#also don't mind me just plotting on the fly

[bruhstories]

Bet III

p.1 here & p.2 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right.  He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying. 

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing. 

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is. 

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :( 

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her. 

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice. 

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought. 

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare  for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration. 

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask. 

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :( 

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends. 

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

[irrealisms]

Hey so I want to get into lifesteal. I don’t exactly feel like watching hundreds of hours of vods. I did also watch one of the three hour long summaries by one of the members but most of it went right over my head. At this point I’m mainly interested in watching pangi’s and clown’s pov. Could you catch me up with the lore and maybe recommend a few vods?

absolutely!!! the first thing i'll say is that lifesteal is sort of like hermitcraft or the life series (if you're familiar with those), in that it has multiple seasons, each of which is on a different server and comes with new teams/plotlines/builds/etc., although they do sometimes reference past seasons. so if you want to only watch some seasons and not others, that's an option! both pangi and clown joined in s2 and are still members today in s6; clown is imo most famous for his s3, which is where clownzy comes from.

(if you don't want to watch hundreds of hours of vods but don't mind watching like a hundred hours of edited videos i also have playlists of all the edited videos buuuuuut i assume that you do not want to do that either lol. i'll link the playlists of Just clown and Just pangi povs though bc those should b shorter!)

the good news is that clown doesn't really stream and does make edited videos, and pangi is also pretty good at making edited videos. the bad news is that pangi streams a lot. the other good news is that i love Talking About Lifesteal.

uhhhh first off. some edited-video playlists:

clownpierce s2 (11 videos, 2.5 hours)

pangi s2 (2 videos, 15 minutes)

clownpierce s3 (9 videos, 3.5 hours)

pangi s3 (5 videos, 45 minutes)

clownpierce s4 (3 videos, 1 hour)

pangi s4 (10 videos, 2 hours; has some videos not by pangi if they are relevant to pangi's story)

clownpierce s5 (7 videos, 3 hours)

pangi s5 (2 videos, 30 minutes)

[there are no clownpierce videos for s6]

pangi s6 (16 videos, 2.5 hours)

general overviews of the seasons and whether/how much i recommend them:

i quite like clownpierce's s2; it's kinda old and a bit messy, it's from when he and lifesteal really blew up as youtubers, and also from when he was cracked at crystal pvp. he's very involved in the ~main plot, between the M.O.B. (clown's team) and the Poggies (parrot's team). he gets some delightful monologues and fun moments. if you have derangements about Content and Narrative within mcyt the way i do i definitely recommend his s2. pangi ... only joins halfway through s2 and doesn't really do much lol

clownpierce's s3 is REALLY good. there is a reason that clownzy is the #1 lifesteal ship on ao3, and it's because of clown and branzy's s3. i personally prefer branzy pov of s3 tbh but clown pov is also quite good! evil clown runs casino, falls in love, does a lot of scamming and murder. very good imo. pangi's s3 is good but kind of forgettable imo, although it (especially the last video) is good as leadup for...

pangi's s4! once again i REALLY like pangi's s4. (not to brag but you can spot me in the twitch chat of one of his videos.) he gets very involved in the plot this season; he starts shit with the NPPP, clownpierce, and team awesome, in that order, and has a deeply messy relationship with princezam, including "princezam literally flying to the netherlands and using pangi's minecraft account to give pangi's hearts to his enemies", "princezam pretending to be on pangi's side when pangi declares himself king only to actually be double-agenting", and "pangi traps a suicidal princezam in bedrock". love those guys. and pangi's s2-3 (but ESPECIALLY the princezam empire) sets up their friendship a bit more if you end up interested in them! you can skip the valentines date & escape room if you are primarily watching for major plot events, they're very filler-y, but they're a fun time and they were pangi videos from s4 so

clown's s4 is. fine? it's got one video of "this event is also covered in the pangi playlist" (shades vs clown duel) and two videos that are fun for clown but pretty disconnected from The Rest Of The Server. that said if s3 got you invested in clownzy you should check out I Trapped Him In Minecraft's Safest Base. clown basically did not log on for most of s4 and it shows ToT

pangi's s5 is another. it's fine? it's really really short. it is literally two videos. one of my favorite s5 streams that never went anywhere or got made into a video is related to pangi but it, uh, never went anywhere or got made into a video lol. tl;dr: he and zam are teammates this season! for real this time and they aren't going to have a big dramatic breakup!!! this lasts...about half the season until they have a big dramatic breakup (not shown in the youtube videos, which are all set before that). he also got involved in some Dragon Egg Shenanigans and started some shit with subz early-season but nothing huge.

clown gets more involved again in s5! he's not quite as involved as he was in s2-3 but he is There for a lot of stuff: he makes the PMC with Minutetech, Leowook, and Sort Of Branzy, doesn't log on for a while, logs back on to help with the scavenger hunt during void arc (aka "do our scavenger hunt or else we turn all of spawn into void"), and then betrays the PMC for end-of-server. there's some good stuff in there imo.

pangi's s6 is ... mostly just Silly Bits rather than Getting Involved, both in videos and vods. that said it might be worth watching some of it as a realm viewer bc it's the origin of his current bits--eg the therapy thing is a lifesteal s6 original!

in terms of character stuff about the two of them:

with clown there are a couple things i want to talk about. the main thing everyone talks about is clownzy, and i'd also like to talk about the broader phenomenon that creates clownzy, which is that clown really loves having a Little Guy: someone who's kind of pathetic and bad at pvp, so that clown can Protect Them and be a little threatening to them and even more threatening to their enemies. the other thing i want to talk about is actually not clownzy-related? clown likes (and is quite good at!) playing evil menacing villains, but he's in many ways a believer in politeness and fair play; he's a very gracious loser, to the point where lifestealers have said before that they feel kinda bad when they win against him, and he tends to strongly favor fair fights over traps or exploits. which is interesting to me! uhhhh another thing that's interesting is that (as is the case with many/most lifestealers) his videos tend to editorialize; his s3 especially stands out to me for this, for a few moments but one that stands out to me is that when mr. cube successfully rigs the casino against him he just cuts this out of his video even though he's got the moments right before and right after it in his video.

with pangi something that sticks out to me is .... well first of all i could talk about his relationship with zam for aaaaaaages. there's a thing there of. he and zam are quite close ooc, and so zam tends to take him for granted as an ally, even when zam treats him quite poorly and doesn't prioritize him? this was most obvious in s4 but i would say even in s5 when they teamed up again uhhhhhh zam does very much (a) find another team that zam ends up much closer with (b) plan to spawnkill pangi. but pangi's still very much in a position where his strongest/closest relationship is usually zam. there's also a thing where he's currently known as a Silly Lighthearted Bits guy and not someone who gets seriously involved in the LoreTM and i think sometimes people forget that this wasn't always true? but even in s4 when he was much more involved in things there's some level of disconnect; in late s4 there was a lot of "major developments happen while pangi's asleep, the next day zam catches pangi up on everything that happened". and i would also argue that all of this is v related to pangi being european time zone and lifesteal being overwhelmingly american. it's harder for pangi to form strong bonds or get super involved in things when people are just... not online at the same time as him.

uhhhh also if u just want to jump in w s6 u can do that. pangi hasn't had any Big Lore this season you can just start watching him. go for it. clown doesn't really stream it bc he hates us but he hasn't done much in s6 so far so if he starts doing stuff, again, you won't be missing things, u can just jump in

i was going to talk more about the lore for each season beyond whether i recommend it, since you mostly wanted me to give summaries that catch you up, buuuuuut this post is already absurdly long. most of my favorite pangi vods either got made into videos or i mostly enjoy them for other characters (e.g. there are at least three pangi s4 vods i really like because zam is being incredibly suicidal in them lol) BUT. have the princezam-pangi divorce vod from s5 in which zam tries to spawnkill pangi bc zam needs hearts and pangi gets away and then they argue for like an hour. this is the aforementioned stream that never got made into a video. i know it is a zam pov stream but i really like it for pangi as well :3

if you prefer vods to edited videos and want me to recommend a few others that did make it to videos, or if you want a more in-depth summary of any of the seasons: just send another ask and i will happily yap more!!! this is kinda all over the place bc i'm sick rn but i will do my best. i am torn between "i hope this wasn't too long" and "i am worried it should have been significantly longer in order to actually answer your questions abt lore instead of just linking videos" lol but ! as i said feel free to just, send another ask, u have no idea how excited i was to get this ask, i love talking about lifesteal ^w^

[hecrtled]

JUST BECAUSE FAWN COULDN'T fly around outside the way she'd like didn't mean she had to stay idle! one way or another , word had spread amongst the various critters across the isle of the little fairy who was great with patching up bumps and bruises , settling disputes and making new animal friends ! and so fawn had taken it quickly upon herself to make the phrase mi casa , es tu casa quite literal. raccoons and rats , mimicimps and cheshire cats had all found their way to no. 210 eventually , and fawn was happy to help them!

today she helping a phoenix-pigeon , gideon , who was AWFULLY flighty. something about the cold weather chills just really eating up the poor little guy , and getting his feathers all up in a knot ! ( when he had them anyways. ) and as she had written down poor gideon's symptoms and brought her charcoal stick to poke at her cheek , she had told the critter about the human girl who lived here. that she was a little on the quiet side , but fawn had a REALLY good feeling about her. like all she needs is a good friend. —and actually gideon might be a little similar! after all , it sounded to fawn like he was just stressed from winter weather....

...oh ! — her wings glowed as motion was heard from the bigger room just beside. spinning towards the noise , fawn flittered in place before clipping her leaflet back onto her belt and clapping her hands twice.

❛ speaking of which ! gideon , i need you to put on your biggest , BRIGHTEST smile because she's back ! wait right here , i'll go get her , to introduce you two ! ❜

and with that , fawn zipped to the entrance hall right as luna stepped beyond the threshold. practically beaming , she lifted her hand and waved ! ( nevermind that the living room had become a whirlwind of human furniture and scorch marks in luna's not-so-long absence... )

@clxscdeyes / roommates !

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[dolche-tejada]

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[aureatelys]

nobody does it like you do

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 10k.... a/n: dbf!hotch party ended months ago but im still here

summary:

You don't mean to start something with your dad's best friend during your summer break.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, dbf!hotch yippee, no y/n, reader is mid-20s and hotch is mid 40s, reader is kind of a brat and also very sexual and forward :), car sex, handjobs in car, v fingering, dom/sub, dirty talk, light degradation kink, size kink if u squint, light choking at the end!, unprotected sex, tbh some plot to mostly porn

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re nearly half-naked when you first meet him.

It was the first morning back at home during your summer break in your first year of your Master’s program. You hadn’t been home in several months, blaming your rigorous coursework and the full-time job you had, but luckily you were able to use nearly a month’s worth of PTO to coincide with your summer off.

You had gotten in late after flying across the country, but your body still woke up like clockwork just before 9 am.

Currently, as you make eye contact with the tallest and most attractive man you have ever met while wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass, you couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

You had heard your dad rave about what basically sounded like a crush he had over the phone for nearly a year. Aaron Hotchner apparently works with your father at the FBI, albeit in a different department, and they hit it off at a recent gala by discussing golf, expensive scotch, and being annoyed about the latest budget cuts. One Saturday at the country club’s golf course later, your father was hooked, and Aaron has been over at the house nearly every weekend since.

You remember your dad saying something about how he’s hardworking, better than he is at golf, and much nicer than he looks. He didn’t say anything about how hot he was.  

You were stumbling out your bedroom and rubbing at your eyes when you had nearly run into him on the way to the bathroom. You’re still waking up, but you see the genuine surprise and something like want on his face before it’s gone, a neutral expression taking over his handsome features. The clench in his jaw betrays him.

“Excuse me,” he says. His voice is low, deep in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I was just heading into the restroom.”

You blink at him, your mind still not having not caught up yet. “Uhm.”

“I can just go to the one downstairs,” he says, giving you an easy smile. It makes him look even more devastatingly attractive and you feel dazed. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back downstairs without another word.

You distantly hear your father downstairs calling your name and asking if you’re awake. You feel rooted to the spot, flustered.

You try your best to go through your normal bathroom routine, but your heart still hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and even longer since you’ve slept with someone, thus you’ve had a lot of quality time with yourself recently, so seeing the way this older man reacted to you was enough to have you preening a bit. You weren’t imagining it, right?

You tell yourself that you’re feeling lazy after a long day of traveling and not wanting to change yet as you head downstairs into the kitchen, absolutely not hiking your shorts up a little and shimmying your tank top down.

“Good morning,” you chirp as you step into the kitchen. Your dad is already sitting at the dining table, most likely finishing his second cup of coffee, and his face lights up when he sees you as if he wasn’t the one to pick you up from the airport late last night. Aaron is standing in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, pouring into a travel mug.

You ignore the way you can feel Aaron’s dark eyes rove over you; the top of your breasts nearly threatening to spill out, your hard nipples poking through your top, and the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath your shorts.

“Morning, pumpkin,” your dad says cheerily, clearly oblivious to what’s going on between his friend and his own daughter. “This is Aaron, he works at the Bureau with me, I told you about him?”

You vaguely remember when you stalked through his Facebook profile several months ago after your father was tagged with him multiple times. The pictures of him were always blurry, never giving you anything to go off of.

As you stand next to him in the kitchen and crane your neck up to look at him, you realize the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s handsome, almost boy-ish with the way his hair is clean and not gelled down like in the pictures, flopping in front of his forehead. He’s wearing a tight red polo, showcasing his broad shoulders and forearms in a way that makes you want to drool a bit. His brow is pinched, jaw tense, and you almost think you can hear his teeth grinding when he attempts to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, giving him an innocent smile. You ignore the mug your dad must have left on the counter for you and stand up on your tiptoes to retrieve one from the overhead cupboard.

You feel a rush of exhilaration when you hear Aaron suck in a breath at the way your tank top hikes up your stomach. When you turn back to him, because he is technically in the way of the coffee machine, you catch the way his eyes sharpen and the way his hand grasps at the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.

And then it’s gone, just like earlier, replaced with something almost professional, probably the same expression he makes when something ticks him off at work.

Interesting.

“Aaron is fine,” he says, stepping out of the way of the coffee machine and then holds his hand out for you to shake.

You can feel your dad watching you, so you make an effort to tone it down a bit. You put your hand in his, swallowing when you notice just how large his hands are and the way he grips you a bit tighter than what would be considered professional. When you look back up at him, there’s something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” you repeat. It’s worth it to see a smile grace his face, replacing that smirk, and causing something fuzzy settle in your chest.

When he lets go and makes his way to sit across your dad at the table, you ignore how your hand suddenly feels like it’s burning.

“We’re about to head to the golf course here in a couple of minutes if you wanted to join?” your dad asks as you pour your coffee and sit down at the head of the table.

You hum and experimentally kick your feet out in Aaron’s direction to where he sits to your left. You make contact with his knee, and you watch almost gleefully as Aaron just barely jumps in his seat. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, just quietly sips at his coffee. It really shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. “I’m okay, I was just planning on hanging out here and catch up on my shows.”

“You sure, pumpkin? I know it’s been a while since you were out on the course but…”

“I think that’s exactly why I shouldn’t come with you,” you laugh. You pull your chair up closer to the table, making it look like you were just trying to get comfortable, when really you just wanted to cop more of a feel of Aaron’s thighs.

“Alright, alright,” your father says, putting his hands up in defeat. “But don’t forget about the retreat later this week with the guys.”

You pause from where you were just about to dig your toes underneath his thigh. “Retreat?”

“I told you about it when I picked you up last night!”

“I think you forgot that you picked me up at one in the morning and I was half-asleep in the car,” you roll your eyes. “But of course I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Your dad says with that big smile on his face that always makes you feel nostalgic. You don’t really want to go, was honestly just planning on relaxing at home, but if it makes your dad happy and you get to spend more time with him, then you’ll do almost anything.

And if Aaron’s coming too, then well…

Your dad gets up to put his mug in the sink and starts making his way out of the dining room. “You ready to go, Hotchner?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aaron says, a barely detectable rasp to his voice that has you hiding a smile in your mug.

You’re about to put your foot down when you feel thick fingers circling your ankle and lifting your leg up until your ankle is resting on Aaron’s knee. You nearly squeak in surprise, but the look on Aaron’s face stops you.

He would look calm, composed even, if you didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes have darkened. His brow is pinched, lips pressed into a thin line, as he tightens his grip on your ankle and asks in a low voice “What kind of game are you playing here?”

Not expecting confrontation, you don’t know what to say. Your breath gets stuck in your chest, something about the glare he’s giving you keeps you rooted in your chair.

Because there’s really only two options here. He’s your dad’s best friend, at least 20 years older than you, and you really have no business in sexually riling up this guy you’ve never met before until today. You can apologize, give him a genuine and friendly smile, and go back to your room and pretend this never happened and you weren’t just throwing yourself at some hot older man.

But there’s something about Aaron that you can’t quite put your finger on. You wonder what it would be like to see him without those walls he undoubtedly keeps up all the time, see him come undone. You can tell from his Facebook pictures that he’s a bigshot of some kind, always wearing a fitted suit and not a hair out of place. You can see that now, in his pressed polo and matching belt, that he likes control, his skin nearly thrumming with it. And that’s something you’ve always enjoyed playing with.

You noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger, and the way he’s gazing into you now. The hot trail his hand leaves behind as he starts running up your shin, past your knee, and grip at the meat of your thigh says all you need to know.

“What game?” you say, innocently. You even play it up a bit by batting your lashes at him.

His grip on your thigh tightens, and it feels so good, and it’s been so long, you resist rolling your eyes back and instead spread your legs just a bit underneath the table.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were such a brat,” he mutters.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as out of breath as you feel.

Aaron doesn’t say anything at that, just hums thoughtfully. You don’t have a chance to backpedal, redirect the conversation if you were reading the whole situation wrong, before he’s placing your leg back on the floor with a gentle hand on your ankle and getting up.

“We can talk more about what you want to do after school later,” he says, raising his voice a bit in an effort to appear like he wasn’t just groping you underneath the table.

You almost don’t hear what he says because your gaze is fixed on the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth nearly waters, and just knowing that you’re having the same kind of effect on him as he has on you has heat pooling between your thighs.

You shake your head, resisting the thoughts of throwing yourself on your knees in front of him and taking him in your mouth right in the dining room. You grin up at him and, in an impulsive decision that you’re secretly proud of, you reach over to put a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

“Absolutely, Mr. Hotchner.”

Your smile grows wider at the stormy glare he gives you before he heads out of the dining room, imperceptibly adjusting himself in his pants. Your eyes follow him out, cheeks nearly starting to hurt from how hard you’re smiling because damn, does his ass look good.

It’s your summer vacation, you may as well have some fun, right?

-

Since then, you’ve barely seen Aaron.

You had made Aaron and your father sandwiches, knowing they’d be home by the afternoon. You tried not to let the fact that you were upset, disappointed even, show on your face when your dad came home by himself and told you that Aaron got called for a case.

You knew from your dad that this was a normal occurrence for Aaron and that they’ve both gotten used to it. So many times there would be a gala or a party at the house and he would be called away to chase down a murderer or a rapist or a combination of the two.

You tried not to let it get to you, because seriously, you just met him, but also, it’s not like he owes you anything. But you really hoped that he wouldn’t miss the retreat later that week. Just imagining spending time with him in your lone hotel room was enough to make you dizzy.

So, you distracted yourself. You caught up on your emails, watched those shows that had been piling up in your watch later list, and spent time with your dad at the golf course or whatever else he wanted to do that day. It was nice spending your summer vacation with your dad and catching up on what he does at his boring administrative job and the lack of both of your love lives.

By the time Friday rolled around, there was still nothing but radio silence from Aaron, at least you assumed since your dad hadn’t mentioned him. You almost wish you had asked for his phone number before he left, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to waste a whole week sitting by your cellphone, waiting for a probably dry text from some guy.

A really hot, older guy that definitely has control issues and could toss you around like a ragdoll.

You’re throwing your bag in your car’s backseat and was about to admit defeat, that maybe he really wasn’t going to make it, when a black Range Rover comes skidding down your street and into your driveway.

“There he is,” your dad said in a sing-song voice, sounding about as giddy as you felt.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see him stepping out of his car, because how the hell is it possible for a man to look so attractive doing something so mundane?

And then your eyes nearly bug out because he has his suit jacket hanging from his arm, a duffel bag in the other, and is wearing a white dress shirt so tight that you could see the bulge of his biceps and the softness of his stomach.

“Sorry I’m late,” Aaron says, jogging up to where you and father were. “We just got back a couple hours ago.”

He looks at you then with those pretty brown eyes, looking genuinely apologetic, and the disappointment that you were afraid was going to take a permanent place in your chest gently unravels.

“It’s no problem, Hotch,” your dad waves him off. “We’re still waiting for some of the other guys, so you made it just in time.”

“Great,” Aaron breathes in relief. “I’m going to go change then, I’ll be right back.” His eyes flit towards you again, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t still staring at him. They’re piercing, undoubtedly beckoning you to follow him, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

You feel a rush of excitement shooting through you as you watch him head towards the front door, eyes fixated on his hips. There was no clearer sign than that one, though you try not to roll your eyes fondly at the fact that your dad evidently did not notice as he goes back to playing Tetris with his bags in the trunk.

You wait a couple of minutes, pretending to play on your phone, and then exclaim “Oops, I almost forgot my phone charger! I’m going to run upstairs and get it.”

Your dad just gives an “Okie dokie, sweetie,” and then his phone rings with who you assume is one of his friends you’re waiting for.

You try to not sprint to the front door, instead taking a deep breath and walking in what you hope looks like a normal pace. However, as soon as the front door clicked shut, you run up the stairs, hoping Aaron chose your bathroom rather than the one downstairs.

Not spotting him waiting outside the bathroom, your heart nearly drops out from underneath you, however you notice the closed door and the soft golden light from underneath telling you that you were right.

You were right and maybe you weren’t imagining things. He knew you would listen to his unspoken instructions and follow him. You weren’t a profiler like him, not an expert at studying other people’s body language, but there was nothing fake about the fact that he got hard at your dining room table and you had only known each other for 10 minutes that Sunday.

The click of the door opening disrupts your thoughts. You’re about to grin up at Aaron, say something cute like how you’ve missed him or something more playful like asking why he hasn’t called you.

But you don’t get the chance because you’re suddenly being pressed up against the wall, warm hands on your hips, and Aaron’s soft mouth pressing into yours.

He swallows your gasp, his fingers inching up the hem of your tank top to touch the skin of your waist and kisses the life out of you. His lips are chapped and he tastes fresh, like he had a breath mint on the drive here, and the thought that he had that foresight just for you makes your knees weak.

He kisses you deeply, not even bothering to start gentle like so many other boys have tried before, and it’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time. You’re helpless to kiss back, your body finally catching up, and your hands come up to tangle at the soft strands at the nape of his neck.

He hums against your lips at that, his hands starting to move underneath your shirt to trace the swell of your breasts through your bra. It tickles, and you squirm a little and huff a laugh against his mouth before you can help it.

Before you could apologize and tell him to stop tickling you, his hands press your hips harder against the wall and his lips break away from yours. You attempt to chase him, because you were definitely not done making out, when Aaron tuts at you.

“Behave,” he warns lowly, but he has a full-blown smirk now. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips red and glistening. He looks so unbearingly sexy when he’s reprimanding you, he just makes it so easy for you to tease him.

“Or what?” You ask, smiling up at him. You watch as his smirk falters, brows furrowing, and something like frustration and exasperation blooms on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron breathed, before he’s leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against the spot where your shoulder and neck meets and your knees actually buckle this time, something like a strangled moan coming out of your mouth and catching you by surprise. “Looks like you do know how to watch that mouth of yours.”

Any snarky comeback you have dies in your throat because you did not expect Aaron to have that kind of dirty mouth on him. Molten heat starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach, between your thighs, as he slips the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to trace your collarbone with his lips.

“Aaron…,” you whisper, letting your hands fall from his nape to grab at his shoulders, trail down to grope at his biceps. The sleek muscle you can feel even through the fabric of his polo that he changed into, tensing and flexing as he pushes at you, sends your mind reeling.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mutters against your shoulder, his warm breath and the pet name making you feel paralyzed. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him biting a mark onto your chest, right underneath your collarbone, the pain and pleasure tingling all the way down to your cunt. You say something unintelligible, brain feeling muddled, because holy shit.

“Hey pumpkin, did your find your charger? We have to get moving!” You hear your dad’s voice from downstairs and barely swallow back a gasp before Aaron’s hand is pressed over your mouth to quiet you. You hate that that does absolutely nothing to help the growing arousal between your thighs.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours. His eyes have gotten impossibly darker, soft hair falling against his forehead. The wild desire and excitement are clear on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at you to signal you to behave before he lifts his palm off your face.

“Coming!” you yell back at him, hoping the strain in your voice isn’t as obvious to him as it is to you.

Aaron hums, something smug playing at his lips. “Maybe later.”

And it’s ridiculous. Aaron Hotchner, stoic Unit Chief of an FBI unit, best friend of your dad, and 20 years older than you just made out with you so hard that your knees buckled and made a joke about making you come?

You huff a laugh, pushing at his shoulder so you can wriggle out of his grip. He lets go immediately, stepping back to give you several feet of space, and you try not to think about how you already miss the heat and weight of his body against yours.

You’re about to run downstairs, an excuse about realizing you already packed your charger on the tip of your tongue, when Aaron is circling his fingers around your wrist. You look back at him curiously, because as much as you want to, there definitely isn’t time for him to ravage you in your bedroom.

He looks much more composed now, more like his professional SSA Aaron Hotchner self, but you catch the way his eyes linger on the way your shorts ride up high and the soft expanse of your thighs. “I’m serious. We’ll finish this later.”

And it’s the way he doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather a guarantee. Like nothing is going to stop him from having his way with you.

The thought of being completely at Aaron’s mercy has you breathless, feeling a flush rise on your face and your pulse between your legs. He has you stunned speechless, because you’ve never been with someone who has made you feel complete and utter want. You look at him now, chest imperceptibly heaving and making that olive green polo tug across the wide expanse of his chest, you realize that he may just ruin other people for you completely.

Your throat clicks when you clear it, and you only feel a little embarrassed when Aaron doesn’t hide his smirk at you. All words have died in your throat, so you nod instead, hoping that he will take that as an answer.

If possible, Aaron looks even more smug at that.

“Good girl.”

-

The drive to the hotel where the retreat is being held is only 2 hours away, which would’ve been perfectly easy, if you weren’t stuck in the car with Aaron.

You were planning on driving your own car with the top down, wind in your hair, and music blasting. You wanted to spend at least part of your summer vacation doing girly summery things, such as driving into the night with your hair whipping your face and feeling the humidity making your tank top stick to your back.

You also thought you would have time to yourself to think about Aaron and what the hell you got yourself into.

Instead, because you can’t tell if the universe loves or hates you, you have to take Aaron’s Range Rover because everyone else’s cars are packed full, and your dad wouldn’t let you drive by yourself. You tried not to show the excitement bloom on your face when your dad told you, but by the pointed look that Aaron gave you, you didn’t do a very good job.

So, it’s just you, Aaron, and the incredibly tangible sexual tension between you.

The first 30 minutes was easy. It took a while for everyone to find the correct route and there was a lengthy discussion over the phone about whether anyone wanted to stop anywhere for any reason. Eventually, you and at least 4 other similarly lavish cars made it onto the highway.

Aaron was silent for most of the phone call, saying that he didn’t have anywhere he wanted to stop at, and was just looking forward to the fancy clawfoot tub the hotel advertised on their website. You threw a glance at him at that, wondering if he was trying to tell you that he wanted to fuck in the bathtub, but nope. His eyes were firmly on the road, both arms on the steering wheel like a responsible adult or whatever.

You weren’t sure how he was able to act like nothing happened—like you weren’t about to let him just fuck you up against the wall in your childhood home, because currently, you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin from the nervous energy thrumming through you.

You fully ogle him now since it’s not like you have anything to hide. Even his side profile is attractive, but at this point you’re not surprised. Everything you’ve been noticing about him has been steadily driving you wild; the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint traces of stubble, and the way his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he deadpans “You’re staring.”

You grin at him before you could help it. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome. They should study you in art classes, maybe you can even get naked for it?”

The snort that comes out of Aaron’s mouth is sudden, and by the way his eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking hard, he notices as well. “You really are insatiable.”

“You say that like we’ve even done anything yet,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, turning your head to the window to stare at the sun setting. It would be nighttime by the time you got to the hotel, but you’re already sleepy and debating taking a nap while Aaron drives.

You jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, large and warm. You’ve had other men put their hand on your thigh while they drive and it’s nice, maybe even comforting at times, but with Aaron, the action feels darker. It feels more possessive, heated, and just the sight of his huge hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh has you unconsciously squeezing your legs, trapping the tips of his fingers between them.

“Can you behave?” he wondered out loud. “Because you’re not showing me that you can until we get to the hotel.”

The challenge is clear in the deep timbre of his voice, nearly condescending in a way that makes your breath quicken. You vaguely thought about what he had planned for you at the hotel, luckily you had a whole room to yourself since none of your dad’s friends’ daughters wanted to come. You don’t necessarily blame them—you probably wouldn’t have come either if it weren’t for Aaron and the undoubtable promise that you will have the best sex of your life.

And you do want to wait, honestly. But right now, watching the way his biceps flex in the golden light and remembering the way he desperately grabbed at your hips has you rethinking.

So, you give him an innocent smile, reminiscent of the one you gave him earlier this week, and take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers together. The action is slightly risky, implying something about your relationship that neither have you discussed. You may be overthinking it, worried that Aaron would think you’re jumping to conclusions, but all of your reservations disappear when Aaron’s hand squeezes yours and brings your joined hands to rest in his lap.

He gives you a soft smile, one you’ve never seen before that makes your chest tighten, and turns his gaze back on the road.

The following 10 minutes are quiet besides the soft roar of the engine and the gentle hum of the radio. The sun setting washes the interior of the car with a warm gold, and you can’t help but notice the way both of your hands, still clasped together, just look so good together. Like you perfectly complemented each other.

You blame it on the fact that you’re starting to get bored when you wiggle your hand to free yourself from Aaron’s grasp to run your fingers along the top of his hands. You trace each knuckle before tracking the visible veins with a light touch, your fingers running up his wrist and to his forearm. The dusting of hair is soothing when you place a firmer hand onto his forearm, gripping it, and your heart thuds in your chest when you notice your thumb and middle finger can’t even touch each other.

He's just so big. His arms, his hands, his shoulders. The way he can so easily overpower you, manhandle you, domineering in a way that makes you want to act out even more just to see what he would do.

He throws you a curious glance when your hand moves up to his bicep, squeezing and feeling.

“Just touching,” you say, and then Aaron’s eyes are back on the road.

The next thing you do is completely spontaneous, out of character for you even, however you know being impulsive is what got you here in the first place.

You place your hand on his crotch.

He doesn’t jump because, of course not. If anything, he was expecting it by the way he just gives you another curious look. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the sudden clenching of his jaw.

“Still just touching,” you repeat and turn your focus to your phone with your free hand, leaving your other hand in his lap.

You scroll mindlessly through several different apps for a couple minutes, not even reading anything because you’re too stunned with the fact that Aaron didn’t say anything or remind you to be on your best behavior. Your hand is still precariously placed on his crotch, the seam of his jeans warm against the palm of your hand.

You start scrolling more intently now, reading the entirety of at least every other post, before you start tentatively rubbing your fingers on where you can definitely feel the head of his dick through his pants. Aaron inhales sharply, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and it’s all the permission you need.

You start pressing more firmly, grabbing him through his jeans to the best of your ability and tracing the line of his slowly hardening cock through the rough material. You grope at him, nearly shamelessly now, and it takes all of your willpower to not throw your phone to the backseat and jump into his lap.

Instead, you place your phone at your feet and turn your body towards him. His back is ramrod straight and his hands are grasping at the steering wheel like his life depends on it. If anyone passing by looked through the window, they would just assume that Aaron was one of those extremely attentive drivers. However, up close, you can see the tense line of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched together, and the way he’s attempting to hide the way he’s starting to breathe heavily through slightly parted lips.

It's intoxicating, and you want more.

Your hand begins to move up his zipper to the top button of his jeans. His eyes dart to you then, craning his neck slightly to look at you but also making sure to keep his eyes on the road, as if the road is even that busy.

“You really can’t listen, can you?”

That condescending tone again makes your brain nearly short-circuit. It’s like a dam breaks because suddenly you’re leaning over the console, making your breasts nearly spill out from your tank top, and you want him in your mouth and coming down your throat if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. “Can I?”

 “Can you what, sweetheart? Use your words.”

Christ. “Please, can I suck on your cock?”

He hums nonchalantly, as if you can’t see the way he shifts in his seat or the way he’s hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. “’Please?’ Looks like you do have some manners.”

And then he’s taking his cock out and you nearly combust on the spot. He’s not fully hard, but you still want nothing more than to feel him on your tongue.

You’re just about to unbuckle your seatbelt to throw yourself into his lap before he stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Not your mouth, we don’t want other people to know what a dirty girl you are. Use your hands,” he says, nonchalant again in a way that makes your heart race and the ache between your thighs grow.

Although the idea of being caught with your head in his lap and cock down your throat suddenly sounds extremely appealing in a way you’ve never thought of before, you have no choice but to listen and follow his instructions.

You hesitatingly wrap your hand around him, watching in near fascination at the drop of precum that leaks out. He’s big here too, satisfyingly thick and warm in your hand. You move your hand up to smear the wetness around him and then start a steady rhythm of pumping his cock.

A strangled groan comes out of Aaron eventually, and you watch as he attempts to throw his head back in ecstasy while still watching the road with half-lidded eyes. The wide expanse of his pretty throat tempts you, imagining what it would be like to pepper kisses up to his tense jaw to help him relax.

He’s fully hard now, precum steadily leaking out and coating the palm of your hand. You attempt to vary your actions; twisting on the upstroke, squeezing when you’re at the base, or tracing your thumb against the head of his cock. The loud squelching noise makes you feel embarrassed and hot all at the same time, the way it’s drowning out the radio’s music. Your mouth waters as you watch the head of his dick disappear in your fist, wishing you could taste him or see the sheer bliss on his face as he fucks your mouth.

“You couldn’t even wait to get your hands on me, could you?” Aaron murmured, nearly sneering at you. “I bet if I let you, you would let me pull over and fuck you here on the side of the road.”

You swallow nervously, clenching your thighs and trying to ignore the obvious wetness you can feel in your own panties. You squeeze him harder, enthralled by the feeling of his hot flesh against you, and breathlessly whisper “I would.”

He hisses at that, nearly bucking his hips up to follow your hand. “You would let me fuck you anywhere I want.”

It wasn’t a question, but you still feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”

Just then, Aaron’s phone rings from the phone mount on the dashboard. Dread and something awfully similar to delight prickles at the back of your neck when you notice the caller ID being your father. You’re about to retract your hand until Aaron gives you a look out of the corner of your eye, almost like a glare, before his own hand is hot over yours to keep you there.

“Keep going.”

Before you can think of a snarky remark, Aaron swipes at his phone to answer.

“Hotchner.” Nonchalant, casual, as if he doesn’t have his leaking cock in the hands of his best friend’s daughter.

“Hey Hotch, we’re coming up on a great burger joint here in a couple of miles and I wanted to see if you guys were alright with that? I think we lost you.”

You must have been extremely distracted because you’re just now noticing you can’t see your father’s car ahead of you anymore. There are only a few cars on the highway now after finally passing all the city traffic, now driving through a somewhat rural area. You don’t blame yourself after all, because how often do you find yourself giving handjobs to hot older men in their cars?

“I was actually thinking of pulling over at a rest stop, someone’s not feeling well.” Aaron cranes his neck, raising an eyebrow at you.

Even in the darkness of the summer evening and the sparse streetlights bouncing off the dashboard, the pure and primal desire swimming in his eyes is clear and causes a flush to rise to your face.

“Yeah, it must have been lunch,” you attempt to joke, hoping that the rasp in your voice doesn’t give you away. You feel Aaron’s cock twitch in your hand.

Your dad hums through the tinny speakers. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good.”

You notice the car slowing down, not realizing that you were pulling up to a secluded area of a rest stop, right underneath a tree. You glance out the window and take in the fact that the nearest car is over 10 spots away and the closest streetlight is burnt out. You think of the discreet dark color of the car and the tinted windows. Anticipation curls at the bottom of your stomach.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back on the road.” And then Aaron immediately hangs up, parks the car, and leans over the console to kiss you with a hand cradling your cheek.

He cuts to the chase again, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. His mouth is soft but he’s assertive even like this. His hand moves to the back of your neck, taking a hold of you, and your mouth opens in a moan before you can stop yourself, allowing Aaron’s tongue to brush against yours.

When he pulls back, something like a needy whine erupts from your throat. You don’t realize that your hands moved to grasp at his polo, leaving Aaron’s cock free and pressed against his stomach.

“You drive me crazy,” Aaron mutters, brushing a lock of hair behind your head. His gesture and words are impossibly soft, a complete contrast to how he was kissing you, making your breath stutter in your chest.

“You drive me crazy,” you whisper breathily. “Please fuck me?”

He huffs a laugh at that, something you’re slowly starting to become familiar with, and tightens his hold on the back of your neck. There’s nothing soft in his eyes anymore. “Get in the back, now.”

You scramble to get out of the car, legs nearly shaking. The summer humidity is cloying, suffocating, and you rush to open the door to crawl in the backseat.

The seats are just as large and plush as up front, however there’s definitely more foot room that you’re sure Aaron will appreciate. You’re waiting in the middle seat, legs tucked underneath you, as you watch Aaron tuck himself back into his jeans and step out of the car with an air of nonchalance that somehow makes him even more attractive.

When he opens the door to climb into the back, your eyes meet and you suddenly feel frozen to the spot, because he starts to encroach into your space, nearly predatory. There’s a glint in his eyes as he places his hand on your back, lowering you so you’re laying on the seats. You unconsciously spread your legs so he could situate himself between them, and the feeling of his large and warm body between your thighs has you hitching them up on his hips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Aaron murmurs before ducking his head to press his mouth against your jawline, down your neck, and finally finally sucking a mark where your shoulder meets.

You exhale a shaky moan, bringing your hands up to run down his back and feel how wide his shoulders are and how you can feel his muscles tense as he moves. The wet heat of his mouth, his obscenely large hands on your hips, and the way his figure nearly engulfs you is mesmerizing.

He pulls back to take a look at you, thumb coming up to press into the mark he made and putting light pressure against your neck. There’s something wild and possessive in his eyes, his lips parted like he can’t believe what’s happening. “There you go. Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”

It feels like your breath is knocked out of you and replaced with something equally possessive. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Something dark passes over his face. “And here I thought you were going to behave.”

Before you could say anything, Aaron is swiftly lifting your tank top up and over your head, throwing it somewhere towards the passenger seat, and groping your tits. He thumbs at your nipples, watching in awe as you arch your back and push your chest further into his hands. The sudden sensation, pleasure zinging up your spine, after being teased for an entire week is dizzying and you want to drown in it.

“You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?” Aaron says, casually, as he pinches at your nipples. You choke on your moan, the initial sting melting into pleasure that makes you feel drunk. “You’re practically begging for my cock.”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, running up to tangle the soft hairs at the nape of his neck between your fingers. “I need your cock inside me.”

He leans down to suck one of your nipples in his mouth, deft fingers continuing on the other. His mouth is so deliciously wet and hot, expertly licking around you in a way that’s slowly unraveling you, and you shiver when you think about where else his mouth can be of use. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and you cant your hips up desperately in an effort to gain some sort of friction against the nearly overbearing ache between your thighs.

His hands come down to press your hips down in an effort to make you stop squirming and you feel him shift until his knee is pressing between your legs and against your pussy through your shorts. The feeling of his warm hands on you and the seam of your shorts rubbing against your clit causes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine to escape your throat.

“You’re teasing me,” you pant, tugging at his hair experimentally.

Another raspy groan erupts from Aaron and, if possible, you feel hotter. His mouth detaches from your nipple and you instantly miss the hot heat of his mouth, until he says “And what if I want to taste that pretty little cunt of yours?”

Imagining Aaron pressing open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, breathing hotly against your panties until he’s pressing his tongue against you, smearing even more wetness around until you’re nearly dripping onto the expensive upholstery has you whimpering. Your mind races as you imagine him pulling your panties aside so he can press his soft mouth against you, licking and lapping at your pussy like you’re a five-course meal, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming his name and begging him to stop.

No words come out, mind nearly melted just at the thought of Aaron looking up at you from between your thighs and his mouth on your cunt. Instead, you let out a breathless moan and attempt to grind down against Aaron’s knee, chasing the little stimulation you can get.

Aaron licks his lips as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His thumbs briefly traces your hips, and you nearly miss the tender touch, before he’s hooking them into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down. “But we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to fuck that needy pussy of yours.”

It took quite a bit of wriggling and Aaron hitting his head against the roof of the car to get your shorts and panties off of you, and you’re about to joke that this was an exercise in of itself, until Aaron is settling back between your legs with his own legs crammed underneath him. You suddenly realize Aaron is still wearing all of his clothes, polo wrinkled and pants hanging loosely at his hips, while you’re completely naked and vulnerable, desperate and needy like he said.

His fingers dance across the soft expanse of your thighs until he presses a finger against you, so close to where you need him. You breathe unsteadily and have to close your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, when Aaron gently grazes between your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Is this all for me?”

You nod rapidly and push your hips down in an effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up.

Aaron tuts at you. “What did I say about using your words?” And then he’s forgoing your clit completely and pressing a thick finger inside.

You gasp, eyes shooting open and meeting his from where he’s watching your face so intently it would’ve been intimidating if you didn’t feel white-hot pleasure take over your body. “Yes, I’m wet, just for you,” you rush out.

He hums, satisfied. “Just for me, right?” He begins thrusting his finger inside of you, and the feeling of being filled and something finally happening has you arching your back against him again, soft whines escaping your mouth before you can help it. The lewd noises from your sopping pussy rings out in the small space of the car, jarring, but it just makes you feel hotter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, attempting to rut your hips down to meet his thrusts, steadily growing in pace. Your hand shoots down to take ahold of his forearm, nearly distracted at the veins popping out, when you feel a second finger prodding at you. “Please just fuck me already, I’m ready.”

You watch Aaron’s mouth form what has to be a reprimand, scolding you for being so desperate, but then it closes and forms into something softer even as his gaze is fixated on his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. He leans in and kisses you before you realize, just a soft press of his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he’s still wearing a faint smile, and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind an ear. It’s all so painstakingly affectionate, you feel at a loss for words again but for a completely different reason you can’t name.

“How can I say no to you?” he mutters, almost to himself, and it shocks you to your core.

He doesn’t wait for a response and pulls out a condom from his back pocket. You watch as he’s about to tear the foil packet open, thoughts turning over and over in your head, before you exclaim “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He pauses and stares at you, serious based off the pinch of his brows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”

“I’m sure,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck so you can run your fingers through his hair. And you are absolutely sure, confident, because you know the cherry on top of this whole experience would be feeling his cock spill in your pussy and filling you up. “I want to feel you.”

You watch as he groans, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against yours, staring at the flutter of his long eyelashes. “You are killing me, sweetheart.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I can say the same for you.”

Because if you thought Aaron looked good wearing a suit in those blurry pictures on Facebook, it doesn’t even compare to how he looks now. His polo tightly stretched over his shoulders, slightly disheveled from where you were grabbing onto him, belt unbuckled and pants hanging deliciously half-open from his hips, and hair tousled, the gel maintaining his professional appearance giving way to make him look younger. He’s so unbelievably hot you almost believe you’re dreaming.

You watch as he pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to where his cock pops out, the head a sympathetic dark red from where he must’ve been achingly hard this entire time. Before you make another attempt to have him in your mouth, he’s pushing in, stretching you deliciously open and making you grip harder at the hair at his nape.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me,” Aaron grunts, his hands flying to grasp onto your hips.  

Although you can feel him sink into you, inch by inch, you’re mesmerized by the sharp focus on his face, the pinch in his brow and eyes clenched shut. As if he’s trying not to throw away all abandon and pound into you, and the thought is so intoxicating it makes your head spin.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. He bottoms out, his cock finally pushed all way in your pussy, and he’s much bigger, thicker, than you realized. It feels so, so good—being filled up with his hard cock, his hips pressing against your thighs as they splay out the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past week.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, gentle again, and before you could answer, he’s pulling back and thrusting back into you.

A gasp wretches out of you and your hands scramble at his back, pulling him down because you need him to be closer, need his large body pushing down on you and making you take him.

He lets you, giving you a mockingly sympathetic look, and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your jawline. He starts a steady rhythm then—thrusting in and out of you and knocking the breath out of you. “You’re going to take my fat cock, baby? I know you’ve been begging for it all week; you need it so bad, don’t you?”

Jesus Christ.

Words escape you again, instead, your mouth hangs open as you attempt to nod in response. Even though the car’s AC was blasting, you were covered in sweat and sliding up the seats with every thrust of Aaron’s hips. You definitely weren’t complaining, probably wouldn’t even be able to because sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making kept coming out of you, eyes nearly permanently rolled back in your head. It felt so good, you didn’t think fucking could ever feel this good, but Aaron continues to exceed expectations.

You hitch your legs up his hips higher and let out a high-pitched whine at the change in angle, hot pleasure zinging up your spine. Aaron grunts, something dark and masculine that makes you preen, and his hips start snapping harder, faster.

“Look at you,” he murmurs lowly right into your ear. “Being fucked so good you can’t even speak.”

He shifts again, hands hooking underneath your thighs and, with your nod, presses your knees to your chest until they’re next to your ears, legs dangling over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around your thighs, holding them in place, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head when Aaron’s cock slides even deeper into your cunt with a wet sound. He feels heavenly, even despite not having touched your clit at all.

He fucks you relentlessly and you think your brain has melted out of your ears because you just take it. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the litany of groans and praises that fall from his lips, and your nonstop whimpering gasps is heady. You don’t even care if you can’t come just from him rutting into you alone, it feels too fucking good.

He sits back up, not once breaking his brutal pace, and makes unwaveringly intense eye contact with you. “My beautiful girl takes my cock so well, making such pretty noises. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my come.”

You really did not expect Aaron to have the dirty mouth he does, but again, you’re not complaining. Instead, you bring one of your arms down to snake between your thighs where you’re absolutely soaked in your combined wetness and sweat to circle your clit. The added stimulation, finally, has your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching around him. You squirm a bit, because his belt buckle has started to dig into you from where his pants are pooling around his knees, but you’re suddenly so close.

“Fuck, Aaron…”

He licks his lips at that, starts to fuck into you faster somehow. He knocks your hand aside to replace with his own and you absolutely mewl when you feel the rough callous of his thumb gently circling your clit, impossibly slow. “Is my good girl going to come? You’re going to come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can barely detect the strain in Aaron’s voice, like he’s close too. “Yes, yes, please,” you stutter, feeling your gut tighten and sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. “Harder.”

Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he’s rubbing your clit mercilessly, almost too rough if your nerves weren’t already so close to snapping. You let out a string of strangled whines, your hands coming up to hold onto Aaron’s free arm for dear life. You’re so wet that his fingers just glide over you, the wet noises of him fucking into you getting you hotter, making the coil in your stomach wind tighter, but it’s still not enough.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Aaron lifts his right hand from where he was definitely leaving bruises on your hip to place at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen but you don’t stop him because the feeling sends your mind spinning, realizing that you have placed so much trust in this man and he’s thoughtful enough to care for you, treasure you, and fuck you so hard he’s definitely ruined you for anyone else.

His eyes are impossibly dark, hair falling into his face, and you meet his gaze unblinkingly as he puts light pressure on your throat. “Come for me.”

You don’t know if it’s the hand on your neck, his cock frantically fucking into you, or the soft baritone of his voice that has you pushing over the edge. You come with a choked gasp of his name, hips and thighs shaking almost uncontrollably. You swear your vision whites out because you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your fucking life.

You distantly hear Aaron grunt your name, feel him fuck into you desperately and erratically. He lets go of your throat, you secretly already miss the weight of his hand, and he clutches at your hips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to stutter, coming into you with a guttural moan that sends a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips into you, like he’s making sure he’s giving you every last drop he has, and the thought has you whimpering.

You stay like that as both of you catch your breath. Your thighs and hips are starting to ache uncomfortably, pussy sore in a way where you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but you watch the way Aaron runs his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes so he can lean in to kiss you, and it’s all worth it.

He pulls out slowly, dick twitching half-way inside of you when you moan at the empty feeling. You feel his come instantly start to drip out of you and onto the seats, and the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes has you squirming, heat licking up your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to open the console and hopefully rummage around for a hidden towel. You hope he doesn’t pull out old and scratchy fast-food napkins like the ones you have crammed in your glove compartment.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly dropping your legs down to dangle a bit more comfortably. “More than okay.”

He comes back with a pouch of wet wipes, slightly used, and you’re surprised at the sudden twinge of jealousy you feel when you imagine why he has wet wipes ready in his car and how many other women he’s fucked in his expensive car.

He’s thorough in cleaning you up, chest rapidly rising and falling as he continues to catch his breath. As if he can read your mind, he looks up at you curiously with no trace of the stern persona he had when he was fucking you mindlessly. You had thought you hid your jealousy well, however you find yourself glaring at the wipes in his hand.

He gives you an achingly sweet smile, a surprise dimple making an appearance, and leans over you where you’re still sweating all over his backseat. “Every parent has wet wipes in their car.”

You feel your cheeks heat at being caught, that he somehow knew you were drowning in the sudden onslaught of jealousy clawing up your chest. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He throws the used wipes on the floor to pick up later, and then he’s wrestling around with you until you’re somehow laying on top of him across the seats, both of your legs bunched up and tangled together.

You’re sticky and sweaty, and Aaron has nearly sweated through his polo, causing it to cling to his chest in a way that has you wanting to put your hands all over him. So, you do, running your palms up and down him so intently that it gets a chuckle out of him.

“All of your clothes are still on.”

“Well, I was a little busy.” Oh, he’s a little cheeky after sex.

Both of you are laying in comfortable silence as you still catch your breaths, Aaron moreso than you, when his phone goes off where it hasn’t moved from the phone mount. The bright light causes you to squint, and you turn to press your face into Aaron’s chest with a whine. “Don’t pick up.”

“Alright, alright,” Aaron says despite him making no moves anyway to get up. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the caller ID and you can feel his body stiffen. “It’s your dad.”

And just like that, a bucket of cold water is splashed over you. You just had sex with your dad’s best friend in his expensive Range Rover in some sketchy rest stop.

You must have froze as well because then Aaron is running a hand up and down your back, making you shiver. He’s trying to comfort you, you know that, but honestly your thoughts immediately melt into other things that rely on his hands on you. Like pushing your head down between his legs. Maybe he’s right and you really are insatiable.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

-

The car ride the rest of the way to the hotel is mostly silent between you two, the only noises being the wind deafening you and your hair slapping into your face since he rolled the windows down.

To air out the stench of sex in the car, you remember.

You would almost think Aaron was mad, the way he didn’t try to make conversation with you, and you knew that you would be spiraling if it wasn’t for the fact that he held your hand in his lap the entire time.  

You probably wouldn’t be much for conversation anyway—you’re already trying not to let your mind race about what you were going to do.

You’re only here for a couple of weeks, you go to school across the country, and technically, this was only supposed to be a summer fling. You don’t technically need to tell your dad about what happened.

You turn to look at Aaron, unabashedly. His hair is still tussled, thanks to your fingers, and there’s sweat beading along his forehead from the summer humidity. You stare at the sharp slope of his nose, the way the lights from the highway reflect in his dark eyes, and you’re suddenly wracked with the feeling of not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes your hand when he notices you staring for too long. He turns to you, most likely seeing the desperation on your face. He misinterprets it, thinking you’re running over what you’re going to tell your father over and over in your head. He has no idea that you want to keep seeing him, that you want to make this work somehow, whatever is between you two.

“We’ll figure it out.”

When you notice his gentle smile, the methodical way he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, you believe him.

[uravitypng]

bird creature/hybrid keigo takami x chubby reader

KINKTOBER: breeding (+praise)

word count: 3.0k words / mdni ! 18+ / this turned into a full on fic and is pretty fluffy tbh <3 it has more plot than porn sdfgjhbmfbxfvcbsxn and i haven't read it through properly but ssshhhh

being kicked out of your party sucks, 'you don't fill the roll of beast tamer' or something, they've found someone more skilled and experienced so now you're stuck alone in the middle of a forest after accepting a quest which you currently regret taking.

it should be a simple herb collection quest but it's being more of a hassle than it's worth, you shred off the top layers of your clothes and tie it around your waist, dropping your sheep hide bag and gulping down some of your water. after a while you stumble across a clearing with a lake and it looks like you'll finally be able to have room to properly set up your tent.

you don't realise but you're being watched. golden brown eyes piercing down at you, watching you with hawk-eyed vision on high alert to his surroundings. you met him the following morning, as you were leaving your tent something suddenly blocked out the sunlight before landing next to you. a bird creature was in front of you or maybe he was a hybrid, you weren't sure but he was rather intimidating. this man has bright red feather wings with a huge wing span and sandy blonde and white small fluffy parts on his arms and chest covered with a brown flimsy tunic with a handsome human face with golden eyes and blonde windswept hair. you're already quite fearful but after you spot his talons that look like they could slice you in half you really start panicking.

you were able to calm down when he smiled and held out his hand, you flinched first but in his palms where berries. you know those berries, they were edible, very rare and very tasty. later you found out his name was keigo but everyone call him hawks, when he told you this he also told you that he wanted you to call him keigo. he has limited human speech and it was hard to communicate with each other but you both tried your best.

you don't know this but when you accepted the berries he gave you in his mind that made you his mate, it solidified it in his mind and he was very happy that you accepted his advances. he's your provider and he has to look after you. you don't know that he thinks like that though.

you should of left the forest weeks ago, there was no reason for you to stay... well apart from keigo. you knew he would stay in the forest it's his home, you couldn't ask him to go with you and why would he? 'i probably care about him a lot more than he does me, which is fine! he likely has plenty of friends and his own kind in the forest, i just miss company after what happened with my old party... i like his company.' you can't bring yourself to leave, not yet, even if that means you're getting close to the rainy season, and it's always dangerous to be out in the wild in the rainy season. it's so easy to wind up dead, your body never found either downstream or at the bottom of cliffs that people can't access.

"shit!" you were foresting for some berries when you felt a drop of rain fall on your head, that drop turned into ten, then twenty, then fifty, all in a matter of seconds. you nearly fell as you tried to turn back to the somewhat safer option of your tent but the ground below you quickly became mud and slippy causing you to trip, luckily you were able to catch yourself on a nearby tree before falling face first and getting back as fast but safely as you can.

you're soaked to the bone and as the tent finally meets your eyeline it's getting you to walk quicker. you hear something above and you look up the best you can, covering your eyes with your hand but still somehow some water gets in your eyes, looking above you see hawks flying to you. "keigo, what are you doing?! go home, get in the tent, get anywhere. i know it might be different for you, i know you're less fragile than me but it's still raining heavily. what if there's lightning!" you shout at him to the sky.

keigo lands down, water slashing you in the process and getting mud on your trousers. he's careful as he pulls you towards him, making sure his talons won't hurt you and you're pressed against his body, "come." you're confused and you try to move so you can reach your tent but as you look behind you your back straightens as you see your tent. you don't even know if you could call it a tent anymore. the wind has blown it so much that it's just broken cut up fabric tied down by one singular peg, the others already blown away. "come," he repeats himself and pulls you closer towards his warm body before flying away, you can't help but scream as you lift up off the ground and you swear over the rain you can hear keigo laugh. you always wondered what it would be like if he took you up in his wings to fly, you've always thought they were so majestic but you never envisioned it going like this.

it's hard to hear and talk over the heavy patter of the rain but you try anyway. "keigo where are we going?"

"home," he replies and you hear him loud and clear, you don't know if that's because he's louder than the rain or leaning close to you or if you hear it loud and clear because your heart is just beating out of your chest at the answer.

it seemed like a long while of flying but when you finally reached the floor keigo carefully landed and put you down. looking around to where you are you see that you're outside a cave but you don't know that you can call it a cave anymore. at a quick glance from the outside it looks like it was originally a cave but the opening is covered by rocks, wood and other building materials, keeping the inside warm and dry. there's a wooden door to the side and you think you can see a lock on it. the outside reminded you a lot of your childhood home but you can't pinpoint why. "come," he grabs your wrist cautiously with his talons and leads you inside.

a blast of heat hits you when you enter and you immediately warm up, even if it's just a little bit through your wet clothes. it looks pretty barren apart from some small trinkets along the wall and the bed is covered in blankets and other fluffy comfortable things, definitely more comfortable than anything you've been sleeping recently. you stay where you are not moving from the door, not wanting to get everything wet. keigo leaves but comes back a minute or so after with a towel for you and second one in his hand for him.

"thank you," you say quietly and shyly taking the towel from him. after doing your best to dry your hair and dry the rest of your clothes keigo leans down to your neck and nuzzles you while cooing, heat quickly rises to your cheeks and he pulls back and takes you further into his home before dropping your hand and he goes back into one of his back rooms.

you miss his hand in yours but when he returns he's holding a shirt, "for you."

"me?" you point to yourself and he nods. "i don't know if it will fit, i might be a bit small." you tell him but he looks back at you with an easygoing smile that puts you at ease. you know it probably won't fit right, you're not exactly small but you don't have much choice with how wet your clothes are. "thank you," you return his smile. you feel small under his gaze as he looks at you, it seems like he has no plan to leave you alone to get changed or look away. "um, okay, i'll-" you turn away from him and lift up your top. when you take it off and start to fold it keigo holds you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, his wings softly fluttering. you get flustered and wonder what you should do, this isn't normal human behaviour but keigo isn't human maybe this is completely normal for him, although he's never done this before, but maybe he knows how cold you are.

"k-keigo i need to put this on, i'll get cold." he's slow as he takes his hands off you, making you shiver in the process. you quickly get changed pulling on the top that you've been given and pulling down your trousers. you were right about how it doesn't fit you but at least you're dry. the top is thin and covers up to your mid-thigh, the fabric tight along your waist, stomach and breasts but it's still comfortable. you turn round to look at him and twiddle with your thumbs, he smiles at you again and rubs his face against yours, making your cheeks heat up.

"drink?"

"huh?" you ask slightly distracted by how intimate this is.

"drink? keep you warm." he gestures to you and then gestures to another room. you nod your head, not knowing what drink you're saying yes to but happy to be warm and experience what drinks keigo likes and drinks, it might just be tea you'll have to wait and see.

you feel a bit uncomfortable just standing around and you don't notice any chairs so you perch yourself on the bed, hoping keigo won't mind. when keigo comes back he's wearing different clothes and he's holding two mugs, you smile at him and you notice he doesn't smile back. 'did i do something wrong? he's not smiling. maybe i was wrong about him not minding about me sitting down on the bed, i should of just stayed standing up.' keigo is holding onto the mugs so tightly that his hands are turning white. "i'm really sorry keigo, i didn't mean to make you angry," you rush out as quick as you can, hurrying to get up but as you start lifting off the bed two feathers rapidly leave keigo's wings and pins you down to the bed by the top you're wearing. you've never seen him do that before so part of you is thinking about how impressive it is, the other part of you worried and confused hoping he'll forgive you for whatever accidental mistake you made.

keigo places the cups down on the side. "i'm sor-" before you can finish your sentence, he moves on top of you, making your eyes widen, at that moment you see his eyes, heavily dilated looking down at you tenderly but hungrily.

"do you like?" he asks stroking your chubby cheeks.

"like?" you ask confused.

"nest." he kisses your nose.

you're not one hundred percent sure what you're saying yes to but you think he's talking about what you're laying on and you do like it, it's warm and cosy and you could stay here for ever. "i like it very much. i could stay here forever."

keigo trills when he hears you say that, "did a good job?"

you never thought keigo would be one for seeking approval but you suppose everyone does. "amazing job." you nod your head and lift your hands up to his wings and run your hands through them making him shiver. after all that's happened you're still surprised as he gently bites your lip, a silent request for you to open your mouth and you grant him access, parting your lips, keigo taking the lead controlling the movement as your tongues intertwine and you kiss. you have no idea how much time goes by, so caught up in the moment, it could of been three minutes or thirty for all you know, all you know is how good everything feels.

as you move apart you open up your eyes to see him smirking at you, your cheeks are hot. he kisses the corner of your mouth and squeezes your plush thighs before gently trailing his knuckle up and down your inner thigh, slowly inching up your, his, top. keigo brings both his hands to your outer thighs and slivers up the rest of the top until he sees your hips, eyes practically glowing as he nuzzles your neck again.

at some point while all of this was happening he started rubbing his hard dick along your thigh, getting precum everywhere, you had no idea when was able to take off his clothes.

this time he uses his talons as he rips up your underwear leaving you bare and maybe you should be scared of how close his talons were to you but you weren't. he uses his knuckles again and brushes along your opening, he thrills when he feels how wet you are and before you even realise it he's slowly pushing himself into you. he sees you wince and kisses all along your neck and pauses for a second, then continues just as slow as he was before not wanting to hurt you. when he's fully in he waits and kisses you all over, touching all over your body, your hips and stomach especially, groping and squeezing. keigo feels you start relaxing around him and starts moving, slow thrusts in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you.

keigo's thrusts start to speed up uncontrollable as he kept feeling you clench around him and how wet you are, almost feral, animalistic. a white creamy ring forms at the bottom of his dick and he becomes more and more feral. you moan loudly and bury your head into the soft blankets and materials. "feel so good!" you cry out mumbled against the pillows. you ball your fists up into the covers, holding onto them tight and keigo goes harder.

"you feel good too. i'll keep making you feel good," he leans down to your ear and kisses your cheek. you nod your head even though it wasn't a question and keigo's eyes dilate even more than they have been. he touches you very gently, circling against your clit and kisses your pulse point, delicately sucking a mark on your neck. his pace stays the same, still fast. your back arches and you feel the coil in your stomach winding up more and more, so close to snapping. you whine as the coil in you snaps and you cum, body tight in an arch before shaking.

keigo smirks as he watches your body fall and go limp. he picks up your legs and folds you in half, gripping hold of your thighs tightly and his pace increases so fast that it leaves you breathless, your body bounces and he watches you ravenously. "gonna give you my seed, gonna make you a pretty mummy." keigo chokes a groan and holds onto you tighter. you should be trying to move away and tell him no but you don't, instead you clench tighter around him and nod your head rapidly in desire, you've never wanted something so badly. warm ropes of cum spills into you filling you up. keigo smirks and peppers your face with kisses.

"keigo have you seen how messy tsunagu's clothes are! it's a nightmare washing them all the time!" you complain scowling as you pick up your youngest sons shirt.

keigo chuckles and comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing you behind you ear, "he's such a troublemaker." you shiver as you feel his breath against your skin and his voice so close to you, he smirks.

it's been five years since you first stepped foot in your home, it's been five years since you and keigo first had sex. in those five years a lot has changed, your relationship included. you and keigo have no problem communicating anymore, both now speaking the same language with keigo learning how to write and read everything too. you have two boys together and they're wonderful. you got married and it was one of the happiest days of your life. you've practically abandoned human civilisation, by your own choice. occasionally you'll go into town if you need something but you stay in the forest most of the time. you've met keigo's friend and they all call him hawks, even the ones he's known since children. you asked him why he told you to call him keigo when you first met especially since everyone calls him hawks and he told you it's because he knew as soon as he met you that you were his mate and you would spend the rest of your life together.

"i know a way to calm him down." you hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

you play along, "oh?"

"i think he needs to be a big brother." he pulls you closer to him and rubs your soft stomach.

grinning wide, "really?"

keigo hums and kisses your neck. "yeah birdie, a little one he can help and look after will keep him out of trouble." he nuzzles against you and plays with your stomach. he turns you around to look at him, holding onto your hands and smirking. nonchalantly asking, "what are we aiming for this time? a girl or another boy?" he taps his finger to his chin, "i'm thinking girl."

"i'm thinking a girl too," you smile fondly and kiss his nose. keigo's wings flutter out when you kiss him and you giggle.

"i'll lock the door."

[lovers-rck]

modern au where you accidentally send ellie, your bestfriend, a nude PT4

pt1 here , pt2 here , pt3 here

n/a hello y'all!!! first of all, thank you for all the support in this little series <3 i can't believe all the love that is receiving

this is an additional chapter, it's not necessary to read it if you don't want to because is all smut and it's not essential to the plot, but its made for those who enjoy read this kind of content so... enjoy!!

☆

ellie's kisses ignite your skin, wet and noisy they plant themselves on your sweaty skin thanks to the summer heat. her touch is hungry and shy at the same time, trying to engrave every part of you in her fingertips.

she can't believe what's happening. in her mind a battle rages where her thoughts fly by and don't stop. she's touching you, she's kissing you, is this real?

the fantasy she's been imagining before going to sleep for the last few months becomes reality the moment your mouth provokes a choked moan from her lips.

"ellie" you moan between kisses, a trickle of saliva connecting them each time he pulls away.

"what?" ellie murmurs in the same tone as you, her voice choked "tell me what you want."

instead of telling her what you want, you show her, and when ellie watches as you untie your bikini straps and bare your breasts ellie has to keep her mouth shut to keep from drooling. she quickly understands, and her tongue plays around your nipple, eliciting slight moans from you.

ellie massages and sucks on your breasts with a skill you never knew she possessed, and when you watch her in action, you have the urge to moan and let everyone hear how good she makes you feel, even with just one touch.

"they're better than in the picture" ellie murmurs against your skin, and you can't help but laugh. silly as always, you think.

"you idiot" she smiles and moves down to your stomach, marking a path of kisses.

"i'm just telling the truth"

you pull her hair in playful response, but when ellie lets out a choked moan you feel a warmth invade your body. your fingers play with the collar of her t-shirt, and ellie pulls it off, she has a sporty top that does wonders for your eyes.

she kisses your stomach, shamelessly sucking on your skin and leaving a trail of saliva all over you, so obscene that you feel sick for enjoying it.

"i didn't know..." you say, between moans "i didn't know this side of you."

you can hear ellie laugh as she throws off your shorts, tossing them on the floor "well, you never let me show you"

you knew what ellie's personality was like, playful, obscene and even provocative at many times, so you had an idea of what she would be like in intimacy (not that you ever imagined it...) but you were still surprised at the determination she had for her actions, how she knew where and how to touch to elicit sounds from your mouth.

her hands kneaded the soft skin of your thighs, admiring how her fingers dug into your flesh. with a sudden movement, ellie pulled you to the edge of the bed causing a giggle from you which she also joined in. "silly. i'm trying to eat you out and you're laughing."

that caused you to laugh even harder, pushing ellie's head away from your cunt with your hand – you couldn't stop laughing.

ellie bit your finger and took advantage of your complaint to grab your wrist and press it against the mattress, leaving you immobilized.

"cannibal" you said, inwardly enjoying ellie's control.

she only murmured a small "mhm", planting kisses on your inner thighs, gently biting and kissing the skin abused by her mouth. the laughter passed quickly, your hips moving towards ellie's mouth impatiently, eager for her touch.

"ellie" you murmured between moans "don't tease"

ellie left your thighs and moved back up to meet your face.

"tell me what you want" she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke "tell me what you want from me and i'll do it."

ellie could be provocative. she knew how to treat you, and over so many years of friendship she had learned to codify your personality; whiny and too proud for your own good, and of course she was going to take advantage of that once she had you the way she wanted you.

"don't do that" you murmured, looking into her eyes. she noticed how they were crystallized.

"don't be shy" she replied, leaving kisses all over your cheekbones and jaw "it's me, ellie. your best friend" she said and a playful smile planted itself on her face.

ellie really didn't need your order - she knew she could go on with her mission without you telling her, but something inside her wanted, no, needed, to hear what you wanted, almost as a confirmation that this wasn't a fever dream of hers, one where she was hallucinating.

"come on" ellie continued, one of her hands playing with the elastic of your underwear "i want to hear you"

the sensations are too much for you, so you surrender "touch me, please" you say, feeling your face flush with embarrassment "i need you"

ellie may be provocative, but she's not cruel – so as soon as she hears you, she returns to her kneeling position in front of you, grabbing your thighs and positioning them on her shoulders "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

you can't help but let out a moan as soon as you feel her fingers move your panties to the side and her tongue make contact with your intimacy. ellie's fingers sink into your flesh and hold you open before her.

the only thing that comes out of your mouth are stifled moans and groans, her movements not letting you have a breath. your hips chase her mouth and her tongue accompanies the movement - you grab her hair causing her to moan in your clit.

her mouth works wonders against your cunt. it doesn't take long before a knot in your stomach builds, creating so much pressure that you feel like you're going to explode at any moment - and you do, as you feel your climax.

ellie quickly notices thanks to the movement of your body and your moans, abandoning her actions and devoting herself to planting kisses on your thighs, caressing and helping you catch your breath.

"k know" she says, watching as your eyes are closed and your body suffer from little spasms "i'm here" you feel her hand grab your hand and caress it.

"do you want some water?" you hear ellie ask after a few seconds, lying down next to you.

you deny and grimace as you feel your wet panties "im okay, thanks" ellie nods and smiles at you. you can see her lips glistening from your juices and it's so obscene you swear you can finish again at such sight. "you have a little bit of me in your mouth" you murmur, your thumb stroking ellie's bottom lip.

"your fault" ellie answers you, lightly biting your fingertip. you let out a giggle.

the air feels heavy. the sun streaming through the window hits your almost naked body and ellie can't help but admire it once again.

"u little perv" you say as you see where her gaze was directed.

ellie rolls her eyes and reaches up to plant a small kiss on your lips "can't help it".

[chaotic-birds]

be with you || j.pt

Jason wakes up in the middle of the night and you're not there.

🌙 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (gn)

🌙 Genres/AUs: Fluff, (emotional) hurt/comfort, established relationship

🌙 Warning(s): mention of kidnapping

🌙 Word Count: 1.1k

🌙 Author's Note: I have so many Jason Todd fic ideas 😵‍💫 For now, I decided to just write this. I normally don't post such short fics, but I want to get used to doing so. Sometimes I just wanna write without thinking of intensive plots 😪 That being said, please enjoy this little fluff piece! Sometimes, we just need some fluff in our lives. Also, this is my first Jason fic after a few years so… 😬 (im a lil nervous)

masterlist

When Jason turns to his other side to pull you against him, his eyes fly open.

Your side of the bed is empty.

And cold.

Which means it’s been a while since you left.

You left.

Did you leave or did someone take you?

Jason’s distressed eyes scan the bedroom. There’s no sign of a struggle. Plus, he would at least hope he’d wake up to the commotion if something like that happened.

But if you didn’t get kidnapped, where did you go?

Worry fills his chest and his heart pumps faster at the influx of questions in his head.

All the doubt about whether he’s making you happy clouds his mind. Had he said something yesterday that had upset you? Are you not happy with him anymore? Did someone better come into your life?

Jason groans and rakes his hands through his hair, tugging roughly at the ends to feel something other than uneasiness.

His hands fall to his sides when he sees your belongings at your vanity.

That’s a good sign, right? Maybe you didn’t leave him after all.

Jason slides off the bed and heads out of the bedroom.

“Babe?” he calls.

There’s no answer.

He wanders to the bathroom. Empty.

He goes to the living room. Empty.

Finally, he goes to your home office.

You’re sat in your chair with your headset on, fingers clacking against the keyboard.

The heavyweight he had put on his shoulders instantly lifted. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He takes three large steps before he encloses his arms around you from behind.

You yelp, jumping and hitting your head against his jaw.

He grunts at having bit the inside of his cheek in the process.

Although your arms are glued to your sides, you tilt your head and lift a hand as high as it can go to remove your headset.

“Jay?” you question. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

He shakes his head and nuzzles his face against your neck more.

You lax in his arms, rubbing along his forearms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you awake then?” you wonder after a while.

“You weren’t in bed,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I forgot I had to finish something for work.”

“But it’s half past three. Can’t it wait?”

“Sadly, no,” you sigh.

Carefully, you try to pull apart his arms to free yourself. Jason refuses to let you do so.

“Baby,” you laugh softly when he holds you tighter. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No,” he grumbles.

Knowing he won’t give up, at least not easily, you nod. “Alright then. Should I bring in another chair for you?”

Jason shakes his head and finally lets go. He slides your chair back slightly and sinks to the floor in front of you.

Your legs part when he makes a home between them, wrapping his arms around your hips and resting his head on top of your thigh.

“Comfy?” you ask with a small smile, slightly amused.

He simply hums and closes his eyes.

Your gaze lingers on him before you focus on your work once more. You hurry more now, wanting to get back to bed with Jason.

A few minutes have passed when Jason speaks again.

“I-I thought you left me,” he whispers.

Your hands pause in their movement.

“Oh Jace,” you begin gently and place a hand against his cheek.

His eyes flutter open at your touch. His blue eyes are filled with worry and fear.

“I would never leave you.”

His eyes move between yours, trying to find a reason not to believe you. There’s that rotten side of him that tells him he doesn’t deserve to have company. That it’s inevitable for him to be alone.

“Unless you want me to,” you add.

He shakes his head aggressively. “Don’t say that.”

You smile softly at him. “Then it’s a done deal. You’re mine until the end of time.”

Jason cracks a small smile at your words, lifting his head.

“I like the sound of that,” he says.

Your grin grows. “I do too.”

Jason leans up, and you meet him halfway for a tender kiss.

“I’ve still got more to do. You want to go to bed now?” you ask once you pull away.

“Nope, I’m staying,” he replies, resting his head back on your leg.

His tone sounds lighter now, making your heart warm. Although you love all sides of Jason, this may be your favorite one.

Happy. Soft. Vulnerable.

After forty more minutes, you finally finish.

Jason has fallen asleep and has filled the room with his light snores. Some of his hair lays on his face, some of it slightly ruffled from sleeping in the bed earlier.

Cute.

You bring a hand to his hair, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You scratch at his scalp gently to wake him.

His eyes open, drooping and groggily.

“I’m done, let’s go to bed now,” you say.

He nods and slowly stands up from the floor. He sways a little on tired legs.

“Come on, sleepy head,” you tease lightly and grab his hand.

He lets you guide him back to the bedroom. You sit him down on the edge then gesture in the direction of the bathroom.

“I need to pee; you gonna come with me or will you stay here?” you question.

Jason frowns but nods. “If you take longer than five minutes, I’m coming in.”

You laugh and kiss the crown of his head. “If you say so.”

You know he’s being honest so you rush. Luckily, you make it in time for him not to come get you.

Jason hasn’t moved from when you left. He’s staring at the doorway, feet thumping rhythmically against the floor.

“You’re so needy tonight,” you observe and climb into bed. Jason scoots back until he’s beside you.

“I just miss you,” he sighs, pulling you against him like he originally wanted to do.

You lean back against his chest to feel him more.

“I’ve missed you too, Jay,” you reply.

There's been a rise in crime lately, which resulted in Jason being out in the field more than usual. However, it feels as if there’s a break and you and Jason are making the most of it. You’re sure he will be summoned again soon.

Jason snuggles your body more—if possible—and kisses the back of your head.

“We’re so sleeping in today,” he mumbles, a slight groan accompanying his words.

You giggle. “I can’t protest that.”

“Hm, good,” he says. “Goodnight, baby.”

Smiling, you echo, “Goodnight, Jay.”

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[novaursa]

Legacy (but you will fly)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Some events and timeline don't match canon plot.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: under lion's gaze

- Next part: winter is coming

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi

The wind howled through the craggy cliffs of Casterly Rock as you stood before the gaping maw of the old mine entrance, its shadow swallowing the light. The air around you was heavy, carrying with it the scent of damp stone and something older—something ancient, as if the earth itself had secrets waiting to be uncovered. Behind you, a group of Tywin’s guards stood at attention, their hands resting on their sword hilts, their expressions tense.

Tywin himself stood a few paces back, his face carved from stone. His green eyes, sharp as flint, were fixed on you as though willing you to change your mind. The wind tugged at the crimson Lannister cloak draped over his shoulders, the only movement in his otherwise immovable stance.

“You’re certain about this?” Tywin’s voice was low, measured, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “I have to do this, Tywin. He’s waiting for me.”

“And what if he’s not?” Tywin shot back, his tone clipped. “You’re walking into a cavern that hasn’t been stable in years, and after that, you’re putting yourself at the mercy of a dragon.”

“He came here for me,” you replied calmly, though your heart beat like a drum in your chest. “If there’s anyone he’ll listen to, it’s me.”

Tywin took a step forward, his gaze narrowing. “I will not stand here while you disappear into the dark and risk yourself for—”

“For what, Tywin?” you interrupted, turning fully to face him. Your voice was steady, though there was a fire in it now. “This is something I was born to do. You’ve always valued pragmatism over pride. Well, now I ask you to trust me and let me do what must be done.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as he studied you. You could see the internal war on his face—the struggle between his need to control every piece on the board and the realization that, this time, he couldn’t.

“You will not go alone,” he finally said, his tone hard as iron.

You shook your head resolutely. “No. You and your men will stay here. If you come after me, you’ll only provoke him. Viserion will sense your intentions, and that will endanger us all.”

Tywin’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re asking me to stand idle while you disappear into that pit.”

“I’m asking you to trust me,” you said, softer this time, stepping closer to him. “This is something only I can do. The dragon is part of me, Tywin—just as this place is part of you. You taught me to value reason, and reason tells me that this connection cannot be ignored.”

Tywin exhaled sharply, his gaze intense as it bored into yours. Finally, after a long silence, he gave a small nod. “If you do not return in one hour, I will send men after you.”

“Agreed,” you said, though you had no intention of needing rescue.

The silence lingered between you for a moment longer, but then Tywin’s hand lifted, his gloved fingers brushing your arm—a rare, silent gesture of his concern. “Be careful,” he said, his voice softer than you expected.

You offered him a faint smile, your fingers briefly grazing over his hand. “I will.”

Turning back toward the mine, you steeled yourself as the shadows yawned before you. The guards muttered among themselves, exchanging uneasy glances as they watched you cross the threshold. The sound of your boots against the stone echoed hollowly as you descended into the darkness.

With each step, the light from the entrance dimmed further, replaced by a deep, oppressive silence. You pressed forward, your hand grazing along the cold, rough walls of the mine. Faint echoes of dripping water reached your ears, the sound almost rhythmic in the stillness.

The further you went, the stronger the feeling became—an energy humming in the air, ancient and alive. It was as if the earth itself whispered to you, beckoning you closer. The temperature shifted as you ventured deeper, the air growing warmer, the scent of smoke faint but unmistakable.

“Viserion,” you whispered into the dark, the sound of his name swallowed by the vastness of the cavern.

A low, rumbling growl reverberated through the mine, the walls seeming to vibrate with the force of it. Your breath caught in your throat, but you forced yourself to press on. A faint glow appeared ahead, flickering and dancing like firelight. You rounded a corner, and there he was.

Viserion.

The dragon lay curled in a vast chamber at the heart of the mine, his cream-and-gold scales reflecting in the dark. His massive wings were folded against his sides, and his golden eyes snapped open the moment you entered. The glow of molten fire flickered deep within them as he lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he caught your scent.

“Viserion,” you said again, your voice calm and soothing despite the thunderous pounding of your heart. “It’s me.”

The dragon let out a low rumble, the sound vibrating through your chest as he uncurled, his massive form rising. The light of his scales lit the chamber, and as he stepped closer, his hot breath washed over you.

You raised your hands slowly, palms open, just as you had done the first time. “I know you came here for me,” you whispered. “I’m here now.”

Viserion’s head dipped low, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, it felt as though the world fell away—there was only you and the dragon, your breaths mingling as you stood together in the heart of the earth.

Slowly, tentatively, you reached out your hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the rough texture of his snout. Viserion stilled, the fire in his eyes dimming to something softer, something familiar.

“I understand now,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of his breathing. “You were leading me here. To what? To why?”

Viserion let out a soft growl, pressing his snout more firmly into your touch. The warmth of his presence filled you with an indescribable calm, as though the dragon itself was reassuring you that this was only the beginning.

The entrance to the mines stood like a dark, gaping maw in the earth, its shadow stretching long across the worn ground. Tywin stood a short distance from it, arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid as a blade. His green eyes, cold and unyielding, remained fixed on the opening, as though his focus alone might summon you back from the depths.

Around him, soldiers shifted uneasily, their hands never straying far from their weapons. Despite the orders to remain calm, the whispers among the men refused to die down. Words like dragon and curse passed from one mouth to another, carried on the wind like a contagion.

Lord Mace Tyrell, never one for silence, paced restlessly nearby, his ornate cloak dragging behind him, dirtied from the long ride. He looked toward the mine entrance with growing unease, as if expecting Viserion’s colossal form to emerge at any moment.

“This is madness, Lord Tywin,” Mace muttered, finally breaking the strained silence. His voice lacked its usual bluster, replaced by a quivering edge of fear. “We sit here like sheep waiting for the wolf. She’s been in there too long.”

Tywin didn’t so much as glance at him. “The hour isn’t yet spent.”

“And what then?” Mace pressed, stepping closer. “If she doesn’t return? What if the beast turns on her—or worse, comes for us?”

Tywin finally turned his head, his gaze sharp as steel. “Then I will deal with it.”

The confidence in his tone silenced Mace for a moment, though the Tyrell lord clearly found little comfort in it. He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak, the sound of hooves pounding against the stone path reached them. All eyes turned to the road leading down from the cliffs as a column of riders emerged, banners bearing the Lannister crimson fluttering in the wind.

At the head of the party rode Kevan Lannister, his armor dulled from travel, his brow furrowed in both concern and confusion. As he drew his horse to a halt, Kevan dismounted and handed his reins to one of his men before striding toward his brother.

“Tywin,” Kevan greeted, his voice steady but guarded as he surveyed the scene before him. His sharp eyes flicked to the mine entrance, then back to his brother. “I rode straight from the Riverlands when word reached me. They’re saying… Well, they’re saying things that are difficult to believe.”

Tywin turned to face him fully, his arms lowering to his sides. “What things?”

Kevan’s gaze swept the gathered soldiers, many of whom avoided his eye. He stepped closer, lowering his voice to keep their conversation private. “Men whispering on the front lines, even in Riverrun—rumors that a dragon lives beneath Casterly Rock.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t waver, though his jaw tightened subtly. “Rumors travel faster than truth.”

“Are they rumors?” Kevan pressed, his voice carrying an edge of disbelief. “Tywin, I need to hear it from you.”

For a long moment, the two brothers stood in silence, the wind tugging at their cloaks and the distant sound of the sea filling the spaces between their words. Finally, Tywin spoke, his voice low but firm. “A dragon has taken refuge here, in the old mines.”

Kevan’s face paled, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second. “Seven hells,” he muttered, running a hand over his beard. “How is this possible? Dragons are gone—dead—nothing more than bones in the crypts of King’s Landing.”

“And yet one remains here,” Tywin replied curtly. “Alive, and very real.”

Kevan glanced toward the mine entrance again, his unease growing. “And Y/N? The men say she—”

“She is in there now,” Tywin interrupted, his voice brooking no argument. “The dragon answers to her.”

Kevan blinked, visibly struggling to process his brother’s words. “This is dangerous, Tywin. Dragons bring ruin wherever they go. You know this better than anyone.”

“I know what dragons are,” Tywin replied coldly. “And I also know that control is possible.”

Kevan scoffed softly, though there was no humor in it. “Control? You think a dragon can be controlled?”

“If anyone can do it,” Tywin said, his voice steady, “she can.”

Kevan studied his brother carefully, searching for cracks in Tywin’s impenetrable armor. “And what of the realm? What will the king say when he learns a dragon now sleeps beneath the Rock?”

“The king will know nothing,” Tywin snapped, his patience fraying. “Not until I deem it necessary.”

Kevan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze flicking to the uneasy soldiers nearby. “You cannot keep this hidden forever. Dragons are not secrets, Tywin. They’re fire and fury. The world will know, sooner or later.”

“And when it does,” Tywin said, his voice like iron, “it will know that the dragon answers to the House of Lannister.”

The words hung in the air, bold and unyielding. Kevan regarded him with a mixture of awe and concern, but before he could respond, a loud, guttural rumble reverberated from deep within the mine. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet, and the guards took an instinctive step back, their hands flying to their swords.

Tywin’s eyes snapped toward the mine entrance, his gaze narrowing. Kevan followed his brother’s line of sight, his voice low and uneasy. “And what happens when the dragon decides it no longer answers to anyone?”

Tywin didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the dark cavern. The soldiers exchanged nervous glances, whispering among themselves, but Tywin’s face remained unreadable.

They waited in silence, the tension stretching as thin as wire. The wind carried the faint sound of something deeper—something alive shifting in the mines, a distant growl that resonated through the earth like thunder.

Tywin stood unmoved, his gaze locked on the shadows before him. If he felt any doubt, he hid it behind the impenetrable mask of a man who had spent his life commanding not only armies but fate itself.

“It won’t come to that,” he said finally, though whether he was speaking to Kevan, the soldiers, or himself, no one could say.

The cavern pulsed with an ancient energy, the air heavy with heat and the faint shimmer of dust as Viserion continued to carve into the stone with massive claws. The scraping and grinding sound echoed endlessly off the walls, accompanied by the low, resonant growl of the dragon’s breath. The dim light cast by the molten veins of the earth danced off dragon’s cream-and-gold scales, highlighting every sharp ridge and sinew of her colossal form.

You stood at the edge of the chamber, your hands braced against the rough stone wall as you watched him with growing awe and realization. What you had thought was restless movement or instinctive digging was far more deliberate. He wasn’t just clawing at the rock—he was building something.

Dragonglass.

Shards of it, black and gleaming, littered the ground around her claws. Some he pushed into neat piles, others he layered carefully against the wall, fitting them together in a way that made no sense to you at first. And then you saw it: the beginnings of a nest—a crude but unmistakable formation of obsidian, jagged yet secure, a nest only a dragon could create.

A sudden, bone-deep chill crept into your spine despite the heat of the cavern. A nest. Viserion wasn’t just here by accident—he was called here, driven by instinct older than memory. And he was not a he. The realization struck you like a blow to the chest.

“You’re not just a dragon,” you murmured, stepping closer, your voice almost swallowed by the cavernous space. “You’re a mother.”

Viserion turned her massive head toward you, molten gold eyes narrowing slightly as if she understood your words. She huffed, sending a gust of hot air over you that rattled loose stones across the floor. Her claws resumed their work, the slow, steady scraping filling the silence again.

Your hand pressed to your temple as a strange, familiar hum rose in your mind, a vibration that set your teeth on edge. The cavern blurred slightly at the edges, shadows flickering where there were none. Brandon, the name came to you unbidden—the voice that had guided you so far.

"You cannot linger. It is time to move. The dragon knows where she must go."

“Where?” you whispered sharply, your voice echoing as if the cavern itself had heard you. “Where must we go?”

Viserion paused, turning her head once more. This time, there was something expectant in her gaze, something waiting. The voice in your mind grew quieter, as though a path had already been laid and it was for you alone to take the next step.

You swallowed hard, stepping closer to her massive foreleg. “We can’t stay here, can we?” You glanced up at her golden gaze, your voice firmer now. “Then let’s go.”

Viserion rumbled low in her throat, an almost pleased sound, as she rose to her full height. Her wings unfurled slightly, brushing against the walls, and the force of it sent loose shards of dragonglass clattering to the floor. She turned her body, presenting her massive flank, and in that moment, you knew what you had to do.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you moved forward, placing a trembling hand on one of her scales. The texture was harder than armor, sharper than you expected—edges of her scales caught the light like shards of a broken blade.

“Don’t throw me off, Viserion,” you murmured, trying to steady your voice as you gripped the edge of her shoulder. “I need you to trust me as I trust you.”

You hoisted yourself up, clambering awkwardly at first as you tried to find a way to mount her massive frame. Each scale was a ridge of razor-sharp edges, and they dug into your palms as you climbed. You gasped as one particularly deep edge sliced through the fabric of your gown, nicking the skin of your thigh. Warm blood dripped down your leg, but you pushed forward, biting back the sting.

The scales cut deeper as you pulled yourself into position, straddling the base of her neck. You dug your knees into the muscle below her shoulders, the ridges of her spine pressing into your thighs. Your gown was shredded by now, crimson streaks staining the torn fabric where scales had caught and bitten into your skin. Each cut burned, but you gritted your teeth, refusing to let go.

Viserion let out a sharp, commanding shriek that reverberated through the cavern like a war cry. Her wings unfurled, and for a moment, the sheer size of her power stole your breath. The ground beneath you trembled as she shifted her weight, claws scraping against stone as she prepared to take flight.

“Steady,” you whispered, pressing your palms against the scales of her neck, feeling the immense heat radiating through them. “I’m with you.”

The dragon’s massive head turned slightly, her eyes shining as she regarded you one final time. Then, with a surge of power that rattled your very bones, she pushed off the ground.

The world spun as Viserion’s wings snapped open and the cavern blurred around you. You clung tightly to her spines, your fingers digging into her scales as wind rushed past, sending your hair whipping behind you. Pain sparked where your cuts met the rush of air, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t.

The roar of her ascent filled your ears as she powered upward, breaking free of the mine and surging into the open sky. The light of the sun struck her scales, setting her hide ablaze in brilliance. For a moment, you looked down and saw the world fall away—the Rock, the people below, all of it shrinking beneath Viserion’s shadow.

And then you looked forward, gripping tightly as the wind tore at your face. You didn’t know where she was taking you, but the voice still hummed faintly in your mind, like an unspoken promise.

High Heart.

You leaned forward against her scales, your voice low but steady. “Take me there, Viserion.”

The dragon shrieked again, wings beating with powerful purpose, and you soared into the horizon together—toward destiny, toward something far greater than either of you had yet to understand.

The moment the rumble started—a deep, bone-shaking tremor that seemed to roll through the very ground—Tywin Lannister knew something was happening. He turned his gaze toward the mine entrance, its dark mouth now alive with a faint glow. A distant roar echoed from within, low and building in intensity until it became a deafening, primal cry.

Tywin’s soldiers, hardened men who had seen countless battles, shifted uneasily. Some backed away, their hands instinctively reaching for their swords, though they knew no blade could stop what was coming. Horses nearby reared and bucked, their wild eyes rolling as the air itself seemed to vibrate with tension. The dogs brought to the site howled, pulling at their leashes, desperate to escape.

“Steady!” Tywin barked sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Hold your ground!”

His words had little effect. The earth trembled again, louder now, until suddenly—a sound like thunder cracked the air. The wind whipped through the clearing as the massive form of Viserion shot forth from the mine, her wings flaring wide as she burst into the open.

“Seven hells,” someone muttered, their voice barely audible over the rush of wind and the bellowing horses.

The great dragon soared into the sky, golden-cream scales glinting in the light. Dust and loose stones scattered in her wake, blinding those closest to the entrance. Tywin took a single step back, his cloak whipping violently behind him. His guards scrambled, some throwing themselves to the ground in panic as the massive beast soared low, the wind from her wings kicking up debris.

“Out of the way!” Kevan Lannister shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the chaos.

Tywin didn’t move. He stood firm, his gaze locked on the dragon’s back, where the unmistakable figure of you sat, your pale hair whipping wildly in the wind. For a moment, it seemed as though time had stilled. You were there, one hand clutching the base of Viserion’s spines, your form small against the sheer enormity of the beast, yet unshaken.

“She’s riding it,” one of the soldiers stammered, awe and disbelief thick in his voice.

Tywin’s face was unreadable, but his fists were clenched tightly at his sides as he watched you soar overhead. Viserion let out a thunderous roar, the sound enough to send men stumbling backward, hands flying to their ears.

“Control the horses!” Barristan Selmy barked, gripping the reins of one panicked mare as others bolted, nearly dragging their handlers into the dirt. Nearby, the livestock brought as bait screamed and scattered in every direction, a frenzy of hooves and dust.

“Make way! Hold them back!” Tywin shouted, his voice carrying above the din. Guards rushed to regain order, but it was futile; the animals were beyond calming now. One horse broke free entirely, galloping wildly down the path with a terrified shriek.

Viserion angled upward with a sharp tilt of her wings, pulling higher into the sky as if to remind them all of her dominance. A few men stared up, their faces pale, while others sank to their knees in what could only be described as terrified reverence.

Tywin’s eyes never left you. He tracked your form as the dragon rose above the cliffs, your silhouette framed against the blazing sun as you disappeared toward the distant horizon.

Kevan stepped up beside him, his face ashen, his voice tight. “Tywin… she’s gone.”

Tywin didn’t respond at first. His gaze lingered on the shrinking figure in the distance, the unspoken truth hanging heavy between them. Finally, he turned sharply, his voice cold and clipped. “Order the men to regain control of the livestock and horses. I want this site cleared by sundown.”

Kevan blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden command. “You mean to—”

“I mean to bring order back to my lands,” Tywin snapped, cutting him off. His tone left no room for debate. “This changes nothing.”

Nothing, except everything.

The men hesitated before scrambling back to their tasks, chasing after the scattered animals and pulling disoriented horses back into line. Barristan Selmy approached Tywin, his expression grim as he surveyed the chaos. “You know where she’s going,” he said quietly, his voice firm but respectful.

Tywin turned his steely gaze to Barristan. “Wherever she goes, she’ll return.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Barristan asked, unflinching.

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his face hard as carved stone. “Then I will find her. And bring her back.”

The old knight held his gaze for a long moment before nodding once. “I’ll see the men back to order.”

As Barristan turned away, Tywin allowed himself a brief, solitary moment to exhale. His hands unclenched, though the tension in his shoulders remained. The sight of you on dragonback had stirred something deep within him—something he could not yet name. Pride. Fear. Possession.

“Foolish woman,” he muttered under his breath, though the words carried no heat. He cast one last glance toward the horizon where you had disappeared, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his face before he turned and walked away, cloak billowing behind him.

The chamber was heavy with the low murmur of voices and the faint scratching of quills on parchment. A fortnight had passed, and the absence of your return had begun to settle over Casterly Rock like a dark cloud. Tywin Lannister stood at the head of the war table, his gaze unwavering as he looked over the gathered advisors, their faces grim. Kevan Lannister sat to his left, his usual calm replaced with unease, while others—lords, scouts, and captains—exchanged wary glances.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its warmth doing little to ease the chill that seemed to creep through the stone walls. Reports and rumors lay scattered across the table, carried in on parchment and uncertain voices.

Kevan broke the silence first, clearing his throat. “News from the Stormlands and the North,” he began, his voice steady but low. “Stannis Baratheon is dead. His forces have broken entirely—scattered to the winds. The Florents are rallying behind Lord Mace Tyrell in gratitude for their swift deliverance. Storm’s End and Dragonstone remain secured.”

A few murmurs of approval rumbled through the room, but Tywin barely reacted, his face carved into the same stern mask he always wore. “And the North?” he asked, his voice measured but carrying the weight of command.

One of the scouts stepped forward—a wiry man with the look of someone accustomed to hardship. “Cold winds have begun to blow, my lord,” he said, his tone cautious. “Our men in the field report strange weather patterns. There’s talk… of something stirring beyond the Wall.”

“Wildling nonsense,” one of the older lords muttered dismissively, shaking his head.

Tywin silenced the man with a single glance. “What else?”

The scout shifted uneasily. “Reports from the Riverlands, my lord. Travelers and merchants say a dragon has been sighted near the ruins of Harrenhal. Others swear it was seen as far south as Fairmarket. The creature leaves no destruction in its wake—only shadow and flame in the night sky.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the words settling like lead. Tywin’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, though he betrayed no other reaction. His gaze flicked to the map spread across the table, his finger tapping near the Riverlands.

“High Heart,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.

Kevan heard him and frowned. “You think she’s gone there?”

Tywin’s expression remained cold, but a faint flicker of something—a calculation, a conclusion—passed through his eyes. “She spoke of it before. A place of visions, of old magic. Whatever drives her, it led her there.”

Lord Tytos Brax, an older bannerman, folded his arms, clearly skeptical. “If she’s taken the dragon to the Riverlands, my lord, then she risks making a spectacle of herself. Rumors are already spreading like wildfire. The smallfolk speak of the return of the Targaryens.”

“And who spreads those whispers, I wonder?” Tywin cut in sharply, his gaze flicking toward the gathered men. “Fear makes men reckless. Rumors of dragons bring panic. I will not allow chaos to fester while we remain uncertain of her intentions.”

Kevan hesitated before speaking. “Do you still believe she’ll return, Tywin? It’s been two weeks. Dragons… they don’t belong in chains, and neither does she.”

Tywin’s sharp gaze snapped to his brother. “She will return,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument. “She will not abandon her son.”

The room was quiet again, save for the faint sound of wind rattling against the windowpanes. For all of Tywin’s certainty, the tension among the men remained palpable. Doubt lingered, though none dared speak it aloud.

“And if she doesn’t?” Lord Brax pressed, unwilling to let the question go unanswered. “What then?”

Tywin turned his icy gaze on him, his voice colder than the wind from the North. “Then I will bring her back myself, like I've said.”

Kevan leaned closer, his voice low enough for only Tywin to hear. “And what if she refuses?”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his face. “She will not refuse.”

Kevan nodded slowly, though the doubt lingered in his expression. “And the boy? What happens to him if the rumors spread further? If people begin to see him as—”

“He is my son and heir,” Tywin interrupted, his voice like steel. “Damon Lannister will remain under my protection.”

The men around the table exchanged glances, the tension settling back over the room like a shroud. Tywin looked down at the map once more, his finger tracing the route through the Riverlands. His thoughts were sharp and methodical, but beneath them lingered something deeper—something he would never admit aloud. A flicker of unease. Of frustration.

“She’ll come back,” he repeated quietly, as if reassuring himself more than anyone else. “She knows where she belongs.”

The chamber was quiet for a long moment before Tywin turned to the scout. “Double the patrols near the Riverlands. If the dragon is sighted again, I want a report immediately. No one speaks of this beyond these walls.”

“Yes, my lord,” the scout said quickly, bowing before retreating from the chamber.

Tywin straightened, his posture unyielding as he turned back to his gathered men. “This meeting is concluded. See to your tasks.”

The lords and captains filed out, their footsteps echoing down the stone hallways as the great doors closed behind them. Kevan lingered a moment longer, watching his brother carefully.

“You don’t truly know if she’ll return, do you?” Kevan asked quietly.

Tywin didn’t look at him as he replied, his voice steady and resolute. “No. But she is mine. And I know that much.”

With that, Tywin turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him as he strode toward the window. Beyond the thick glass, the skies stretched endlessly toward the Riverlands, where whispers of dragons and shadows waited to be brought to heel.

[bunny-1111]

Wooooo Theo requests are opennnnnn

Could we have some jealous Theo pls?

Ofc you can... jealous Theo, here we go.

Word count: 1.8k

warning: swearing, aggressive behaviour, sexual innuendo

unread or edited

likes, comments and reblogs highly appreciated <3

...

It was unusual for you to intentionally piss Theo off, yes, you loved to tease him from time to time, but Theodore Nott has always been a hot-headed assassin if you push him far enough.

That brings you to today, more specifically, one hour and three minutes ago, when Professor Snape entrusted your class to choose partners for an upcoming assignment.

Of course, as usual, you had made your way to Theo to get started. To your complete surprise, your teddy was already settled and started with none other than Daphne Greengrass.

The problem with Greengrass was that she and Theodore were both house Prefects together, and their corridor patrol had already been a tense conversation topic during your last argument.

She kept him from you. Yes, it was mandatory, but respecting your girlfriend's boundaries should also be compulsory, you recall stating. He kissed your forehead and muttered something about you being overdramatic.

So you suck your teeth and tap him on the shoulder, his body turning to you with such imperturbable composure that it was almost as if you were interrupting.

"Work together?" you smiled, your lips too tight

His hand had gestured back to Daphne. "I can't, Greengrass bet you to it, darling", he explained, letting out an almost nervous chuckle.

You took a moment to scan the scene; we're playing this game, sure, game on.

"Really?" You questioned, your voice a little higher than usual, only to be met with a nod, so you smiled once more before leaving him with a quick peck on his cheek.

That brings you to now, watching them from a distance, the quill in your hand threatening to snap from the grip you held.

"Oh, come on, working with me can't be that bad, can it?" Lorenzo joked, gently insinuating to let go of your death grip before ink exploded everywhere

"No Enzo, it's not, just plotting for murder" you sigh, nudging your head in Theo's direction

"don't go all dark on us common folk, kid" he laughed

"Oh, I'm not. The rest of you are safe... for now," you joke back

"But seriously, Enz" you continue, throwing your hand in their direction.

"Yeah, well, I'd say bring it up tonight, but your boy's got patrol tonight too. He told us he can't come for a late-night fly, you see," rambled Enzo, now joining your stare towards Theo and Daphne.

"He does?" you beam

"He does." Enzo states

You nod as your face reflects a plan coming into your mind, a taste of his own medicine

"Oh no, I don't like that look." warns Enzo

"I don't know what you're referring to?" you practically sing

"What's more, I don't like that tone in you're the voice," he says, moving slightly away from you.

"Have I ever told you how much I appreciate our friendship, Enz?" You almost pout

"Nope, no, don't start this", he complains

"How about for two hundred galleons?" you pry

"Ok, what're we doing" he smiles.

By the time dinner rolled around, you had made an undeniable choice not to sit next to Theodore. Instead, you nestled between Blaise and Lorenzo, moving in closer to Enzo than comfortable. Laughing a little too loud at his jokes, holding eye contact for a second too long.

You observed Theo's demeanour across from you. His fork clattered against his plate, his appetite visibly waning. Across the table, his dark eyes narrowed, flicking between you and Lorenzo.

It was working, and you would finish with a bang.

When Lorenzo reached out of his pocket a small piece of parchment and passed it into your hand without shame. Taking the paper you open it, smile and nod his way.

By instinct, Theodore's hand shot over the table to examine the note for himself, but you were a step ahead, moving it just out of his reach, before shoving it in your own pocket.

"Passing notes to your best friend, girl, huh, Enz?" Theos tone ice cold

"For our assignment in Snape's class, ain't that right?" Enzo smiled playfully, knocking his shoulder into your own

"Right, Snapes class" you reply

"ah shit, I slept in this morning. Who'd I get paired up with?" complained Mattheo

"Don't stress, Riddle. We get to pick; it's whoever you'd like," you explain, your eyes not leaving a now agitated Theo.

By the end of dinner, you’d had enough fun—almost. As you stood to leave, Theo caught your arm.

“Come by tonight?” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You smiled,  sharp. “I can’t, things to do. You’ve got patrol, remember? Have fun.” turning on your heels, leaving him strained.

Theodore almost constantly got his way, but this, this had to be dealt with; what the fuck was your problem and what the fuck were you up to.

Late into the night, Theodore walked cooly through the dungeons, Daphne beside him; as they walked, Daphne rambled on about Merlin knows, but Theodore didn't hear a word. He heard quick, shuffled footsteps around the corner; assuming it was some trouble-making third years, he quickened his pace.

As he approaches closer, he finally spots a shadow, as he squints his eyes he thinks he can make the shape out to be a girl

"Hey, stop right there!" he calls out, his voice echoing back in the quite of the night

Turning around you prepare to shrug your shoulders or run, depending on his reaction

"Alright, caught me fair and square, Officer Nott," you say mockingly holding your hands up

"Baby? The fuck are you doing, do you know what time it is?" he rushes brows furrowed, hand reaching for your face, he almost feels the need to examine you for injury, you're never out this late.

"I'm just fine, you won't write me up for this, will you," you grin taking a step away from him "Hi Daphne," you say as she comes around the corner

Before Theodore could reply or get an answer from you loud footsteps are heard again, this time not coming from you

"Are you with someone" he spills out, his voice sharp, accusatory

Opening your mouth to answer, before you could get a word out Lorenzo appears from the corner behind you

"You ready?" Enzo calls out to you then turns to Theo. "Hey mate, patrol kicking your ass or what?" he laughs walking to your side

"No, but I'll be kicking your ass if you don't explain to me why the fuck you're meeting my girlfriend at half past one in the morning?" Theo practically growled

"We're going to the astronomy tower, if you'll excuse us" you explain brows raised, attempting to walk off with Enzo, before Lornezo and yourself could walk all but four steps, Theos extending his rough hand to Enzos chest, halting any movenmt

"I don't think so, Daphne if you wouldn't mind walking Mr Berkshire here to his dorm, make sure he gets to bed" Theo demands, stalking closer. "I'll handle trouble of here myself" His eyes darkening as his hand finds your back immediately ushering you away before Daphne can even agree.

Theodore took you down a long hallway, out of sight before pressing you against a wall "The fuck kind of game are you playing with me, you think this shits gonna slide with me?" he mumbles as his hand slides up the wall behind you

"I was just seeing a friend, we were gonna work on Snapes project" you protest

"Yeah not on my fucking watch you're not" his voice now raised

"We're trying to sleep here!" A portrait from above calls out

"See don't want to upset the paintings now do we, I'll be going" you smile foot in front of the other, before you feel a pull forcing you back in your place, Theodore fingers gripping you by the loop of your jeans

"you got a real knack for pissing me off, y'know that," he says, his lips inches away from yours, his voice low

"feelings mutual, Nott" you mutter

Before you can protest anymore, his lips come crashing down onto yours, heavy, rough, possessive. You try to wrap your arms around him only to be met with his hands tight-gripped on each side of your hips, like he is trying to anchor himself. He was literally putting you in your place as his lips left yours too quickly

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

"Let me make something clear, try to get it through your thick, fucking, skull", he spat, his finger gently digging into your temple

"I'm not spending tonight with Greengrass by choice alright, I know why your doing this shit, you have nothing to worry about, don't give me a damn reason to question you" he rants

"I-" you interject

"No, I'm talking." he interrupts

"I don't share whats mine, you're mine" he continues his tone so sharp, it wasn't up for question, all you could do was nod

"So now you're gonna say sorry, Theodore and then we're gonna go to my dorm, so when you get to Snapes class tomorrow, you'll be limping" he orders

"I'm sorry" you say almost too quickly hoping the two words would be enough to get you to his dorm as soon as possible

"Good girl, I'm sorry too, for not making things with Daphne clearer, we belong to each other you and me" he says as his hand rubs up and down your arm

You nod once again in agreement

"Now what the fuck to do about Enzo" he laughs, cracking his knuckles as if to prepare

"No! I paid him to do this, I knew you'd be on shift, I knew you'd catch us" you ramble out

The confession makes Theo stop dead in his tracks

"You what?"

"I didn't know what else to do" you admit

"How much did he take?" he almost smiles

"300" you mutter

"that cheap git" he spits out

"Alright" he mutters picking you up throwing you over his shoulder

"Hey!" you yelp out

"Shut it!" a portrait from above called out

Ignoring the crowd above completely, Theo picks up his pace. "So this time, you can't run away", he says, tightening his grip on your thigh.

Let's just say the next morning in Snape's class, partners were swapped very quickly, Theodore insisting Lorenzo and Daphne were stationed on the opposite side of class; coincidence? Highly unlikely.

woohoo jealous teddy put me in my place next

[dreadsuitsamus]

Cute Aggression With Your Bleach Man Headcanons

author's note: this all started bc i wanted to bite kensei. also all of the banners you see in this post were created by the wonderful @actuallysaiyan!!! please give bacon lots of love, as she deserves every bit of it 🩷🩷🩷

pairings: kensei muguruma x gn!reader, grimmjow jeagerjaquez x gn!reader, renji abarai x gn!reader, byakuya kuchiki x gn!reader, kūgo ginjō x gn!reader

warnings: biting, grimmjow, mentions of alcohol, overall it's just fluff

Kensei is no stranger to receiving bites from partners. His big, muscled, veiny arms are just about the perfect target for anybody’s cute aggression!

So, surprisingly, it doesn't really bother him

This doesn't mean he understands, however

“Why are you like this?” He murmurs as you bite his bicep, having come up out of nowhere as he innocently reads in his armchair

It's not like you can be blamed!! He's the one wearing a compression tank top that makes him look a thousand times more delicious than he already is!!!

“‘ike ‘at?” Your teeth are still firmly latched into his flesh, but he does find the fact you're trying to still make conversation with him cute, and he kisses your temple before resuming his reading

Kensei Muguruma is soft and it's all your fault

And what's all his fault is being sleeveless all the time, thus provoking you!

He won't admit it, but he actually really loves when you bite him

You think he's cute :3

Admittedly, you don't often get cute aggression when you're with Grimmjow

Biting is often reserved for… Different feelings

But sometimes he's just the most adorable thing in this entire world, particularly when he's minding his own business, the demon on his shoulder having a nap and your teeth just itch for him

He's watching a movie, twirling a toothpick between his lips and is fully invested in the plot

You, however, are fully tuned into just how good his forearms look

You pounce right on him, your sharp teeth catching right onto one of those leanly muscled forearms

Your bite is rather strong, though it isn't as if Grimm doesn't deserve it

“Oi!” Grimm leaves the toothpick between his teeth as he uses his strong fingers to push your lower jaw together and release the bite. “Take me to dinner first!”

You're forced off of him quickly, and your boyfriend quickly tackles you to the floor

His bites can't exactly be chalked up to ‘cute’ aggression, though they’re certainly belligerent

Not that you mind these different feelings from him

As much as Renji tries to be cool and collected, he fails at it

The man is a bit of a klutz, and when he gets embarrassed he turns an adorable shade of pink!

So he sees more than his fair share of cute aggression from you

And goodness he doesn't get it. Which only spurs you on further!

It's movie night, and Renji’s decided to get fancy and make the popcorn on the stovetop rather than do the usual microwave popcorn

He's humming to himself, the kernels popping as if to his beat and he can't help but shimmy his hips a bit

He has got to spend less time on TikTok; he's had the same song in his head for days!

“Twin? Where have you been?” He sings, swinging his hips like they don't lie

There's a giggle from the doorway and Renji swings around, eyes wide and he knocks the lid from the pot in his haste

Popcorn begins to fly everywhere, and Renji’s socked foot slips on a bit of oil he spilled and subsequently forgot about, slamming right onto the floor

Your chest fills with love and you curl your fists before jumping on him, squeezing his face into your chest as hard as you can while layering kiss after kiss on him

The sore butt isn't very nice, but he decides he can make peace with it!

Cute isn't the first thing that comes to mind when you see your darling husband. Handsome, certainly. Refined, even. A big dork, absolutely!

Though it's during an evening tea time on the terrace when you first look at him and feel such… positive emotions that it makes your teeth clench and hands ache to pinch and squish his cheeks

He's beside you on the swing, having a sip from his teacup as the warm sun sets. His hair is silky and long, his lashes practically kissing his pale skin as he enjoys the warm tea

Your hands are already clasped together, fingers laced tightly. Byakuya can't help but run his thumb over your wedding band; it's a Kuchiki family heirloom and it's never looked better than right on your finger

And you'll swear on your life that when you brought his hand to your lips, it was just for a kiss to his knuckles

But your jaw had other plans, and that's when you oh so gently bite his hand. It isn't for long, and you do place an apologetic kiss after!

And then you realize yourself right after, and look up to find steel blue eyes staring at you with quizzical undertones

“What on earth are you doing?”

Laughing nervously, heat flushes the back of your neck. “I… I don't know. You looked so… so cute and sweet that I couldn't help myself.”

“Hm. Consider yourself, should this urge rise again. Such behavior is unbecoming of a Kuchiki, as you are aware.”

An attempt to hide how flustered and perhaps even pleased he is behind his next draw of tea is fruitless versus the pastel pink on the bridge of his nose

Despite living in a constant state of bastard, you find that Kūgo is often quite adorable!

He pouts rather habitually, though he doesn't always mean to

Whether he's rolling out pasta dough or working on his latest charcoal drawing, his lips press together in his bout of concentration, and sometimes the little pink tip of his tongue peeks out too

He loves to be on the receiving end of your overwhelming positive feelings so much that you almost think he does these things intentionally

But he's a bad actor, so it can't ever be anything but genuine

You hear some rustling downstairs and check the time: Kūgo must be home from his night out with his friends

You round the corner to see him sitting halfway up the stairs, his long body stretching out as he reaches towards you with a dopey smile on his face; he's plastered

And you want to be angry! He promised not to get drunk; you're set to have brunch with your parents tomorrow, and he's quite the bitch when he's hungover!

But then he makes the grabby hands and that pout comes to his lips, and his big brown eyes are so sad now too

“You're so cute, I wanna die.” You hop down to his level and crush him in a hug, swaying side to side as you coo, blowing a raspberry on his cheek too

Kūgo giggles at that, his cheeks turning red as he begs you to stop!

Which, of course, only continues the cycle! It takes ten minutes before you can finally get up to bed!

He's not quite as cute when he's hungover, but there's still enough of something precious in the man's pathetic, self-inflicted misery to earn him a kiss on the cheek

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 3

If you gave him your heart, your soul, your body- what would he do to those things? Maybe it's time to see if he can handle your love for once, and not just the other way around.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, mild Angst, fluff, slow burn but we'regetting somewhere, they have mad chemistry but mc has trust issues, mentions of past domestic abuse (mental), Outercourse (basically non-penetrative sex except with a dildo), toys, Cumplay, it's messy smh, hand kink? Increased authority from kook

Length: ~5k words

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜.♡

A/N: you'll never be able to imagine how much I struggled reconnecting with this fic. This was torture. I hated this fic so much at some point. I'm not proud of this part but if I don't get this out I'll never be able to continue this series.

-> Masterlist

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

Jungkook has really nice hands.

Not just in a sensual or sexual sense, but in general. They're big but not intimidating, because the way he uses them is never in a mean or hurtful way. They're soft, and kind, and they also look very nice. Masculine, and strong, veins underneath the skin sometimes a bit more visible than other times, but they also hold a certain softness to them. His nails are well taken care of, only his thumb sometimes giving you a hint of a nervous habit.

They're uniquely Jungkook. Rough, but not to be feared. Gentle, but with the potential to lead. Capable. Handsome.

They're his main way of exploring your skin too- his fingers often used to make shivers run up your spine, palms warm as they feel every curve of you. He doesn't need to look at what he's doing ever it seems like, hands having minds of their own every time they touch you.

Like a separate entity almost, listening obediently to their master's command.

You slowly wake up from your nap, feeling actually refreshed, when Jungkook walks in from the door, giving you a hint to what must've woken you up. "Oh- You're up." He smiles, walking closer with a plastic bag, though his first mission is to press his hands into the softness of the couch before he kisses your cheek. "Here- let me show you something." He impishly chuckles, sitting down on his shins, before he opens the bag on the bed.

You're in a state of shock for a good moment, not even having noticed him move.

He's got the audacity to laugh over your shoulder, front pressed into your back, hands teasing your sides as they sneak up your loose shirt.

"Bought one that's about my size." He purrs sensually, almost like he's mocking you. But it's not malicious- playful, if anything, but not mean in any way. "So you can call it.. practice." He explains, while you stare at the nearly clear pink dildo that's staring at you, still packaged together with other things in the black plastic bag in your lap.

"Jungkook.. when did you even buy those things?" You wonder, feeling almost scared to touch any of the things inside.

"Earlier, when you were napping." He shrugs easily, hand reaching past your body to shamelessly dump the contents of the bag on the bed, bag flying somewhere on the floor. "Anything look like an absolute no-go to you?" He asks curiously, and you look without touching.

There's an egg-shaped item there you're not too sure of what it might be. The dildo explains itself, clearly- and the other massage wand is also pretty self-explanatory. There's two bottles of lube- one pink, the other blue. A.. plug, with a pretty pink gemstone on one end of it. Leather handcuffs, with soft looking fur on the inside. Overall, nothing immediately makes you uncomfortable.

You don't know what gives you the confidence for your next comment you blurt out though. "Don't you have any toys?" You ask him bluntly. "Like, for yourself? Or do you just.. use your partner's body for stuff?" You wonder, and he looks at you with a sharp gaze, a smirk growing on his lips.

"I wouldn't mind using your body, that's for sure." He flirts, leaning his head a bit to the side. "Why would I need toys if I've got you?" He fakes innocence as he asks that question without expecting any answer- And for a moment, you don't give one.

But something about his flirty comment bothers you.

Maybe because you hear someone else in your head again- all the men who've degraded you over the course of time. Your ex. Your friends. Your father. You hear them laugh yet again like you're pathetic and worth nothing.

"I don't want to be used." You deny with a flat tone, and it's clear from the slight change in his eyes that he's now on high alert at your every word spoken by mouth and body language, so he can figure out what happened to change your mood like that. "I don't just want to be.. a toy you get bored off and toss away at some point just to pick it back up once you're interested again." You say, drawing a clear line.

You're not sure how he might react to this. You didn't want to make a statement like that, but you can't mask the truth. You really are scared of getting hurt at the end of this- you don't want him to just play around and then let you go.

You don't want to go. You want to stay- You want him to want you to stay.

He says your name to gain your attention, voice low and steady, horribly gentle- and it makes your eyes sting as you realize that this is the first time a man has ever spoken in such a tone to you. He notices the way your eyes begin to gloss over- and it hurts him too, the fact that you're hurting.

"This isn't just something fun to me. I think I might not have made it clear." He says, staying away from you as to not invade your little bubble you're in, letting you have your safety. "I don't know what happened to you in the past to be so full of distrust towards anything good offered to you-" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "-but I promise you, this isn't just a game to me."

"Then what is this." You say quietly, scared. "I'm scared that we're not on the same page here and that we're walking down to entirely separate paths." You complain pitifully with your back hunched over and head hanging low.

"That's because we are." He chuckles softly. "I'm trying to hold your hand here so we don't lose each other- but you're not holding it." Jungkook offers.

"I don't understand-" you shake your head, when as you look up again, his face is right in front of yours, eyes looking at your lips.

"Then let me help you." He hums towards you, before his lips press onto yours. And your body freezes.

Because he's never kissed you like this before- tender, calm and without any lust in it whatsoever. In fact, your realize only now that you've never been kissed without any hidden intentions or something to gain in mind. This kiss is soft, it's no words needed, it's love confessed in physical form. You've never been kissed like this. Ever.

And even more so, you're pretty sure he hasn't actually kissed you at all either- not until now, at least.

And it's all so confusing now, because you want to trust him, you want to just lean into him and let him have his way with you- but the fear inside you is still there, clutching your limbs, leaving you with no way to move anywhere- neither away from him, nor closer. You're currently stuck in place, and it's only a matter of time until he grows tired of you and your constant push and pull behavior.

You're hurting him, you know this.

Especially because you're kissing him back, giving him hope for something you might not be able to give him. You're cruel, aren't you? And the worst is that he probably knows even that.

Because once you start to cry, once you sob and cling to him like a touch-starved pet, letting all of those pent up emotions out because who cares, he doesn't say anything, doesn't ask what's wrong. He just holds you, gives you that moment, keeps your pieces collected in his palms for you to put back together later with his help. And you're not sure how many times you can do this.

Or how long he's willing to participate in this.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

Since Jungkook didn't make a move the entire morning, you've been spending it entertaining yourself as to not get bored. Not in a sexual way-

but by simply trying to see how strong his patience is.

It's a new feeling you've developed after just two days of being with him- confidence, and trust in that he won't ever hurt you whatsoever. No consequences he could come up with would ever truly put you in harms way, you absolutely believe in that. But what's disappointing was how he didn't ever get past a clench of his jaw, or a tilt of his head. He'd just.. let you do whatever, and never do anything to somehow discipline you.

It made you wonder. Is he even such an intimidating 'Dom' at all, or did he just make that up?

However, after talking about it after lunch, he's finally opened up to you too- having told you that he's gonna trust you too, that he'll be more open with you and his own desires, while you'll have to be honest about when he's going too far or too fast. And you agree- you want him to trust you too, want him to relax more around you as well.

After all, he wants to get to know you too, right? Not just the other way around.

What you did not take into account though, is that now, your actions actually will have consequences- and he will indeed put you back into your place in one way or another. And even if in that very moment where you piss him off he isn't reacting- he will remember those actions to remind you of them, later, when you don't even expect it.

Just like now, as he's finished some calls he had to make, finally finding time again for you. "I'm sorry- I technically told the studio not to contact me on my break." He hums into your hair, as you sit with him on the small sofa in his office, having practically demanded his attention back on you the moment he'd put his phone down, and he'd been visibly amused by it. Unbeknownst to you, he's more than just excited- after all, it feels like your week is finally gaining traction, as you no longer step around in the dark trying to navigate around obstacles that aren't even there.

He's just been too scared to scare you. But by now, it's clear that you're not. And it makes him eager to explore now that he can actually see where he's going with you.

There's a hand under your shirt, cropped top and cotton shorts nothing more than decoration really, considering he's already seen you naked. It's nothing too sensual technically- but at this point, you feel like something might be wrong with you. Because even a simple touch like this makes you.. needy.

He reaches over to the side, plastic bag rustling- and now you're actually starting to get antsy. Because there's only one bag next to the couch- the one that's containing all the different items Jungkook had bought this morning as he'd told you. And that's exactly what he's grabbing for it seems like, as he moves his arms a little to take out one of the items you weren't too sure about- already unpacked for some reason, as he holds it out for your hand to take.

"What is that?" You ask, fingers running over the smooth, silicone surface, while he chuckles behind you, since you're still halfway laying against his chest.

"Something I always wanted to try." He simply jokes. "It's really fun, according to a friend of mine. I've never used it with anyone before, but I think you might like it.." He hums, taking the toy away from you again, before his free hand pats your thigh once. "..scoot to the side for me, yeah?" He asks, and you do so, sitting next to him now while watching how he finally reveals what this.. object might be used for.

He has to adjust the belts multiple times to fit around his thigh, plastic clipping into place, before his eyes find yours, lips turned into a suspicious smirk. "Alright.." He starts, leaning back against the couch, and it's obvious that he's now demanding respect and most of all, your obedience. He points at a spot in front of him, and without words, you know exactly what he wants you to do, his expression one of almost.. pride, as he watches you stand in front of him, instinctually knowing what to do.

"Undress." He simply says, a straightforward command that you follow easily, because shame is something that you refuse to let yourself feel. He's not one you need to be hesitant with- he's promised you his honesty, after all, and he's promised you that even if things get awkward, it'll never change his view on you.

And his view of you is one of love, that's very clear to see and feel.

So it's not weird to stand in front of him all bare, clothes on a small pile next to your feet now, as he smiles. "Come here." He urges with a softer voice, having clearly realized that you've accepted his invitation into a scene now- for the first time not having needed any cues. "Take a seat, princess." He almost teases, and you do so, sitting on the soft silicone toy hugging his thigh.

It's pastel colored, multiple hues swirling together into one another, creating wave like patterns. "There you go... So pretty." He chuckles, hands running over the length of your arms, causing goosebumps to erupt from the sensation of his warm palms. He's feeling your skin a lot more sensually now, clear intentions as he touches your hips and waist, thumbs almost massaging the skin of your lower stomach, moving from the inside towards your hipbones before repeating the action.

His hands are so close to where you'd love to have them, and yet, you try and be patient. Because if you're good, he'll reward you, right?

It doesn't take long for you to notice the way your arousal makes movement a lot easier- your core by now slipping around with every little jerk of your hips, making you anxious to move more. And finally, as his fingers grip your hips, he gets into a more comfortable position himself- the unoccupied leg casually stretched out, while his back rests against the sofa, giving him a good position to watch you. "Show me how those hips can move." He urges, and you instantly take that invitation, slowly moving to test the waters.

You don't care what you look like, or about the wet sounds coming from the toy between your legs- because the feeling is insane.

He clearly let's you enjoy yourself for now, giving you free reign to figure out yourself how you like it. Your hips are squirming from side to side, ridges and bumps of the toy an odd but definitely pleasant sensation as you roll your core over it, uncaring of your arousal already leaking onto his grey sweatpants.

And neither does he care.

Watching you chase your own pleasure on his leg is just such a treat to witness- especially when he holds onto you, before he lifts his foot, forcing you down onto the toy without any warning, earning a surprised whimper from between your lips as he lets you down- just to repeat the motion a couple of times, simply to entertain himself. You're just too cute, even while doing such a sinful act. And especially when you clearly reach your orgasm is when he truly can't help himself-

hands guiding your hips to keep moving despite your clear sensitivity, just to see you struggle a little, thighs trembling and hands gripping his arms.

He's letting you lean against him, hips occasionally moving just a little, clearly still needy to feel more- and he's actually quite surprised when your hand curiously runs over the inside of his thigh, hesitating just shy of his very obvious erection that's only somewhat contained in his underwear and sweats. "You can touch me, you know?" He chuckles, making you look up at him. "I'm all yours." He tells you, and it feels like he's offering more than just his body to you.

But you don't get to think for long, because he's already helping you lay down on your back on the leather couch, unclipping the toy from his leg before he looms over you, hand running through your legs. "You didn't think I've forgotten, right?" He chuckles darkly, while his hand explores your still clenching core.

"You don't think I'm just letting you act like a brat and not put you into your place?" He purrs, leaning back on his heels, before he takes out something from the bag, his phone as well from the table close by. You're pulling back your legs, unaware that you're still exposed to him, lower lips plump and red from the friction of the toy, skin glistening with your arousal.

It's playing right into his desires, seeing you so clueless about your own appeal.

You're watching him press a hidden button on the toy, the pink object buzzing to life once, red light blinking while he taps away on his phone. "Oh~" He hums, trying out somethin it seems like, as the toy buzzes in different patterns before it stills again. "Interesting.. That'll be fun in the future." He chuckles, before he leans over you, kissing you with playful intent.

You're not sure what he's up to when he pushes your legs back down to stretch out, running the smooth object between your legs to cover it in your slick. "You're always so worried you can't take it.." He teases, looking right at you before you notice him push the object inside-

the egg shaped vibrator slipping right in, almost suddenly, core taking it inside greedily- only the elongated part staying outside, something resting right on your clit. "Oh?" He jokes, brows raised. "Where'd it go?" He jokes, making you laugh now, entire nature of this whole scene awfully light in that moment, lifting your overall tenseness entirely at this point. And for a moment, all is fun and games-

until he leans back, sits down in the corner of the couch, finger on his phone suddenly doing something-

The toy inside you buzzing to live, and not on an easy setting, that's for sure. He's obviously amused by the way you squirm, hips jerking whenever you move in a way that forces the part resting against you to move. And he's having the time of his life, trying out different settings and rhythms while watching you suffer under his antics.

"You still need to learn." He chuckles, watching your legs jerk whenever the piece that's resting over your clit moves just slightly. "I don't have to touch you to gain my fill." He says, simply scanning your body with a warm, hooded gaze. "Hm? You've had such a smart mouth the entire day." He coos, almost feigning innocence as he looks at you racing towards your final high-

Generously turning down the intensity so that it's not that harsh.

You're slowly catching your breath, when his lips tilt upwards, and his finger taps around- buzzing intensifying again, catching you off guard, causing a yelp to escape you as your hips lift off the couch.

This is too much. Or not enough? You can't take this, there's something strange happening with your body as it moves without your permission, turning over into all fours, front laying down as your hands frantically touch the inside of your thighs.

And Jungkook relishes in the scene you present to him, because there's a reason your fingers hesitate to touch your core, and he knows it.

You can't take it out. Not physically- that you can, if you really wanted to- but mentally. You know he's put it there, and he's the one in control. This is your punishment, and in an odd moment of realization, you accept it, thighs trembling as your body reaches yet another, warmer orgasm that causes you to cry out, voice sounding foreign to your own ears as your hips jerk, your knees pressed into the leather below the only thing holding you upright-

Or maybe it's Jungkook, who's leaning over your back, arm keeping your front elevated as it rests against your collarbone.

When did he move?

When did he shed his top?

Your core feels empty, and your legs feel wet. Is ge not wearing pants anymore? You can feel something touch you, hot and heavy against your thigh, and it must be him.

You want him. Where'd that toy go that was inside you seconds ago?

You’re still breathing heavily, cheeks still wet from the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen from your eyes. Your lashes are still coated in them, wet and heavy, when Jungkook kisses your neck from behind you, a reminder that he’s still there.

Just like he always promises. He never let’s you feel lonely.

“That's it.” He praises. “Hold onto me like that. I’ll keep your body safe while you let go.” He chuckles, and only now do you notice the iron grip you have on his forearm over your chest, nails digging into his skin. You feel a bit bad for it.

Though you just lessen your strength a bit, not letting go.

Suddenly, his other arm moves, grabs something out of sight, before he runs the object through your slick-coated cunt and thighs, covering it in your arousal before it prods at your still clenching hole.

“You think I won’t fit?” He purrs against your neck, and you swallow thickly, a strange cocktail or anticipation and worry mixing in your body. “You think I won’t claim this cunt as mine at the end of this week?” He asks again, and you can feel the wave if cool excitement wash over you- starting at your very neck, before it ends in the tips of your toes.

“I’ll teach your body to take me..” He almost chuckles, pushing the very tip of the clear pink toy inside, before he moves it back out- Pushing it in a little further each time. “I’ll make sure to get you all ready for me..” he hums sensually, by now having learned of your little kinks you have, as the hand from his arm still keeping your upper body pressed against his own finds one of your tits, groping the soft flesh before his thumb flicks the sensitive bud once to see you squirm.

“I won’t let you forget any of this.” He threatens almost, and you whine when you feel him push the toy even further now.

You feel so full. How much more is there to go?

“Jung-” you whine pitifully, eyes closed as your hips can’t stay still, all of it a stark difference to the fast paced, almost aggressive orgasm he’s given you just moments prior. “I cant-” you start, and he laughs.

“Oh you can.” He tells you, before he gives the toy another push. “And you will.” He purrs, and its then that you feel the base of the toy against your lower lips.

You swear you can feel it in your stomach- and for some odd reason, you like it.

"You're made for me." He chuckles, kisses at your neck and cheek before he bites, toy leaving your cunt with only the tip before he moves it back in, feeling of a Rollercoaster ride making your insides jump and eyes roll back. You can't think anymore, you can only feel- and right now, you feel just so used in the best kind of way.

Somehow, he makes your worst nightmares come true- but they're not nightmares anymore, just dreams, vibrant and pleasant. Exciting. New.

It could be so easy to replace the toy with himself right now- but he doesn't, because that's one of his own rules he will never break. Your trust in him is precious, it's a gift- and he won't tarnish that by simply being greedy for more than you want to offer.

"Jung.." you huff, swallowing down saliva before you can say anything at all. "Jungkook-.. please-" you beg, unsure how to phrase it.

"What is it?" He asks, moves to nuzzle your neck so softly- a stark contract to his constant push and pull with the clear pink dildo he's using to give you a taste of his own length one day doing the same. Filling you up. Probably even better? You can imagine him all warm and slicked up from your wetness, stretching you open and making you feel so full you can hardly breathe.

"More.. f- faster-" you request. "Please?" You add on, and he chuckles.

"See?" His breath fans over your neck. "You can be such a good girl." He teases, pressing the replica as deep as it can reach inside you, base pushing against your skin. "Where were your manners today?" He wonders. "Will I always have to ruin this cunt to remind you where your place is?" He asks, and you nod, shamelessly so.

"Yes!" You whimper, mind somewhere else by now entirely as you struggle to keep yourself still. "Yes- I.. I forget-" you huff out, and he laughs as he runs his lips over your shoulder, piercing a distinct contrast to his softer lips.

"Then let me remind you, darling." He hums against your jot and sweating skin. "You're mine, in this moment. And I decide what to do with you... or to you." He tells you, and you nod, legs quivering.

Only for him to move the toy back to have it slip out, hole gaping at him, closing around nothing. The sigh is everything he ever needed or wanted- cunt all red and flushed, lower lips swollen and glistening, and he has to imagine his own seed staining your skin, mixing with your own arousal staining the couch and your legs.

His cock twitches at the sight, a drop of precum escaping him without control.

But what he does have control over is the rest of himself, as he pushes the toy back inside, causing your toes to curl, especially once he moves it in a faster, steadier pace. It short-circuits your brain, everything around you smelling of sex as he uses the replica to give you a taste of what he could give you.

Your arousal foams up around the base of the pink silicone, creating a ring of white as you cream up from his pace.

The orgasm you reach from this is different, as if it happens somewhere else in your body- though his hand is quick to flick your sensitive pearl to send you off with a proper goodbye, soil leaving your body as you quiver and lose all control one last time, body giving out as he lets you lay down now, muscles twitching from the overuse.

And it only takes him one good pump on his own cock to make him spurt his release onto your back, where his lips kiss up your spine in his post-orgasmic fever.

He's drunk off of you. He's never even had full on sec with you yet- and he's already addicted.

You've got no idea what you're doing to him.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

In the bathtub, his hand is a lot softer as it runs over your body, cleaning you and nurturing this blossoming feeling you're growing for him.

You're both back from your respective highs, world slowly bleeding back into reality as you simply exist in the warm water for now. "Was that alright?" He asks you, and you nod.

"It was.. new." You say, voice echoing in the bathroom, together with the sound of water sloshing everytime he moves. "I didn't think I'd enjoy what you did- but I did."

"How so?" He wonders, wanting to know hour thoughts now that your brain is functional again. Feedback is important now more than ever after all- he has to still figure out how to navigate this new experience with you.

"I thought.. it would feel, you know, degrading." You explain. "To be used." You clarify, and he nods, carefully moving your hair to see the side of your face better. "But it didn't. It felt more.. as if I was.. of service? Is that the right word?" You wonder, and he chuckles.

"Its how I feel in my position as well, you know." He answers. "Knowing that what I offer gives you pleasure.. is enough for me." He shrugs, and you stretch your legs, cramps finally letting up. "You looked so pretty.." he teases, and you whine.

"I was crying like a baby!" You argue, turning around a bit-

Though you're caught off guard by the terribly soft look he offers you, hand reaching out to hold your cheek.

"Thats because you are my baby." He says-

Making you cry once more.

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

[dailynoodlezz24]

I've drawn Marcille with the idea of her being a deer/elk as a chimera, that's also based off of her dungeon lord outfit, but then a goat appealed to me and it makes a LOT more sense. An animal often sacrificed, but could also be the one who is sacrificed to. In a way Marcille used herself as a goat reviving Falin, and yada yada-- I think this is going somewhere. Mithrun would go apeshit, no doubt. But I love doomed yuri, love it a bunch, so a pheonix is such an interesting choice because I already have a sad little intricate plot in my head with it in mind

A really old and really silly sketch, but I found bells on the types of animals who are known to be quiet are a fitting design

The goat one is quite literally the deer draft but with meaner horns and coined pupils. Both were based off of her dungeon lord outfit since: fluffy. But bruh?? I don't have creativity stores-- all depleted. Gone. Ate it all the night I came home with wrapping paper and a sword gilded sword(with sword prints ON the prints)

Now I got a WHOLE doc just for this one; see that flying serpent right in the corner? Took the multi wings and tail frizzle(it doesn't have that, but I didn't want to add a pair of pings on a tail) right from it. I had THOUGHTS and IDEAS

basic idea: she's got a LOT of new stuff only to be hindered by it because her body is NOT built to do the things it does. Her human half is still as flammable as it can get, which would be "compensated" by Phoenixes defining trait: resurrection Plays WELL with how destructive Marcille is, both to herself and foes And here are weeks OLD doodles that have marinated in my brain juice

[saddleups]

hey babe i love your work <3 i'm glad to see suggestions are open, if possible could you do a drabble of james walking in on y/n while she's you know 👀 totally up to you to see where it goes i'm so curious to see what you can cook up!

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 1.1k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . request , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . f masturbation . "aggressive" james . p in v . explicit dirty talk . p_rn w/o plot.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . my requests are open , you're my first customer <3 i hope this satisfies what you're looking for. i'm one of the many who support a "pathetic, whimpering" james but , it's nice to imagine his perverted side hehe

Your heart races with anticipation as you wait for your plans with James. The thought of wearing the revealing lingerie you picked out for tonight consumes your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. You pace back and forth in the living room, unable to contain your excitement. Every few minutes, you check your phone for updates from James.

But the heat of the moment becomes too much to handle. You escape to the bedroom, shedding your robe and sinking into the plush comforter. Tossing your phone aside, you let yourself drift into a fantasy of what's to come.

Feeling overwhelmed by desire, you squeeze your legs tightly together for some relief. But why are you torturing yourself like this? With a glance at the closed door, you allow yourself to let go and surrender to your own desires.

Sliding the lacy panties aside, you slip a finger between your folds and gasp at how wet and ready you are. As you push a finger inside, a quiet moan escapes your lips. You arch your back and stretch your legs further, craving more pleasure. One finger turns into two, filling you up and sending squelching sounds echoing through the otherwise quiet space. With your spare hand gripping onto a pillow, you can't help but call out James' name as you lose yourself in this lewd act.

But just as you reach the peak of pleasure, James comes home.

He enters quietly, placing his keys on the table near the door before heading down to the master bedroom where he knows he'll find you. The sound of your passionate moans only adds to the warmth he feels in his own home. "Honey?" He calls out softly, searching for you.

As he approaches the closed bedroom door, he hears your moans growing louder and more desperate. His hand hovers over the doorknob as he debates whether he should interrupt or simply watch from afar. But the sound of your voice, calling out his name and begging for him to fuck you, ignites a fire within him and he can feel himself growing hard.

With a deep breath, James opens the door with quiet intentions. And there you are, lying on the bed with your eyes squeezed shut, vigorously fingering yourself. His mouth falls open at the sight of your juices dripping down your thigh, forming a wet puddle on the comforter beneath you. He can't take his eyes off of you.

As he approaches and kneels down beside you, he places a hand over your mouth, "sshh, it's just me."

Your eyes fly open in surprise, but before you can say anything, he removes his hand and lets out a low chuckle.

The embarrassment fills your expression as you realize he caught you in such an intimate act. Cheeks flushed, you admit to him with closed eyes that "This is so embarrassing."

But James just laughs it off and asks if you were waiting for him. You nod sheepishly, admitting that you got impatient. With fluttering eyelashes, you relax into the mattress with a slight arch in your back.

"Well then don't let me stop you," James encourages with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Feeling flustered but also incredibly turned on by his presence, you return a finger inside yourself as James slips two fingers into your mouth. "That's it," he praises as you suck on them eagerly. "Do you wish it was my cock instead?"

You nod desperately, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. Glancing down at the one finger inside of you, James scoffs and tells you that he knows you can do better than that. "Put another finger in," he commands.

And without hesitation, you obey his wishes, filling yourself up even more as wet squelching noises fill the room and drive James mad with desire.

"Your pussy is so wet," he growls, unable to resist any longer.

James quickly undresses, his eyes never leaving your writhing form on the bed. As he reveals his rock-hard erection, your mouth waters with anticipation. He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"Keep going," he commands in a husky voice. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself."

You comply eagerly, pumping your fingers in and out while circling your clit with your other hand. James strokes himself slowly as he watches, drinking in every detail of your aroused state.

"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Show me how badly you want me."

Your movements become more frantic as your pleasure builds. James leans down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. The dual sensations send jolts of electricity through your body.

Just as you're about to tumble over the edge, James slides into place, filling you up completely. With one last hard thrust, he seals your connection and begins pumping his hips. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer as he takes control of the rhythm.

"You're so tight around my cock. You like me filling you up?"

"Oh god, yes!" you moan back, "Don't stop, I can't get enough."

Your breath is coming out in short gasps as pleasure washes over you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with the moans and groans that escape from both of you.

James' rough stubble scrapes against your cheek as he leans in closer, your bodies moving together in perfect unison. He lifts your legs pressing them closer to your chest. With every thrust, James grinds his hips against yours, pushing you deeper into the mattress.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks with a wicked smile.

"Yes... so good," you gasp out.

"You belong to me now," he repeats, this time more forcefully.

You feel your orgasm building slowly but surely, every thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. As James picks up the pace, his fingers finding their way into your wetness and rubbing against your clit, you cry out in delight.

"Oh fuck!" You cry out as the combination of pain and pleasure overwhelm your senses. "Please... don't stop....cum inside me James, please." Your whole body tenses as an incredible sensation washes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

"Fuck," he groans out, feeling himself reach the brink of orgasm as well. He picks up speed, determined to bring you both over the edge together. With one final powerful thrust that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, James finally finds his release as well inside you. Streams of hot cum filling your cunt, he unsheathes his cock pearly beads of cum spill out with the action.

Together you collapse onto the bed, spent and satisfied. Your hearts beat in unison once more, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. You crawl into James embrace, "maybe we should to this more often."

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Notes: This story will follow the series on Netflix. This is separate from my other fic that I wrote. This plot was given to me by @missdreamofendless 💕

Chapter One - Loyal little raven

☆☆☆

You are perched on the steps looking up at your king. Lord Morpheus was about to leave the Dreaming in search of a Rogue nightmare. It was very rare this happened, and he didn't often visit the waking world. There were many dangers in doing so.

However, you knew your king and knew he could handle this. You just wished he would permit you to go with him. You look up at him with your beady raven eyes.

"You are coming back, aren't you?" You ask.

"Why would I not return?"

"I don't know... I just have a bad feeling about this. You know what he's like. Wouldn't it be better if I went with you? Just to keep an eye on things?"

"No. I won't be long. Wait for me here." Morpheus gazes at you. You sigh and nod your head once.

"Fine."

Lucienne looks concerned, too, but doesn't voice it. She stands with her hands clasped together, looking up at him. You fly from the stairs and land on her shoulder.

Lord Morpheus put his helm on. He leaves for the waking world, surrounded by his sand. He's gone just like that.

Lucienne looks at you. "Come join me in the library while we wait."

"Yeah, okay..."

You fly on ahead. You knew Lord Morpheus could more than handle himself, but you're just not sure today was the best day. You've had a bad feeling from the start. Just the terrible thought something would go wrong.

You wanted to be proven wrong.

In an hour or so, you were certain he would return with The Corianthian in tow. All would be well again.

Lucienne took a seat at her desk and began to go through her books. You landed on the edge and decided to help the best you could. Jessamy even came by to help, too. Lucienne was adamant about keeping you both busy until Dream's return. She was good like that.

So good, in fact, that several hours passed before you were done. It was only when the last book was on the shelf that you realised a whole day passed and your king had yet to make an appearance.

Lucienne realised too.

"Why hasn't he come back yet?" You ask, looking up at her.

"I don't know. I'll go search for him."

"I'm coming too."

Lucienne knows there is little sense in arguing with you. With you flying over her, she makes her way around the palace. She asks residents and staff if they have seen any sign of their king. No one had an affirmative response.

The fact that if he had returned and not immediately came in search for you was the biggest worry. Lucienne knew you were his most trusted confidant.

You were very clearly worried about him. She could hear Jessamy trying to come up with reasons why he may be late. They weren't helping much, but you also didn't seem to mind her doing so.

The throne room is the last place you both check. By then, you have lost all hope. You land on his throne. The librarian can see from your behaviour how dejected you are.

"I'm sure he's fine."

Her reassurance is appreciated, but not quite enough to cheer you up. Your king was still gone and worry had settled within your feathers.

All you could do was wait.

☆☆☆

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. Lord Morpheus had not returned to his kingdom. The residents of the Dreaming had become divided by his disappearance. A majority of them left, either to search for their lost king, or because they believed he had abandoned them.

You never thought such a thing. He would not abandon his home, his people, his responsibility. He took pride in being the dream lord.

You waited every single day.

The mkre time that passed, the more you wondered what coukd have happened. Something had clearly gone very wrong. Had The Corianthian hurt him? No. Despite being a nightmare who ran away, you didn't believe he would be Dream's demise.

"Where are you, sir?" You curl up in your wings, just wanting him to be safe.

Sleepy sickness set in among the mortals. Some either could no longer sleep or would not wake up from sleeping. They were suffering now that the Sandman was gone.

Lucienne stayed in the Dreaming. She was loyal as anything. Jessamy also stayed, wishing her beloved king would return.

Then there was you. You would never abandon your beloved Dreaming. Your home was here. All the centuries spent serving Lord Morpheus meant more to you than anything. You were his loyal raven.

Sleep eluded you. You could not rest without his presence in the kingdom. Lucienne had noticed from the day he disappeared that you could no longer sleep. She worried about you. Most of your days were spent in the throne room waiting.

Jessamy would do daily tours around the now crumbling kingdom to search for any signs he might be back. So far, nothing.

Your hope was dwindling.

A few more years pass, and there is still no sign of him. You had been badly affected by his absence. Lucienne was even more worried about you. The bond you shared with Lord Morpheus was much more than just two companions working together. There was clearly an invisible bond that tied you both together, and it was breaking the longer he was gone.

Jessamy started to visit the waking world. Lucienne wasn't so sure about letting her go, but she eventually caved in. Jessamy was doing this for your sake. She was worried about you too.

For the longest time, she came back with no news. Then, one day, in England, she caught wind of an interesting conversation. A supposed demon trapped in a basement.

Rodrick Burgess. A magic user, apparently. Insanely rich and powerful. Jessamy had gone to investigate where he lived.

She could feel him. She could feel Lord Morpheus close by. She had never flown home so fast before. She immediately went to Lucienne, who no longer had a library. It had vanished over the years along with most of the Dreaming.

"Lucienne! Lucienne!"

The librarian looks up and sees Jessamy flying in at high speeds. She goes in for a landing and stumbles. She's too excited to slow down right now.

"I've found him!"

"What?" Lucienne looks at the raven in confusion. Her mind went straight to her finding something on their king, but that can't possibly be true.

"I've found him!" Jessamy says, her voice full of hope.

"You have found the Dream lord?"

"Yes!" Jessamy flaps her wings.

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely certain. I felt him. He's being trapped in a basement under a manorhouse." Jessamy explains.

Lucienne looks up. "We must tell her."

Jessamy nods her little head and takes flight again. She flies right toward the throne room. Lucienne does her best to keep up with the raven.

The throne room doors open, and Jessamy flies in, heading right for the throne. You lift your head to look at her as she comes over. She seems happy.

"I've found him!" She tells you.

You stare at her. Lucienne approaches the stairs and looks up at you. "Jessamy believes she has found Lord Morpheus."

You look back at Jessamy, who nods at you. "He's being kept prisoner."

You stand up and stretch your wings. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"Are you sure you wish to go?" Lucienne asks.

"At the very least, I need to know where he is. Jessamy can come with me. If we can free him, we shall."

"Very well. Return soon. I do want to lose either of you as well."

Both you and Jessamy nod and take flight. You follow her. Lucienne watches you both go, wishing that all goes well.

☆☆☆

You land in the tree with Jessamy and look down at the fancy house. It's huge. Clearly, this Rodrick Burgess is wealthy. However, you hate the man with a passion.

Just like Jessamy could, you sense the presence of your king. He is here. You are certain it is him. You try and seek that connection you share with him, but it's weak. Still, you hope he felt you trying to get through to him.

"He's definitely here." You say.

"Yes. I'm certain of it."

"What do you know of this house?"

"Not a lot. Many people come and go. There are guards everywhere. However, I think if we can get inside, we can definitely work out a plan and get in there. I am certain he is being kept below the house."

"So we just need to find a way to him." You take a good look at the house.

"Should we go back and make a plan with Lucienne?" Jessamy asks.

"No." You look at the door of the house. "If he's here, I want to rescue him as soon as we can. I say we go for it."

"Are you sure?" She asks, uncertainty in her voice.

"I've never been more of anything. We can do this together. Let us go and see what they have done to him."

Jessamy nods and lets you take the lead into the house. You fly down and through the front doors. You find somewhere to land and examine the house.

There aren't that many people inside, it seems. Jesssamy comes up with a plan to start a fire. You watch her fly into the office. She sets the room ablaze. Jessamy rejoins you, and you wait. You follow her gaze to what you assume is the basement door. It's got its own security system. The door opens, and two people come out. Both you and Jessamy instantly fly through it.

The door leads to some dark stairs. You both go in and land on the rungs of the gate inside.

You almost can't believe it.

There he is. Lord Morpheus. He's completely naked and trapped in a class cage. His eyes find yours, and he slowly stands. You feel relief as you see him. You and Jessamy fly over to the glass cage. Morpheus raises his hand to where you fly above him. You would cry if you could.

Jessamy starts tapping into the glass as hard as she can. You realise she's trying to break it. You snap back to reality and join her. Both of you fly into the glass as hard as you can. Dream watches you. If you can break the glass, he can tell you what to do from there.

The sound of a pair of footsteps echoes behind you, and you stop tapping the glass to see a young man with a shotgun. You panic as he aims for Jessamy.

"No!" You gasp. You fly into Jessamy, who loses her balance and tumbles out of the way. The gun goes off.

Dream is left heartbroken at what remains of you. Jessamy gets out of there as fast as she can, leaving her beloved king behind.

There is barely anything left of you on the ground. Morpheus can't tear his eyes away as they fill with tears. There's a deep searing pain in his chest that takes hold of his heart. He kneels down and delicately reaches out as if he could touch your body.

Rodrick orders Alex to dispose of your body, and then he leaves. Morpheus watches as Alex picks up what remains of your body and drops it into a wastepaper bin.

He can't even bury you like you deserve.

Alex looks at Dream and then leaves quietly.

Morpheus curls up in his prison and stares blankly ahead. He won't let his tears fall. Alex Burgess would get what's coming to him. One day.

Morpheus will get his revenge.

☆☆☆

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