brow quirked up, his lips curling into a sly smile. "Was?" he echoed, his tone laced with intrigue.

You gave a small shrug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the way your heart hammered in your chest. "Yeah... I've, um, done some things since talking to you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru's eyes darkened, his gaze raking over you slowly, almost possessively, taking in every detail of your appearance. You could feel his eyes traveling over the curve of your neck, down to where the tight tube top hugged your chest, his eyes lingering for a moment before moving back up to meet yours. He licked his lips, his eyes hooded as he leaned in, closing the small distance between you.

He shifted closer, his thigh pressing against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, your body instinctively leaning into his. His voice dropped, growing lower, the words coming out smooth and suggestive. "You know... I'd love to see exactly what you've learned." His eyes flickered down to your lips, and before you could react, he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his touch both gentle and firm.

His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, testing. You could feel your heart skip a beat, your breath hitching in your throat. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for any hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in again, his lips pressing more firmly against yours, his other hand moving to cup your cheek.

You melted into the kiss, your body responding before your mind could catch up, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

His lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your head spin, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring, teasing.

You could taste the hint of alcohol on his breath, mixed with something distinctly him, and it made your head swim.

Suguru's hand moved from your chin, trailing down to rest on your waist, his fingers splayed against the exposed skin, his thumb brushing lightly against your side.

The touch sent a jolt through you, and you found yourself leaning further into him, your body craving more. His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head just right, allowing him to control the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting, your forehead resting against his as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes were half-lidded, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you, clearly pleased with the way you were reacting to him.

You didn't even hesitate as you leaned forward again, your lips seeking his, a soft whine escaping you when he pulled just out of reach, chuckling softly.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, "How about we take this somewhere a little more... private?"

You nodded, your mind too foggy with desire to think straight. "Okay," you breathed out, your voice shaky.

Suguru grinned, standing up from the booth and taking your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he led you through the crowded club. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your body buzzing with anticipation as you followed him, your eyes fixed on his broad back, the way his hair flowed freely as he moved.

He led you to a single bathroom, pushing the door open and pulling you inside before locking it behind you. The room was small, the dim light casting shadows across the tiled walls.

The moment the door clicked shut, Suguru's hands were on you again, pulling you close, his lips crashing against yours, the intensity of his kiss taking your breath away.

His mouth moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his tongue slipping past your lips, seeking out yours. He sucked on your tongue, swallowing every whimper and whine that escaped you, his kisses heated and demanding.

Your back hit the wall, the cold tiles a stark contrast to the heat of his body. You could feel his need—the way his body pressed into yours, his hands gripping your waist as if he couldn't get close enough.

You let out a soft moan, your arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. His lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, his breath warm against your skin. He moved to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking lightly, drawing out a gasp from you.

Suguru lifted you up effortlessly, his strong hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he pulled your legs to wrap around his waist. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him closer, your body craving more of the contact.

His hips grinded against you, moving in a steady rhythm, his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of your clothes, each movement sending a wave of heat through your body. His lips trailed up the side of your neck, his tongue flicking against your pulse point, his teeth nipping at your skin before he soothed it with his tongue.

Your eyes fluttered open, and for a split second, you thought you saw something—a shadowed figure stepping out from the corner of the small bathroom. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening as you focused on the figure.

It was Satoru.

His eyes were glowing faintly in the dim light, his tail swinging low against the ground, the tip flicking back and forth as if in anticipation.

Satoru just watched, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as his eyes locked onto you, then shifted to Suguru. He didn't say anything, just leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on you both with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

Suguru's hands moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. You let out a gasp, your eyes squeezing shut, trying to ignore the fact that Satoru was watching. Suguru's fingers brushed against you, his touch featherlight at first, teasing.

He found your clit, his long fingers moving in gentle, precise circles, the sensation making your head fall back against the wall, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

He watched your reaction, his eyes dark with desire, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as he continued. His fingers moved skillfully, the pressure just right, drawing out soft whimpers from you with every movement.

Your hips bucked against his hand, your body reacting on its own, craving more of the pleasure he was giving you.

You could feel Satoru's eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin, but all you could focus on was the way Suguru's fingers moved against you, the way his lips found yours again, swallowing every sound you made.

When your eyes fluttered open, you saw Satoru right next to you, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. He didn't spare Suguru a single glance; it was as if Suguru couldn't even see him.

As if understanding the confusion in your gaze, Satoru leaned forward, his nose brushing along the side of your face, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver through you.

"No one else can see me but you," he whispered, his tone almost mocking. His lips curved into a smirk as he watched your reaction, his eyes flickering down to where Suguru's hand was still moving against you.

Satoru's eyes darkened, and he let out a soft, almost dismissive hum. "Look at him," he said, his voice dripping with judgment. "He looks like he doesn't even know what he's doing. Doesn't know how to touch you properly."

You let out a shaky breath, your back arching as Suguru's fingers moved inside you, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You tried to focus on Suguru, on the way he was making you feel, but Satoru's presence was impossible to ignore. His words were a constant distraction, his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

"What... what are you doing here?" you managed to stutter out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes squeezed shut again, your body reacting to Suguru's touch, your hips bucking slightly against his hand.

Satoru tilted his head, a grin spreading across his face as he watched you. "Your request wasn't completed," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked, your mind struggling to keep up, confusion clouding your thoughts. "But... but I thought the request was completed," you stammered, your voice shaky.

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He chuckled, asking, "Don't you recall me saying it was never fulfilled? You're still a virgin."

You stuttered out a "B-but I—" but he cut you off, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tsk tsk, poor you. So shocked, yet made a deal with a demon."

Suguru's moans and groans in your ear were what pulled you out of your daze. The sound was raw, almost desperate, and it made your body shiver in response. But before you could react further, Satoru's expression twisted, a scowl forming as his eyes narrowed, his fangs glistening under the dim light. His annoyance was palpable, radiating off him like a heatwave.

Without warning, Satoru grabbed a fistful of Suguru's hair, yanking his head back with a rough pull. Suguru let out a shocked gasp, his eyes widening in confusion, his hands momentarily stilling on your body. His head turned, and like a veil had been lifted, his eyes landed on Satoru.

You could see the shock ripple across his features, his gaze taking in the dark eyes, the elongated canines, and the narrow, cold look Satoru was giving him.

Suguru's steps staggered back, his hold on you loosening as he stared at the demon before him. Satoru's head tilted slightly, his lips twitching up into a smirk, his amusement evident.

He leaned in close, his nose brushing along Suguru's neck, inhaling deeply. "You're handsome," he muttered, his voice low and almost teasing. "I'll give you that."

Suguru's eyes darted between you and Satoru, his expression shifting from shock to something akin to fear. His gaze bounced back and forth, searching for some kind of answer, but there was none.

You could see the fear settling in his eyes, the way his body tensed as Satoru's presence became more overbearing, more predatory.

Without giving Suguru a second to react, Satoru's lips were on his, locking them in a fierce kiss. Suguru let out a muffled, shocked sound, his eyes widening in surprise. Satoru's eyes, however, were focused, dark with a carnal, predatory glint that made your breath catch in your throat.

He kissed Suguru with an intensity that left no room for protest, his tongue pushing past Suguru's lips, licking into his mouth with a possessive fervor.

You could see the way Suguru's body shivered, the fight draining out of him as Satoru's tongue moved against his, the raw dominance in Satoru's kiss overpowering any resistance.

Slowly, Suguru's eyes began to glaze over, the tension leaving his body, his expression going blank as if all the fight had been taken from him.

Satoru finally pulled back, a grin on his face as he popped off Suguru's lips, a thin string of spit connecting their mouths. He brought his thumb up, rubbing away the saliva with a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes flicking to yours with a gleam of satisfaction. "Done~" he purred, his voice dripping with amusement.

All you could do was stare, your body trembling slightly in Suguru's loosened arms, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your gaze flicking from Satoru's satisfied smirk to Suguru's blank, dazed expression, your mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Satoru's hand moved to pet Suguru's head, his fingers threading through the dark strands. "Good boy," he murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. "Now, why don't you get on your knees and prepare her, hm?"

You could only watch, frozen in place as Suguru shifted beneath you, his hands moving you effortlessly. He repositioned you on his shoulders as he knelt on one knee, his eyes still glazed over, obedient.

You felt a jolt of panic as his fingers moved to pull down your underwear, the realization of what was happening breaking through the fog of confusion clouding your mind.

"Um, Suguru," you called awkwardly, your voice trembling. "I-I don't think we... you should do this." You tried to push yourself off his shoulder, your movements clumsy and desperate. You managed to get one leg back onto the floor with some difficulty, your heart pounding as you tried to free yourself.

But before you could hop down completely, you felt warm hands circling around your waist, stopping you in your tracks. "And where do you think you're going?" Satoru purred, his voice smooth and mocking, his hands tightening their hold on you.

Your head snapped up, your eyes meeting his briefly before you swallowed and looked away, your gaze shifting back to Suguru's blank, awaiting expression. "L-look, Satoru, this can't happen," you stammered, your voice shaky. "It's wrong. I wanted Suguru, but not like this... not like this."

Satoru's eyes softened, but it wasn't with kindness. It was pity, as if he found your resistance amusing. He raised a hand, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. "I don't think you understand, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice almost sweet. "I'm not doing this for you." He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he hummed, "I'm simply fulfilling my part of the deal, whether you like it or not."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get the words out, you felt something change. Your body went slack, the fight draining from your limbs. It was like a switch had been flipped, and you could feel yourself losing control, your mind still aware but your body no longer your own.

You felt your muscles moving, your hands reaching out to steady yourself as you climbed back onto Suguru's shoulders.

Satoru watched, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "That's right," he cooed, his voice soft, almost tender. "Just like that." His words washed over you, your body responding to his command, your movements automatic, robotic.

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, your heart aching with a mix of fear and helplessness as you settled back onto Suguru, your mind screaming even as your body obeyed.

"Don't worry," Satoru cooed, his voice sickeningly gentle as he yanked down your underwear, "I won't let you forget such an important night." His words sent a shiver down your spine, dread coiling in your stomach, but your body still moved, still obeyed the unspoken command.

Suguru's head dipped between your thighs, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin, his breath warm as he began his work. His tongue moved up and down your slit, slow and deliberate, tasting you.

The sensation made you shiver, your breath catching in your throat as his tongue pressed harder, licking a steady path. He sucked gently on your clit, his lips enclosing around the sensitive nub, and you couldn't help the gasp that escaped your lips, your back arching as pleasure shot through you.

You could feel Satoru's eyes on you, his gaze piercing as he watched every reaction, every movement. He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, swallowing the sounds that slipped out, his mouth moving against yours in a heated kiss.

It was possessive, demanding, and you felt your head spin, the taste of him mingling with the sensations Suguru was pulling from you.

Suguru's fingers slipped inside you, moving expertly as if he knew exactly what to do, exactly how to unravel you. His fingers curled, brushing against your g-spot, and your hips jerked in response, a moan caught in your throat.

You tried to fight it, tried to resist the pleasure coursing through your body, but it was like your mind and body were disconnected. Your hips began to rock against Suguru's hold, seeking more of the sensation, more of the pleasure, even as your mind screamed at you to stop.

Why couldn't you stop? Why couldn't you fight it? The pleasure was overwhelming, your body responding to every touch, every kiss, even though your heart pounded with fear, your mind clouded with shame.

You didn't want this. Not like this. But Satoru's voice, his presence, seemed to drown out every other thought, every attempt to resist.

His lips moved against your ear, his voice a low whisper. "That's it... just let go." His words felt like a command, and you felt your body responding, your muscles relaxing, your hips rocking in a steady rhythm against Suguru's mouth.

The tears slipped down your cheeks, a mix of frustration and helplessness, but the pleasure kept building, drowning out everything else, making it harder and harder to think.

Then, with one final, rough swipe of Suguru's tongue, you felt yourself unraveling. Your thighs shook, your back arching as the wave of release washed over you. You came, your entire body trembling, and a broken moan escaped your lips, your fingers clenching tightly in Suguru's hair.

Before you could fully recover, Satoru's hand was in Suguru's hair again, pulling him up roughly. He kissed Suguru deeply, his lips crashing against his with a ferocity that made Suguru's eyes widen in shock.

Satoru groaned into the kiss, the sound deep and raw as he licked into Suguru's mouth, his tongue exploring without hesitation. His eyes flashed a bright electric blue, filled with something primal, as he pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"Hold her," Satoru ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Suguru's expression remained blank, obedient, as he shifted you in his arms, turning you around so your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, his grip firm as he held your legs open, leaving you exposed.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest, fear and anticipation mixing as Satoru's eyes roamed over you. His hand slipped down to touch himself, stroking lazily as he watched you, his gaze heated.

Suguru's hold on you was steady, and you could feel the way his breath hitched, the way his chest rose and fell behind you. Satoru gave a soft hum of approval, his eyes flicking between you and Suguru.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice low and filled with dark amusement. He stepped forward, his length in hand, and you could feel your stomach tighten, your heart pounding even faster. "Did you ever imagine your first time like this?" he asked, his tone blunt, teasing, as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. The pressure was almost too much, and you felt the stretch, the burn, as he slowly pushed in. The sensation made your back arch, your fingers digging into Suguru's arms as you tried to adjust.

It was overwhelming, the fullness, the burn, but Satoru's pace was relentless, pushing deeper until he bottomed out, a long groan escaping his lips.

Satoru set a rough pace, his hips snapping forward with each thrust, his hands gripping you and Suguru tightly. You could feel the hardness of Suguru behind you, his body pressed against yours, his breath hot against your ear.

Satoru's hand moved to your hair, pulling your head back, and then he grabbed Suguru's hair too, holding you both in place as he thrust into you. The feeling was intense, the pleasure mixing with the pain, and you could hear the ragged breaths, the groans, filling the room.

"Maybe... I'll keep... you both," Satoru muttered, his voice low and taunting. "A cute little pair." His words sent a shiver through you, your body tensing, clenching down around him. The sensation pushed you over the edge, your vision flashing white as another orgasm tore through you.

Your body shook, sparks dancing behind your closed eyelids, the pleasure overwhelming as you let out a choked sob.

The only sounds in the room were your panting breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and Satoru's low, satisfied groans. He pulled out of you suddenly, still hard, and you winced at the emptiness. He hummed, content, as he looked down at your trembling form, his gaze filled with a dark satisfaction.

"Oh," he said, as if just remembering something. His eyes flicked to Suguru, and he licked his lips, a smirk forming. "Since you did such a good job following instructions, I think you deserve a reward." He nodded towards Suguru, his voice soft, almost mocking. "Set her down."

Suguru shifted, his grip loosening as he helped you to your feet. Your legs felt weak, trembling as you found your footing, and you swayed slightly, your body still reeling from everything that had happened.

Satoru watched, his eyes glinting with amusement as Suguru moved.

In one swift movement, Satoru pulled Suguru's cock out, the length hard and aching. Suguru's body shivered at the touch, his eyes closing briefly as Satoru's hand moved over him.

It didn't take long—Satoru's strokes were firm, practiced, and Suguru's breath hitched, his body tensing as he neared his release. With a low groan, Suguru came, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure washed over him.

Satoru's smirk widened as he watched Suguru unravel, his hand never slowing until the last shudder left Suguru's body. He turned his attention back to you, stepping closer, his gaze still dark with satisfaction. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up towards him, his eyes locking onto yours.

Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours in one last lingering kiss, the taste of him making your head spin, your body still trembling with the remnants of everything that had happened.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes glinted with a hint of amusement. "You'd have to be my favorite in a while," he murmured, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Be sure to request me again if you want a little more fun." His voice was smooth, teasing, before he stepped back, his form dissolving into a puff of smoke.

Just like that, he was gone.

It took a few seconds, but you felt your body slowly becoming your own again, your muscles relaxing, the control returning to you. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, the room feeling strangely empty without Satoru's overwhelming presence.

Suguru let out a soft groan, his eyes fluttering open as he seemed to come out of his daze. He looked around, a slight confusion in his gaze before his eyes found you. His brows furrowed, and he moved towards you quickly, concern etched across his features. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching your face. "Was I... too rough?" He seemed genuinely worried, his gaze dropping to your still unsteady form.

You nodded quickly, waving him off, trying to reassure him. "I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice a bit shaky but sincere. The awkward silence that followed was heavy, neither of you quite sure what to say or how to act after everything that had just transpired.

Suguru rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I, uh... I usually don't come that fast," he admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

You blinked, confused for a second, before the realization hit you—Suguru didn't remember anything with Satoru. He thought it had just been the two of you, fooling around.

You offered him a small smile, shaking your head. "No worries," you said, trying to ease his discomfort. "I... I enjoyed myself."

Suguru's eyes softened, his lips curving into a relieved smile. "You did?" he asked, and you nodded. He seemed to relax a bit, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Maybe we could try again sometime," he suggested, his eyes flicking around the dingy bathroom with a hint of amusement. "Somewhere better, though." His words made you laugh softly, the tension between you easing just a bit.

"Yeah," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'd like that."

Suguru's smile widened, his hand reaching out to grasp yours gently. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling you towards the door.

Together, you stepped out of the bathroom, leaving behind the chaos and the strange events of the night.

A/N: ah, not my best but i just wanted to wrap this up 😭

Tag List: idk12345675

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.