#also my days been good ty for asking :]]

[butch-2017x]

I hope it's alright to come into your inbox like this, but I just wanna say how much I love going through your blog! I'm sorta in a sonic exe hyperfixation phase rn and there's not too much stuff on tumblr about it except for yours and a few others!!

so i guess i just want to thank you for posting and helping keep the exe community here kicking still!!

alsoooo aside from that, do you actually have any Exes/Horrorbrew Sonic characters of your own? Even self inserts too!! I just really like seeing people's ocs < 3

but again, thanks for posting!!! love your recent headcanons about the funky little hedgehogs too!

Oh my gosh this made me tear up a little this is so sweet?? I’m glad my little doodles can be something enjoyable, I also have huge respect towards those in the exe community who have posted and engaged in it for a long time :)

As for the exe/horrorbrew ocs I have a lot but one i’ve been working out a lot is this guy called Blur !! He’s a version of Sonic that encountered an evil deity that threatened to destroy his world, he bargained with it to sacrifice himself in exchange for his world to stay safe.

He would lose his identity and he’s stuck wandering different universes trying to find - and or make the world he once knew, an unfortunate side effect of the bargain was that he was erased from existence in every universe so nobody remembers sonic, which adds a lot of trouble for the guy who can’t remember himself either..

There’s a lot more I want to explore but I’ll just leave it at that, I have special plans for this guy later but for now here’s some sketches I’ve made :]

[gothicmatter]

Don't play post your wrapped

[babacontainsmultitudes]

online, nature is healing, aaand cool dice :] <3

Hi Travis!!! 💜

hehe I like that both you and Sand gave me "online" but also "nature is healing"- I need to touch grass but oh boy when I do it'll be a time yessir

AND I DO HAVE COOL SOCKS- well, in theory, if they aren't lost to the abyss forever. :3 Also we can exchange hyperfixations any time hehe

[webbluvrsugar]

you asked for requests and you shall recieve my baby!

i’m obsessed with the idea of ethan x popular!bimbo! reader. she’s always dressed to the nines, loves pink, smells so sweet and he’s just so obsessed with her

a/n: omg!!! yesyesyes, Ethan would sooooo freak out with a bimbo r!! and also ty so much, saved my life T-T

Ethan Landry and his pretty bimbo girlfriend!

Ethan never truly understood what he did to deserve you.

Seriously, he just didn't get it.

He was only a nerd, a geek obsessed with horror movies, a mundane overshadowed guy — if you don't count the massive killing he does at night — he's just a normal person, some would even say boring.

And you... you're everything. You're popular, always circled by a big group of friends, always wearing pretty pink little outfits, always wearing large heels that sometimes get you taller than him, and honestly, he doesn't mind it, he stands proudly next to you when you're walking with him, likes it when your hair flies all over his face and he can scent the mix of sweets you put on as perfume today, likes to identify if you're wearing strawberry or passionfruit - but sometimes, he can tell which one by your outfits.

Plus, he's a good boyfriend, he doesn't think he's all that but you always tell him so when honestly he's just doing the bare minimum to keep a girl like you. He holds your hair out of the way when you're eating so it doesn't get stuck in your gloss, he holds your hand when going up the stairs so you don't fall, he makes sure your makeup is removed after you've had too many drinks so you don't complain the next day, and truthfully, he likes this lifestyle.

How couldn't he? He's obsessed with you.

Obsessed with the cheerful smiles, the pink lipstick stains on his neck, the way you laugh, the way you bounce on him and make his eyes roll back like he's the best dick you've ever had, the way you leave rings of lipstick on the base of his cock, the way you kiss him in front of everyone just to make him blush.

But especially, he likes it when you're a brat, when you cry and shout and act pissed at him, just for the pleasure of pinning you on those sheets, pulling your hair and give you what you've been wanting all day.

"If — if you wanted dick, y´could´ve said so," he grinds into you slowly, the same loving way he shows you affection off bed. "No need to be a bitch." he grunts, pace quickening as he shoves your head down on the sheets.

"I'll always give you what you need, hm?"

And sometimes, he even believes he's a good boyfriend.

[luveline]

Hiii!! Could I request a bombshell reader x Spencer where someone (a local police maybe) says something rude to her about her appearance or something and normally it doesn’t really get to her, but something snaps and she kinda shuts down/is rude to Spencer until he coaxes it out of her? Sorry it’s long I had an idea and ran w it loollll

ty for requesting angel! confident fem!reader, 1k

Spencer shouldn’t expect his colleague to hold his hand, especially one so confident. What sense would that make, a woman as established as you are, who smiles without a lick of worry nor smugness, wanting to hold his hand? 

But you do it all the time, is the thing. In the car on the way to crime scenes, in the hallways of the office, under the round table. It started as a tethering for his distractedness, when one day he’d wanted to talk but hadn’t had the presence of mind to walk at the same time, so you’d taken his hand and led him to the office. You’ve been taking it at your discretion ever since.  

Spencer knows something is wrong —you haven’t tried to hold his hand all day. And even if you aren’t interested in him romantically, Spencer has come to crave the touch. He’ll accept platonic hand holding. Anything, really. 

“You’re staring very deeply, Dr. Reid,” you mutter, shades from your usual lightness. 

“I’m thinking.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“About you.”

“Well,” you smile fleetingly. “You should always be thinking about me.” 

“You’re truly humble.” 

His joke doesn’t land, it crashes and burns; your smile fades completely into a short, sharp line. Your gaze moves back into the restaurant, waiting for the team's food order in silence once again. 

Spencer’s pinky finger twitches across the gap. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

“Fine.” 

You stay quiet, Spencer worries. He takes the bags before you can when they bring your food to the collection desk, two lumps of heat he holds to his thighs as you begin the walk back to the hotel. Tonight, the team will pick at their food together and rehash the same arguments they’ve been making all day, filling in each other's gaps, and tomorrow the work will start again. He can’t have you this unhappy again tomorrow. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, watching you turn to him from the corner of his eye, “you know you are, we all do, everyone who meets you. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, or to feel better, but… I’m here for you. If you want to talk. It’s been a hard couple of days, and talking about traumatic events as they happen and directly afterward make them easier to recover from.” 

“I’m not traumatised.” 

“Upsetting,” he corrects. “Having a shoulder to cry on is good for you, and I can be that shoulder. You know, if you need me to be.” 

He can’t know this in the moment, though maybe one day you’ll tell him, further down the line when the hand holding is better defined, but you look at him and you love him. To know Spencer is to love him. Or at least that’s how you’ve always felt. You’d love to cry on his shoulder about what transpired that morning if it weren’t embarrassing to think about, you’re upset over a throwaway comment made by nobody important. 

Spencer offers his company earnestly. He stammers. It’s amazingly sincere, as he usually is. He won’t mind if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just listen. 

You clear your throat. “I know I’m not to everyone’s taste. I know that the way I… present myself isn’t what most men like. People love confidence, but not when it’s bossy, not when it’s– when it’s vain. And I am vain. I think about my appearance a lot, I think I’m beautiful most of the time, I try so hard to have that be true.” You eye him thoughtfully. “Do you realise that?” 

He shakes his head gently, one ear toward one shoulder and then the other, as though balancing. “Sort of. I know you put effort into your appearance, but I also assume a lot of it to be natural.” 

“Right, well. It’s not natural. Not really. My natural beauty wouldn’t be all the beautiful to most people. And I’ve accepted that, I know what I like about myself, and–” You’re losing the thread of your point, an upset creeping into your melodic tone and turning it ragged. “When people tell me they don’t like how I look now, I guess it hurts because I know they wouldn’t like me before, either, and I feel defeated because I know I can’t win.” 

“Who said they don’t like how you look?” Spencer asks, confused, on his way to annoyed. 

“Officer Friendly.” You look to your shoes, watching the steps you take. “Guess he wasn’t as nice as we thought.” 

“What did he say to you?” 

You shrug. “Same story. He doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. Doesn’t like uppity women.” 

“Did he call you that?” 

“What are you gonna do if he did?” you ask without malice. 

“Morgan’s teaching me self defence for a reason.” You smile at his light joke, though it doesn’t last. He transfers the takeout bags into one hand, the other held out to you, his fingers sliding down your arm to your wrist. “You know you’re beautiful, with or without makeup. And you’re not uppity, you’re out of his league. There’s a difference.” 

“You’re flirting with me.” 

“No.” He wishes he had the wherewithal sometimes, but this isn’t flirting. “I’m being honest with you. Men like that don’t like you because they know they’ll never, ever have you, or anyone like you. There isn’t anyone like you,” he adds, sliding his hand into yours. 

He squeezes all your fingers together twice in quick succession. 

“Don’t let a jealous chauvinist halfwit make you think you’re not good enough,” he says. 

You curl your fingers around his before he can take his hand back. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. Then, smiling, you let him go. 

“I’ve never heard you say something mean like that,” you say. “Halfwit. That’s crass.” 

“I was going to say he’s an asshole, if that’s better.” 

Your laugh echoes off of the sidewalk. “That’s perfect. Say something meaner.” 

The insult he uses next doesn’t bear repeating. 

[cowboybeepboop]

Omg your Tyler Owens stuff is so good! Can I request something for him please?

Where reader and tyler have been seeing each other but they haven't told the crew they are not trying to hide it just enjoying keeping it between them. After a night of "fun" reader had big hickey on her neck and collarbone and the crew teases her about it all day even a little on camera and keep asking the reader who she is seeing thinking it might be scott since she's the only one on their team that he's nice so they tease her and tyler gets jealous. That night tyler shows her who she "belongs" to and confesses his love and the crew hears them but still thinks it scott til the next morning they see tyler and her leave the room together and with his own hicky and and the crew is shocked and tyler looks at the reader and just says "busted"

Idk just a funny idea just popped in my head

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reade

Genre: Smut, romantic and fluffy

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: Possessive Tyler, jealous tyler, hickeys, a small mention of a biting kink, secret relationship

a/n: Thank you for the super fun request, it quite literally had me giggling and kicking my feet as I wrote. Also thank you so much for your compliment, my requests are always open as I love getting to build off of others ideas. I hope you enjoy and that this was all you hoped it would be although I kind of changed the last little bit on accident ��

You and Tyler have been secretly going out for a couple months now. You’ve known him the longest out of the rest of the crew as you met in University. Honestly having feelings for him since the day you met but once you became friends you became too worried to lose him.

Your relationship started after a drunk night of confessions and has only progressed since, things just feel right with him. The pair of you have even started sharing hotel rooms in secret. Which is exactly how you ended up in this sticky situation: having a dark purple hickey on your neck.

You groan as you try to cover up the mark with concealer, he comes up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. Tyler grins, seeing your frustration as you try and fail at covering it up. He leans his chin on your shoulder, eyeing you in the mirror.

"Babe, why are you even trying to cover it up? You know it'll just keep appearing," he teased, nipping at your ear. You shoot him a glare, with no real heat behind it, as you lean back against his chest.

“Ty, we're so screwed.” you sigh as your fingers brush across the mark, “You know Boone isn’t going to let it go until he finds out who I’m with.”

Tyler lets out a low, amused chuckle, his hands slowly tracing your hips. "And what's wrong with that?" He teased, his lips wandering down the side of your neck.

His hands toy with the hem of your shirt, as if contemplating lifting it up. His voice is a low, heated growl in your ear. "You don't *want* everyone to know you're mine, babygirl?"

“Mm,” you let out a soft noise at his touch, “I thought we agreed to keep things quiet for a while..” your hands move on top of his as you pull them away from you slowly. You turn and give him a sweet smile while adjusting the collar of your shirt, trying to hide it.

You know he's not a big fan of keeping your relationship a secret, it’s just that you're worried about things changing within the team, or heaven forbid his teenage fangirls trying to track you down out of jealousy. You’ve always been a private person and he knows that.

Tyler frowns as you pull away, his arms dropping to his sides. He steps back with a small sigh, leaning against the counter. He's frustrated with you, but he's always been patient.

"We said that a few months ago," he points out. His thumbs hook into the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you closer against his chest. "I want to show you off, sweetheart. I'm tired of hiding you away...You're mine," he adds, his voice firm.

“I know..” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a soft kiss. “Just a little longer. Plus you have to admit, it’s a little fun sneaking around.” you gaze up at him lovingly.

"Sneaking around has its perks, I'll give you that," he agrees, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as you kiss him again.

His fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt, before his hands find their way underneath it, his touch warm against your skin. "But I'm gettin' impatient, sweetheart. This whole 'secret' thing is wearing me out..."

“You’re always impatient,” you give him another sweet smile, “We should get heading out soon…” your voice trails off as he slides his hands over your bra.

Tyler smirks at the change in your tone, his touch roaming across your bare skin underneath your shirt. He takes his time, tracing the band of your bra with his fingertips.

"Is that so?" he teased, his lips against your neck. He nips at the spot just below your ear, his stubble scratching against the sensitive skin. "What's the rush, darlin'?" you shiver at the sensation.

“Come on baby..” you reluctantly pull away from him, “We really need to get downstairs, you have a storm to find.”

Tyler watches you pull away from him with a pout, his eyes roaming over your body. He lets out a frustrated huff before he lets you go. "Fine," he grumbles. "But you're gonna pay for leaving me like *this*." He gestures down to the bulge in his jeans, giving you a cheeky smile.

You lean forward, your hands on his shoulders “I’m looking forward to that,” Tyler grins, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you closer against him. He leans in, as if to kiss you, but stops just short of your lips.

"You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he smirks, nipping your ear, and giving your butt a firm smack through your jeans. “You head out first, I’ll follow in a few minutes.” his voice calls after you as you walk out of the bathroom.

“Don’t be too long,” you reply with a teasing tone, your eyes flicking to his jeans. Leaving the room you head down to the truck. Tyler follows shortly after, readjusting his jeans to make his arousal less prominent.

He can't help but grin at the slight bite mark on your neck, and the faint redness there too. He slides into the driver's seat, glancing over at you before he starts the truck. "Don't you look pretty with my mark on you," he teases, leaning across to buckle you in.

“Shh,” you shush him, pulling down the mirror as you move your hair over the mark. “Ty, play nice.” Boone slides into the backseat with an annoyed sigh.

“Hey, I thought it was my turn to have shotgun Y/N.” he murmurs as his arms cross over his chest.

You shoot him an apologetic look, “We can switch, if you want.” his expression softens as he relaxes into the seat.

“I’m just playing,” he smiles at you before his eyes narrow in on the hickey, noticing it through the mirror you left down. “But what's that? On your neck?” he teases with a smirk.

Tyler can't help but chuckle as Boone teases you, his own grin growing wider. He glances in the mirror, watching Boone's reaction to your neck. "What *is* that, darlin'?" he chimes in, parroting Boone's words and playing along. He gives you an innocent smile, feigning ignorance.

“It's nothing,” you stammer with a bright blush, “Just a bug bite, I must've scratched it too hard..” Lily slips into the backseat with her drone in hand.

“Lily, Y/N has a huge ‘bug bite’,” Boone leans over to her with a smirk as he points out the mark on your neck.

Lily immediately zeroes in on the mark, her eyes narrowing. She leans forward, squinting at the redness and the bruising. "That's a hell of a bug bite!" she snickers, smirking. "It looks more like someone was gnawing on your neck."

“It’s nothing,” you repeat, your blush growing brighter as Tyler starts up the engine, pulling out.

“I wonder who could have possibly left that,” Boone presses a finger to his chin as he gets lost in thought. You groan, knowing that there's no way either of them will let it go until they find the culprit.

The good news is, it's nearly impossible for them to connect the dots between you and Tyler, considering how professional and friendly you keep things.

“Maybe it was Scott,” Lily murmurs to Boone, “he does have a soft spot for Y/N, she’s like the only person he can tolerate.”

Tyler bites back a scoff, fighting the urge to react as they mention Scott. He keeps his eyes on the road, his jaw clenching.

He's trying to keep his cool, but hearing them speculate about who left the mark, and having Scott's name brought up, is getting under his skin.

Boone glances at Tyler, noticing his clenched jaw and the subtle tension in his shoulders. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

“Oh come on, just let it go already.” you purse your lips with a sigh, “I’m not gonna give anyone any names.”

“She didn't deny it.” Boone says to Lily, his tone suggestive. “So maybe we got it right, I guess that would explain why she's so close with the competitor.” he smirks, knowing he's getting on your nerves.

Tyler's hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He can feel the anger rising within him, the urge to speak up and put an end to their speculation growing stronger with each passing second.

But he keeps his lips sealed, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to stay quiet. He knows that getting involved would only lead to them suspecting something. No matter how much he hates hearing them talk about you and Scott.

“Boone, just get your camera out. We’re getting close,” you nod toward the window in front of you, arms crossing under your breasts as you try to ignore their comments

Boone rolls his eyes and grabs his camera from the seat next to him. Lily sighs disappointingly, but she too reaches for her drone.

Tyler's still trying to keep his composure, still fighting the urge to snap at them. But the way your arms cross, pushing up against your chest, momentarily distracts him. He forces his gaze back onto the road.

__________

Boone keeps filming even as the tornado sweeps into the distance, a small smirk on his lips as he films you.

“Let's take a look at our beautiful Y/N,” he walks closer to you with his sly expression, “And her huge ‘bug bite’.” Lily giggles, joining in on the teasing as you roll your eyes in response. Tyler’s grip tightens further on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. He glances at you through the rear view mirror, seeing the way you roll your eyes at their teasing. A mix of anger and possessiveness stirring within him.

Boone chuckles as he gets closer to you, camera in hand. He knows he's getting on your nerves, but can't help but tease you further. You push your hand to the lens, covering it up as you shoot him a soft glare.

“Boone, you've gotta drop it at some point.” His smirk only grows as he pulls the camera back.

“Nope,” Boone grins, his smirk only growing wider. "This is too damn good. Who could have left that on your neck, darlin'? Such a mystery.”

Lily laughs, enjoying the banter. She glances at you, her eyes studying the mark on your neck with mild interest. You let out an irritated sigh, knowing the only way to shut them up is to give an answer, the downside being that it would piss your boyfriend off.

“Well, maybe it was Scott, or maybe it was some rando from the bar.” you shrug, your gaze going to Tyler with an apologetic yet pleading expression.

Tyler tenses as you answer them, the irritation and possessiveness bubbling up within him. He keeps his eyes on the road, his expression neutral, trying not to react.

The thought of you and Scott being together, even in this hypothetical scenario, fills him with a mix of anger and jealousy. But he fights to keep his cool, knowing that he can't reveal his true feelings. Boone and Lily both perk up at your answer, their teasing grins widening.

Tyler starts the engine once again, pulling out on the road as the pair continue to speculate in the back.

“So, it was definitely Scott.” Lily says with certainty, “Y/N is not the type to hook up with some stranger she just met.” you groan in response, knowing that all this talk of Scott was going to bite you in the ass later.

Boone nods, agreeing with Lily's assessment.

"That's what I was thinking," he adds, his eyes darting to the mark on your neck. "Scott has always had a soft spot for Y/N, it wouldn't surprise me at all if he's the one who left that mark."

Tyler grits his teeth, his jaw still clenching tight. He can't help but feel a surge of jealousy and anger at the mention of Scott and your nonexistent 'relationship' with him. You send the pair an irritated glare.

“Well, the case is closed. Will you let it go now?” your annoyance finally gets them to back off.

Boone holds up his hands in surrender, a bemused smile on his lips. "Alright, alright. We'll lay off. For now anyways."

Lily grins, amused at your irritation. "Don't worry, Y/N. We're just having a little fun, that's all. But don't expect us to forget about that 'bug bite' anytime soon." Her implication is clear, and Tyler's expression hardens as he gives you a frustrated glance.

You sigh, relaxing into your seat with the newfound silence, the only thing in the background being Boones music as Tyler drives down the highway. You go over all the possible arguments you're likely to have once you get back to your room, knowing that it's your fault for not just spitting out the truth.

Tyler is stewing in silence, his grip on the steering wheel still tight. He feels frustrated and angry, both at your friends for their teasing and at you for not just telling the truth.

His mind is racing with thoughts of you and Scott together. He knows he's being irrational, that it's not true, but he can't help the possessive jealousy that's consuming him.

He glances at you from time to time, his expression still stoic, silently seething. Your nerves grow as Tyler pulls into the parking lot of the motel, killing the engine and steadying his breathing.

Boone and Lily exit the truck, their conversation resuming as they head towards the motel, none the wiser to the tension between you and Tyler.

Once the others are out of earshot, Tyler turns to you. His expression is still stern, his gaze fixated on you. "We need to talk," he says curtly, his voice low and firm.

“I know baby,” you reach over, pressing your hand to his chest softly. Tyler's expression softens slightly at your touch, but his features remain stern. He takes a moment, letting the soothing feeling of your hand on his chest settle his emotions.

"You shouldn't have let them keep speculating like that," he finally says, his voice low and controlled. "And I really didn't like hearing Scott's name brought up."

“I know and I’m sorry..” you sigh softly, “They just wouldn't let it go and I figured if I gave them their answer they would back off.” your eyes study his face.

Tyler's expression softens a bit more, the anger and jealousy slowly fading as he sees the remorse in your eyes. "I get that," he relents, the edge in his voice fading. "But you know how I feel about Scott... hearing them talk about the two of you like that, it just pisses me off."

“But he's just a friend,” your voice is quiet as he cuts you off, Tyler lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"You say that, but you two have this... strange, close friendship. And it bugs me. He's always making those comments, he's always hanging around you... I just don't trust him, darlin'."

Your eyebrows furrow softly, you know you don't have a reason to defend him or yourself but it doesn't stop the words from spilling out of your lips. “We don't have a strange friendship.”

Tyler's expression hardens again, the irritation creeping back in. "Y/N," he interupts, his tone firm. "He calls you 'doll'. He's constantly flirting with you. And he's *touching* you all the time. How is that not strange?"

“It's not like that.” you huff out, arms crossing under your breasts.

Tyler's eyes flicker to your chest as your arms cross, a part of him distracted by the sight. But he quickly snaps his gaze back to your face, irritation and jealousy once again taking hold.

"Then tell me what it's like," he challenges, his voice growing firmer. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you two have some kind of thing going on. I don't like it, darlin'."

Your irritation peaks as you get out of the truck, slamming the door behind you. You're just frustrated with the way everyone has been pressing you all day.

Tyler follows closely behind you, shutting the truck door with more force than necessary. He follows you into the motel, his irritation matching yours.

As soon as you reach your room, he pushes the door open and steps in after you, his expression intense and serious. "We're not done talking about this," he states firmly, closing the door behind him.

You feel more relaxed in the privacy of your room, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you pull Tyler to you. “I’m sorry,” you press your face to his chest, “But it’s really not like that with him, I swear.”

Tyler's frustration eases slightly as you pull him to you, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist. The feeling of you against him soothes his irritation somewhat. He lets out a deep sigh, his grip on you firm and possessive. "I want to believe you," he admits, "But it's hard not to get jealous when I see him constantly all over you."

You giggle softly, your voice muffled by his chest. “We’ve been friends since elementary school, he’s just a little awkward around others, that's why he sticks by me so much.”

Tyler lets out a scoff, his arms clinging tighter to you. "Yeah, real 'awkward'," he mutters, the sarcasm evident in his voice. "He's always touching you, calling you cute little nicknames... that doesn't seem 'awkward' to me, that seems pretty damn intentional."

“Trust me Ty, he just sees me as a younger sister.” you gaze up at him, “Plus he’s probably going to propose to my sister the second he gets back home.” your voice is a soft murmur, as you reach up brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Tyler's expression softens more as you explain Scott and your sister's history. A mix of relief and guilt washes over him, realizing his own insecurities and jealousy have gotten the best of him.

He lets out a sigh, his voice quieter than before. "I guess I'm just feeling a little protective of you, darlin'. I don't like seeing other guys touching you like that. It pisses me off."

“I think I'm a fan of your jealous side,” you smirk up at him, your hand trailing down his chest. Tyler's eyes darken with desire, a low growl rising in his throat as your hand trails down his chest. Your comment only adds fuel to his possessiveness, stoking the flames of his jealousy.

He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling your body flush against his. "Oh, are you now?" he purrs, his voice deep and gravelly.

Standing on your tippy toes you whisper into his ear, “It turns me on, seeing you all possessive..” your hand travels down to his belt buckle.

Tyler's breath hitches as you whisper into his ear, followed by your hand moving to his belt buckle. His body tenses, a mixture of anticipation and desire running through him.

"Is that so, darlin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. His hands grip your hips firmer, his thumbs gently tracing small circles against your skin.

“I like it when you get worked up like this.” you press kisses to his neck as your hands fumble with his belt, pulling it off and unbuttoning his jeans.

Tyler lets out a low moan as you press your lips to his neck. His body tenses even more, his breathing growing more ragged with each touch. Your hand fumbling with his belt, followed by the unbuttoning of his jeans, only adds to his growing arousal.

His hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, babygirl?” he growls, his voice raw and husky.

“I’m trying to make things up to you,” your eyes are full of desire as you drop to the ground, pulling his jeans and boxers down with you.

Tyler's breath hitches as you drop to the ground, his gaze locked on yours as you pull his jeans and boxers down. The sight of you on your knees, your eyes full of desire, sends a jolt of anticipation through him.

He watches you intently, his hands resting on your shoulders, his expression a mixture of hunger and need. He's barely able to muster a reply, "And how exactly do you plan to do that, darlin'?"

With a wicked smile, you grasp ahold of Tyler's length, his eyes widening in surprise as you begin to suck him off. Your mouth is hot and wet, your movements slow and deliberate. You savor the feel of him in your mouth, the way he responds to your touch. His hands find their way into your hair, gripping it tightly as you tease him with your tongue, tracing the veins that run along his shaft.

His hips buck slightly as you take him deeper, your eyes never leaving his. The look in your eyes is full of challenge and defiance, as if saying 'You want to be possessive? I'll give you something to be possessive about'. Tyler's jaw clenches, his eyes hooded with desire as he watches you, his breathing growing heavier.

You feel a thrill run through you as you bring him closer to the edge, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. The sounds of his pleasure are music to your ears, his groans and gasps driving you to go further. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, feeling him throb in your grip.

Tyler's eyes are squeezed shut, his head thrown back in ecstasy. His hands tighten in your hair, guiding you as you suck him off, the tension in his body building. His hips rock into your mouth, his movements growing more erratic as you increase your pace.

You moan around him, feeling his cock thicken and swell. You know he's close, and the power you have over him at this moment is a heady rush. His grip on your hair tightens, his breathing becoming ragged.

With a final, desperate thrust, Tyler cums into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid filling it as you swallow reflexively. His hips jerk, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. You keep your eyes locked on his, not breaking the intensity of the moment as you finish him off, your hand still working his shaft gently.

As he starts to come down from the high, he groans, pulling you to your feet. His hands roam over your body, his touch hungry and possessive. You stand up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your own desire spiking from the sight of him so lost in pleasure.

He wraps his arms around your waist, his mouth finding your neck as he starts to pepper it with hot, demanding kisses. His teeth graze your skin, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spots he knows drive you wild.

You gasp as he pulls your shirt over your head, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. His eyes devour your bare chest, his breathing growing ragged. He cups your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples as he sucks in a sharp breath.

Leaning down, Tyler captures one of your nipples between his teeth, tugging gently before sucking it into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, eliciting a moan from you as he rolls the other between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your knees weak.

With a sudden, yet gentle force, Tyler pushes you back against the bed, his hands firmly on your hips as you stumble slightly. You let out a surprised gasp, but the excitement in your eyes is unmistakable. He follows you, his body pressing against yours as you fall back onto the mattress.

With deft movements, he slides your pants and panties off in one swift motion. The fabric whispers against your skin as it's peeled away, leaving you bare and exposed before him. You can feel the coolness of the room air kiss your newly exposed flesh, making you shiver with anticipation.

Tyler groans, his eyes darkening as they drink in the sight of your bare body. Goosebumps rise along your skin, not from the cold, but from the raw hunger in his gaze. His hands glide up your thighs, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending waves of heat through your body.

He peels his own clothes away with a sense of urgency, his shirt and pants dropping to the floor in a hasty heap. His chest is bare, muscles flexing with each breath he takes, his skin warm and inviting. You can't help but reach out and run your fingers over his abs, feeling the power in each defined muscle.

He settles between your thighs, pressing warm kisses into your skin, starting at the top of your thighs and moving closer to your center. Each kiss feels like a promise of pleasure to come, sending shivers down your spine and making your legs quiver with need. His hands hold your thighs open, his gaze never leaving yours as he kisses and nips his way closer.

Your eyes widen with anticipation as he reaches the apex of your thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. The kisses become softer, more gentle, as if he's savoring the moment before he takes you over the edge. His tongue flicks out, tracing the crease of your thigh before delving into your folds. You moan, arching your back as he tastes you.

The room is filled with the sound of your breathy gasps and his hungry groans. His mouth works against you, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving you closer and closer to climax. You're lost in the sensation, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you begin to rock your hips against his face.

His eyes stay on yours, watching your every reaction, as his mouth works its magic. You can feel the tension building, your core tightening with each stroke of his tongue. He seems to know exactly what you need, his mouth moving in perfect rhythm with your body's desires.

Your legs start to tremble as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. Tyler's eyes darken with satisfaction, his hands moving to grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he increases his pace.

The pressure builds, your body feeling like it's going to combust from the inside out. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he flicks your clit with his tongue, sending you spiraling over the edge.

Your body convulses with pleasure, a keening cry escaping your lips as you come apart in his arms. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to lick and kiss until you're a puddle of pleasure beneath him.

As your breathing starts to even out, Tyler pulls back, a smug smile playing on his lips. He leans over you, planting a gentle kiss on your stomach before moving up to claim your mouth with his. You can taste yourself on his lips, and the act of sharing your own arousal with him only makes your desire for him grow stronger.

He pulls away, reaching for a condom from the nightstand. His hands are shaking slightly with his own need, but he manages to sheath himself before pressing back into you. You spread your legs wider, welcoming him with a needy whine.

As he enters you, you feel a sense of rightness, of belonging. He's so much more than just a friend, more than just a lover. He's yours, and in this moment, you're his.

He moves with a fierce gentleness, his hips rocking into yours as you both chase the high of your shared passion. The friction is delicious, each thrust sending sparks through your body.

You bite down gently on his shoulder, muffling your moans as they build in your throat. Tyler's eyes darken with pleasure at the small bite of pain, his movements growing more urgent. He knows you're close, he can feel it in the way your body clenches around him.

He slows down, his hips rocking into you with a purposeful rhythm that has you on the edge of sanity. Each stroke is a declaration of his possession, a gentle reminder that you're his, and he's yours. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with the same patience and care as he does with the rest of your body.

You bite down on your lip, trying to hold in the scream that's threatening to break free. Tyler notices, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he leans in to whisper in your ear. "Let go, darlin'. I've got you."

With those words, the dam breaks, and you cum around him, your body tightening and releasing in waves of pleasure. Tyler's hips stutter for a moment, his control slipping as he's overwhelmed by the sensation of you coming apart beneath him. His eyes squeeze shut, his own climax now just seconds away.

As your orgasm subsides, Tyler's own builds, his breathing ragged and uneven. He opens his eyes, looking into yours, and you can see the desperate need in them. He wants to claim you, to make sure there's no doubt in anyone's mind who you belong to.

The idea hits you like a lightning bolt, and you act on it without a second thought. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. With your teeth, you graze the sensitive skin just below his ear, feeling his body jerk in response. He's so focused on driving into you, on reaching his peak, that he doesn't notice at first what you're doing.

But when your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck, he gasps, his eyes widening. He tries to pull back, but you hold him in place, your nails digging into his shoulders. "What the hell are you..." he starts to protest, but the words die in his throat as pleasure overwhelms him.

You suck hard, leaving a dark mark that matches the one he gave you. He groans, his hips jerking as he reaches his own climax. You can feel his warmth fill you up, and the feeling of his pulsing inside you sends you into another round of spasms.

"You little minx," he pants out, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rides out his orgasm. You giggle against his neck, your mouth still latched onto his skin. "What was that for?"

You pull away, licking your lips and smiling wickedly up at him. "Payback," you murmur, your voice still breathless from the intensity of your shared passion.

Tyler laughs, the sound deep and rich, his body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He leans down to kiss you, his tongue tracing the path your teeth had just taken. "Fair is fair," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

He pulls out of you with an exhausted sigh, his chest heaving with the effort of his release. Tyler rolls over, pulling you to his chest as you both catch your breath. The scent of sex and sweat fills the air, but it's not unpleasant. It's a heady, intoxicating scent that makes you feel alive and desired. Your cheek rests against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal.

"But you know," he says after a moment, his voice teasing, "I can't have just anyone leaving marks on my neck. That's my job."

You laugh, feeling the tension from earlier dissipate completely. "Deal," you murmur, snuggling closer to him. Tyler wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as your bodies begin to cool.

The sound of your combined breathing fills the quiet room, the only other noise is the faint hum of the air conditioner. You both lay there, lost in the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace, the earlier tension and jealousy a distant memory.

"I love you," Tyler whispers, his voice barely audible. You look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I know," you reply, placing a gentle kiss on his chin. "And I love you too."

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, the darkness of the room a stark contrast to the warmth and light that you share between you.

__________

Tyler's eyes slowly open, a yawn escaping his lips as you plant gentle kisses against his skin, trying to rouse him from his comfortable slumber. His arms automatically wrap around you, pulling you close.

"Mornin', darlin'," he mumbles, his voice groggy from sleep.

“You better get ready for the day,” you whisper into his ear, relaxing into his body.

Tyler groans, his lips finding your neck as his hands slide up your shirt, his touch firm yet gentle as he pulls you closer. "Do I have to get up?" he grumbles, burying his face against your skin.

“Mhm, it’s almost 9 baby.” you run your fingers through his hair, fixing the wild strands.

Tyler groans again, his body reluctant to leave the warm embrace of the bedsheets. However, the mention of the time makes him reluctantly start to untangle himself from you, his eyes slowly opening to the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Fine," he mumbles, groggily propping himself up on an elbow. "But only if you go get us some coffee, darlin'."

“You’ve got it,” you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “But you better be downstairs in 20.” your tone demanding as you turn away, grabbing your keys and wallet as you step out of the room.

Tyler watches as you leave the room, a sly grin on his face. He's never seen you this authoritative before, but he finds it oddly attractive.

"Yes ma'am," he replies, his voice still groggy with sleep. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.

He sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing his bare chest. He watches the door for a moment before pushing himself up and heading towards the bathroom.

You lean against Tyler's truck watching as Boone and Lily argue over something small, your grin growing. The two cups of coffee sitting on the hood of the car.

Boone and Lily, with their usual banter, are engaged in a heated discussion over something small. You can't help but chuckle as you lean against Tyler's truck, watching them go at it.

Tyler steps outside, his hair still messy from sleep, and comes up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"What are they arguing about now?" he asks, his breath warm on your skin. Your body stiffens at his gesture noticing how Boone and Lily gaze over at you.

“I’m really not sure,” you glance over at him, feeling your stomach twist as Boone stalks over to the pair of you.

Tyler grabs his coffee, not missing the way Boone's gaze goes to the mark on his neck. Tyler suppresses a grumble, his grip on the coffee cup tightening slightly.

Boone's smirk is infuriating as he approaches the pair of you. "Looks like you had an eventful night, Tyler," he teases, his tone slightly mocking.

“Looks like we’re busted.” Tyler gazes down at you with a soft smirk as your cheeks flush.

[yeonzzzn]

I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume. 

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door. 

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library. 

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!” 

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.” 

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you. 

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies. 

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives. 

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure. 

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin. 

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.” 

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!” 

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.” 

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective. 

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.” 

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one. 

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes. 

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook. 

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.” 

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.” 

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side. 

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.” 

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center. 

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake. 

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways. 

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered. 

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen. 

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes. 

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.” 

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board. 

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove. 

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door. 

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone. 

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?” 

“Can I have the police report?” 

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?” 

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?” 

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.” 

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.” 

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous. 

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.” 

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.” 

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.” 

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.” 

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep. 

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s. 

Meaning he wasn’t home. 

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number. 

“Hello?” 

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?” 

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction. 

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?” 

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.” 

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it. 

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…” 

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.” 

You raised your brow, “Yeah?” 

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.” 

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.” 

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.” 

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue. 

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.” 

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.” 

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.” 

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.” 

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.” 

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.” 

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after. 

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?” 

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.” 

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.” 

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line. 

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.” 

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.” 

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.” 

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag. 

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together. 

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag. 

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.” 

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer. 

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.” 

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” 

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours. 

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.” 

You swallowed, “Everything.” 

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.” 

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.” 

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?” 

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense. 

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?” 

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.” 

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.” 

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.” 

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.” 

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.” 

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.” 

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.” 

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening. 

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him. 

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them. 

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor. 

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face. 

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.” 

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face. 

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning. 

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?” 

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?” 

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.” 

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his. 

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid. 

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that. 

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck. 

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.” 

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.” 

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.” 

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.” 

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.” 

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you. 

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,” 

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.” 

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you. 

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.” 

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.” 

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.” 

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick. 

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.” 

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.” 

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.” 

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours. 

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.” 

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.” 

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping. 

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.” 

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more. 

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you. 

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right. 

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.” 

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.” 

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you. 

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.” 

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.” 

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was. 

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs. 

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back. 

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more. 

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily. 

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?” 

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret. 

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again. 

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

[gghostwriter]

Lips of a Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Future take Summary: A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k a/n: This is actually an anon request about going on a museum date with Spencer and interrupting his ramblings with a kiss and I couldn’t help myself so I connected this to ‘Wanted: A Gentleman.’ I also used my favorite painter here as a prop to yap so I hope you like it! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon when the BAU team closed a serial killer case in the state of New York. They were called in four nights ago and the stress mixed with a high dose of adrenaline that had run through their veins were on it’s way out of their system, leaving all the members dead to their feet and wishing for much needed rest over the remaining weekend.

“Hotch,” Reid captured his unit chief’s attention as they waited for the remaining members, Morgan and Rossi, to come down from their respective hotel rooms. “I’d like to stay behind, if that’s alright.”

There was a minuscule eyebrow raise from Hotch in question.

“Huh,” Emily mused, a teasing smile appearing on her face. “Funny, there’s also a certain someone that we know—” she gestured to herself and JJ. “—who’s in New York today. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

The blonde profiler let out a laugh. “Yeah, I wonder if that has something to do with Spence staying behind.”

“Well, does it?” Emily lightly elbowed him in jest.

Spencer clears his throat, trying his best to come off casual but utterly failing with his voice going up an octave. “Maybe.”

“It’s the weekend, take your day off,” Hotch conceded. “And Reid, congratulations.”

“For what?”

A tenor voice answered behind him. Morgan, it was Morgan. “For finally getting a girlfriend.”

“Good on you, kid,” Rossi added on, patting his back as he made his way through.

———

Locks of hair were escaping your loosely tied bun as you brisk walked to get to the steps of the MET museum. The emergency meeting with suppliers ran a little later than you anticipated making you already fifteen minutes late from your agreed meet up with Spencer.

A smile graced your face as your thoughts settled on the perfect gentleman. It had been a perfect match made by your three friends, Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

A blind date that had gone so great that it blossomed another date and another. This spontaneous one marked as the fifth and it brought to mind the first meeting at the steps of the Smithsonian and Spencer’s chivalrous move of tying your loose shoe lace.

“I’m so sorry for being late,” your voice reaching Spencer’s ears before he spots you adjusting the straps of your falling shoulder bag approaching his form. “The supplier didn’t come on time so I—I’m sorry.”

He rocked on his heels, hands wrapped around his satchel strap. “That’s alright, I just arrived myself.”

You knew it was a lie but appreciated his effort in trying to make you feel better. That was just one of the many things you could see yourself falling for in Spencer. As if you weren’t already halfway there.

“Shall we?” His lips forming a smile, no doubt remembering those were the exact words he said during the first date.

You giggled, echoing the same response. “We shall.”

“So is there a specific section you want to visit first?” Spencer asked as he flashed two admission tickets at the entrance.

“Hm,” you scooted closer to his svelte protective form, avoiding the onslaught of tourists groups excitedly entering. “The gallery of European paintings?”

He smiled and nodded. His left hand hovering near the small of your back, never touching—its’ warmth penetrating the thick layers of your coat and sweater while the gesture made your heart flutter fast like the hummingbird’s wings.

There was comfortable silence in between you. Inconspicuous side glances and shy smiles that say a thousand more words that seemingly can’t or won’t be spoken out loud. The tranquility was a sharp contrast to the bustling and echoing noise all around the museum as guests discuss with their partners the surrounding art and take photos as personal mementos.

Your feet came to a stop in front of your favorite artist’s work. “I always did prefer his work more than Van Gogh.”

Spencer smiled, gaze warm on your side profile as his eyes traced the escaped locks of hair that framed the modern art standing beside him which was you and your expressive face. His fingers, as if hypnotized, reached out to tuck one side that casted a shadow on your feature behind your pinking ear. “Actually, when you look at Klimt’s early landscape paintings, you could see he took inspiration from the Dutch painter.”

“Really?” Your body twisting to face him.

He studied your body language. Arms limp at the sides, open and trusting. Torso slightly leaning forward, attention fully captivated. And eyes wide, twinkling with curiosity. “Yeah, yeah—” he nodded, his own body mimicking yours and its unsaid language. “—and although Klimt’s colors are stronger in contrast, the impact from having viewed Van Gogh’s paintings in his earlier life can be spotted in his brush strokes and painting subjects.”

“Spence, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t strike me as an art critic. Is it a side of you that I’m only finding about now?” You teased.

“No,” he laughed, tucking his hands at the front of his jeans to fight the urge to touch you once more. “I read about it.”

“Can you tell me more then?” you further leaned in and whispered. “I bet you’d do a slightly better job than their pre-recorded audio tours.”

Spencer threw his head back and let a few chuckles echo on the walls. Your mind and its clever wit had impressed him since the first date. It was one of the many things he could see falling for in you. That was a half lie. In full truth, it was one of the many things that made him fall for you.

“Well, Klimt’s most expensive painting was previously stolen by the Nazis during WWII when they occupied Austria. Austrian Museum housed it after the war but there was a court battle for it and they had to return it the the family owner. And in 2006, Oprah actually bought it—” your smooth hands cupped his face, bringing his ramblings into a stuttering halt. His heartbeat, nestled within his ribcage, threatening to break from its confines as you stood on your tip toes, leaving a series of small kisses at ends of his mouth before landing on his awaiting lips.

“I—I’m so sorry,” eyes wide as you leaned back from his reach. A move that didn’t widen the gap as his body hunched itself forward, following you in its wake. “I couldn’t resist.”

He answered with a longer kiss, fingers twining with your silky locks of hair that had fascinated him since a while ago. “Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that too, I just didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

You exhaled a giggle, cheeks pink with happiness. “You definitely can, anytime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his smile mirrored the euphoria written on your face. If he were to try to describe this very emotion, he’d compare it to walking on cloud nine. To winning a lottery. Or perhaps to finding an invaluable art piece meant just for him.

And while the surroundings were still dull and mundane, there were a burst of colors that splashed Spencer’s world anew as his warm comforting hand now finally found its way to yours and his thumb invisibly painting abstract at the back of your palm.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[luvologyy]

Daisuke relationship headcanonsᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

NSFW/SFW SO MDNII TY!

Daisuke x f!reader ᵔᴗᵔ.ᐟ

It can take place on earth or on the tulpar.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated 💗

· · ──꒰ঌ·🌺·໒꒱ ── · ·

SFW HEADCANONS

★ He never stops trying to impress you. he even fails and embarrasses himself. yet it’s okay. You think it’s cute

★ he always craves you, not even just sexually but physically, too. Just your smell, your vibe, your company. Just you.

★ hates seeing you sad, angry, etc. He thinks he mightve done something to make you feel that way. So he does everything in his power to get you out of it.

"Hey baby, I got you a drink from the kitchen!"

"Thank you, I'm not thirsty, though.." He heard the tone on your voice and knew something was wrong, it was blunt but still soft and welcoming.

"Are you okay??" Daisuke asked

You just shrug your shoulders not saying anything.

Daisuke sitting beside you and wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzling against your hair. "It's okay, Mama, I gotchu."

★ such a cuddle bug, like my baby loves being touched and touching you.

★ this boy is soo clingy. He's always following you, holding on to your hand or sleeve.

★ loves hugs, every time you're at the counter or a table, he always walks behind you and hugs you from behind. HE WONT LET GO AFTER THAT.

★ he accidently called you mama/mommy when you guys were cuddling. HE WAS EMBARRASSED.

"Make sure you get your daily tasks done later, though, okay?"

"Okay, Mama.." He grumbled tiredly, his face nuzzling into your neck.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you." You chuckled, pulling his face away

"NO NOO IM SORRY I CALLED YOU THAT I-" he was a rambling mess, embarrassed you caught him calling you mama.

"No, no! It's okay, sweet boy. I don't mind it, you can call me it whenever."

★ You guys are the sun x moon dynamic fr

★ you'd always let him babble away about his day or whatever he'd talk about, and he noticed how you'd genuinely listen and was interested on what he'd talk about. It made him giddy and happy.

★ always convinces you to do dumb shit with him, and if you’re already naturally a reckless person you’d just add to his fire. But if you're more mature than him, you'd try to talk him out of his reckless behaviors.

★ says “again” or “one more, mama” after kissing you (you always giggle and grant his wish ofc)

★ He'll get competitive with you just for fun. He'll make up races and let you win because he loves seeing you smile

★ whenever yall cuddle HE SNORESS. But doesn't snore super loudly like Swansea

★ He likes it when you brush his hair and style it. BUT HE ALSO HATES IT. He'd complain how you're too rough and how tangled his hair is.

★ Always gives you cheek kisses everytime you guys hug or cuddle.

★ He's REALLY STINGY WITH HIS FOOD, but he'll always share with you.

★ this boy thinks you're an absolute goddess. Every time you wear new outfits and show him, his eyes turn into literal hearts.

★ he gets so giddy when you pepper small kisses all over his face, especially if you wear lipstick and kiss him.

NSFW HEADCANONS!

★ He's such a chatter box when he's in bed, especially when he's about to release or when being edged.

★ He's into praise and a little degration. But nothing too crazy like "bitch". Just being called a slutty boy gets his gears grinding..

★ dudes got a mommy kink. No questions asked.

★ pleaseee sit on his face. He loves it. He'll let you sit on his face for hours.

★ HES A MUNCH. He'll tie his hair up every time he eats it. He genuinely thinks you taste so good. He'll even accidently overstimulate you without realizing it.

★ He's such a whiney boy when he's being edged or overstimulated. Whimpering and crying begging to cum.

"F-ffuckk, mommy, I don't think I can take it .."

"Can i please cum, pleasee mommy I've been a good boy!"

"Your hands feel so soo good mommy.."

★ Daisuke loves cowgirl and missionary, but mostly cowgirl. being able to look you in the eye as you take control. His hands gently holding your hips as you bounce on his cock. Mesmerized by your tits in his face and the sounds leaving your lips.

★ absolutely adores your body. He loves how soft and squishy it is, especially your thighs and tits.

★ He loves doing the finger + tongue combo..

"You taste so good mommy.. so good."

"I can feel you getting closer mommy."

"Please cum for me mommy, please cum for your good slutty boy!"

★ he literslly begs you to cum, his pleasure is your pleasure. So eager to please you.

★ Daisuke is so Eagar and messy. He wants to bury himself in your cunt and never leave. Lapping at your folds and slurping on your slick. Daisuke will stay there until you force him to breathe, showing off his face with your slick dripping down his chin.

★ He doesn't get to fuck you a lot in missionary or just straight up at all, mostly eatting you out or you jerking him off. So when you allowed him to fuck you in missionary he was so giddy and excited.

★ daisuke was a total virgin. Yeah, he might've gotten a hand job in high school, but he had no actual experience. Until he met youuu.

"Fffuckkk, mommy, you're so tight! Mmmhh..."

"Your pussy feels soo gooddd.."

"T-thank you for letting.. me cum mami.."

★ doesn’t really like quickies. He'd rather take his time with you. Having it being nice, romantic, and slow. His way to goo

★ This baby loves to take care of you and being able to spoil you, but he’s gonna be a bit clumsy. Stuttering and second-guessing himself. Also, please remember Daisuke NEEDS aftercare himself. Sex is new to him, especially if he's a virgin. he’s gonna need some reassurance afterward.

★ He's so eager to do anything you say, if you want him to lay down, he'll do it. If you want him to be on his knees for you. HE'LL DO ITT

★ God when you sit on his face and you start to slowly grind on him, his hands having a firm grip on your thighs. you can practically hear him moaning in your pussy, “mmm so good" or "more mommy I want more.." UGH

Sorry guys, this is so rushed, and it SUCKKS.

[goodeapple]

words on the page (aemond t. sex pollen pwp o.s.)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : PWP, dubcon- this is sex pollen (obvi) they are technically not fully consenting. might be hatesex but it also might not, uncle/niece incest, a ridiculous amount of orgasms, squirting, restraint, spanking & slapping, and a slighttt breeding kink (srry i couldn't help myself)

word count : 10,000+

note : hope everyone enjoys. ty for all the love, always. likes, reblogs, comments, anything is gas in my tank xx

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“This library is big enough for the both of us, Uncle. You stay on your side, and I, on mine.” Ysilla offers, already working on tuning out the One-Eyed Prince’s mutterings as she gets lost in the sprawling shelves. 

“What if I want a book that’s on your side?” Aemond’s voice echoes up to the grand ceilings from where he must be several rows over, his annoyance clearer than the windows in the Sept. 

Ysilla rolls her eyes so hard she fears they might stick. “Do you not understand the concept of my side and your side?”

“These are all my sides. I grew up in between these stacks- I’m sure the texts at Dragonstone are missing you terribly. Why don't you go back and see if I’m right.” 

That retort stabs at her, the mourning for her home still living on in the thick ball of grief that resides heavily in her heart. It’s been a year since her mother took her rightful place on the Iron Throne, a year since the King had passed, and a year where all members of the Targaryen family had to learn how to live amongst one another once more. Nobody was enjoying it. And there were more days than not that the Princess fantasized of stealing borrowing a boat and sailing back to her beloved pile of rocks. 

“Shouldn’t you be out, oh, I don’t know, swinging a sword or ducking under one? You know, what men do.” It’s childish but Ysilla doesn’t mind stooping lower than her years. Her brothers keep her young and nimble, each one bringing with him a fresh battle of wits and stubbornness.  

He goes silent, blessedly, and she resumes her stroll, picking and plucking titles off the shelves that join the burgeoning pile cradled tight in her arms. Her mind wanders, the endless catalogues of writings whispering their words, lulling her further and further into the scriptural maze. 

Ysilla spots a peculiar text on a shelf taller than her, the aphotic ruby binding and woven gold stitching calling her name. She reaches up, tiptoeing until her feet creak and attempts to hook her finger under the edge of the spine. The old book sticks in place, judging her with a faceless scowl. She grunts, wobbling slightly, pushing forward again and gives it a good strong tug. Too strong, as it flies freely through the air and  Ysilla yelps, jumping to the side to dodge it. Everything goes topsy turvy, her balance lost to her and the rest of her assembled collection clatters to the ground. 

She curses, deaf to the sound of approaching footsteps as she drops to her knees and starts to gather the fallen books. She’s considerate of the older ones, stacking them carefully off to the side of the walkway. The causer of the chaos had landed face down, the text split open as if the ground itself was interested in its contents. Ysilla grasps it gently and turns it over, causing a plume of dust to shift off the pages and billow directly into her face. 

She coughs, sputtering for a breath that isn’t made up of ancient soot. She scrubs at her nose, sniffling and groaning in discomfort as her sinuses burn and her throat grows parched. Her eyelids wrench shut, tears already hot and clumping in her lashes. 

A vice grip in the form of strong fingers finds her arm, and she latches onto them desperately. She’s pulled to her feet, and a downy cloth is pressed tightly into her hand. She pats her face with it, drying her tears and spittle, its perfume of oranges and smoke chasing away the moldered stink clinging to every sense she has. 

“You alright?” Aemond asks cautiously, still holding her elbow steady. Ysilla blinks blearily at him, her nose red at the tip. She nods after a pause, coughing softly into his handkerchief. 

“Couldn’t breathe there for a moment.” She croaks, chuckling weakly before she gently pulls her elbow away. Aemond drops his hold, clasping his arms behind him and taking a step backwards. 

“The library is all yours- I’m going to go lie down.” 

She offers his hanky back, feeling a bit dumb as she does and more than a little embarrassed. Her uncle waves her off, and she skirts around him, careful not to intrude into his space. 

“Niece,” Ysilla turns. Concern is not a look she’s accustomed to seeing on his face, and certainly not when it’s directed at her, but the sight of it sends little tingles through her tummy. “Do you need me to escort you to your room?” 

She smiles dimly, self-conscious in all the ways that turn her cheeks peachy. 

“I think I can manage… thank you, Aemond.” Ysilla curtsies in a silly show of thanks, but he can tell her sentiment is genuine. 

Aemond swallows thickly, bowing his head in acknowledgment, watching her keenly as she shuffles out the doors that lead to the rest of the castle. She never calls him by his name. Always Uncle, and even sometimes My Prince, but the mocking lilt of that one is not lost on him. Aemond though… it’s like he’s hearing a brand new word.  

Shrugging off his worriment, he sighs, squatting down to collect the strewn about books. He inspects them as he does, less so judging and more so learning about his niece’s interests through her chosen reading materials. There’s a collection of songs- one for Drowned Men and one for Northmen that he’s read before. Another about the Lion King, Tommen II Lannister and his adventures in Volantis and, most provocatively, the remaining charred pages of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Aemond holds onto it for longer than the others; she must’ve searched long and hard for it, he’s never even once stumbled across it in here. He tucks it carefully onto a shelf he’ll remember, and thinks of letting Ysilla know where she can find it later. 

Lastly, he comes to the one that sent her into a coughing fit and he regards it carefully. It isn’t smart, but even so, Aemond draws his dagger and nudges at it, angling up the flap so that he can read the title: Potions of Old Valyria. He lifts it too high, trying to see better in the dreary light of dusk and loses his leverage, the cover falling closed and puffing out a small cloud of dust in his direction. He snaps backwards but he’s not fast enough, the grit already coating the slick press of his lips. Aemond spits, growling, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. He winces as his nose stings, the watering in his eye blurring his vision. 

He shoots to his feet, gathering up the massive stack of books and tossing them onto an empty writing desk, kicking away the potion book in juvenile anger. He stalks out of the library, cursing blindly as he retreats to his room. 

The Prince does not read the page of which the dust had danced off of. But if he had, mayhaps he would have rethought the course of his actions that night. 

“Pollen of the flower Turnera diffusa- a specimen of which is contained in this very page- has a curious effect on the indulger. Found growing along the creeks of Honeyholt, symptoms noted are as follows: fever, delirium, lightheadedness, and most notably, a heightened state of arousal. The affected should take caution to whom they keep in their company while under the spell of this love plant.” 

.

Aemond shucks off his jerkin, sending it flying across the room carelessly. 

It's still there- the rabid itch under his collar. He stalks to his mirror, tearing up his shirt to check his skin, looking for a bite, a scratch, anything to explain the scorching sting engulfing him in full. Nothing, not even a blemish, mars his pale chest. 

He curses, spinning on his heel and going for his table, seizing the wine pitcher so roughly the lit candles nearby shudder from his haste. He pours a full goblet, the deep burgundy trickle causing his mouth to flood with anticipation. He downs it in several gulps, gasping as he rips the cup away and lets it teeter on the table until it spins out, toppling over emptily. He might as well’ve drank from the Great Sand Sea, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He clutches at his stomach, a sharp shooting pain ripping up his insides. He groans, taking a knee as his legs wobble beneath his weight. 

Fuck, he wonders if it was the book, the dust he breathed in. If Ysilla is as bad off as he is. 

Ysilla. Worry spears through him, bringing with it a healthy dose of clarity. She breathed in more than he did, he’s sure of it. He needs to get her to a maester, lest she’s already staggered out of her own room in search of aid. 

He stumbles to his wall, finding the familiar crease in the stone and pushing. The path into the tunnels is one he knows well and he’s lucky he does, his mind fogging over and his pulse thumping in his temples. He’s never entered her chamber this way of course, so he can’t be sure when he comes to an unknown stone archway that he’s where he needs to be. 

He pushes until he feels the door give way, a slice of light pouring out through the crack. He edges it forward a little more, until he can see enough of the room to confirm it’s not a servant’s quarters. 

“Niece?” Aemond coughs, his tone gruffer than what he’s used to. His throat is arid, greedy for a nectar to soothe it. No one answers, but as he strains his hearing, shuffling feet and rustling bottles comes forth, confirming that someone is inside. 

“Ysilla?” He calls out. Another jolt of agony flares through him and he gasps, startling forward, catching himself on the door and accidentally making it swing open. Aemond stumbles through, colliding with an overstuffed armchair and making it screech terribly across the floor. His head shoots up, and he catches sight of his niece across the room. 

Ysilla wouldn’tve noticed if Vhagar herself trampled through the door. 

She’s… much more undone than she was before. Her curly raven locks, once pinned up and out of her face, spring madly from her head, cloaking her face in a dark flowing curtain. She scurries around the room, mouselike, pressing a wet rag to her throat and then to her forehead, and back again. Twenty or so books are open and strewn about on the long table, looking as if they were caught in a sweeping wind. Long gone are her slippers, and the sleeved pink gown she donned before is abandoned in a silky puddle by the door.

Her chemise, a pale yellow thing with capped sleeves, has gone transparent from the perspiration that has broken out all over her body. It clings to every dip, every curve, shadowing her in a gauzy golden haze. Her bronze nipples tent through the delicate fabric and the thatch of hair over her womanhood matches in color-

Aemond snaps his gaze away, cheeks flaming. 

“Ysilla.” He nearly shouts, stare finding his boots and staying there. 

The woman in question spins around, catching sight of her uncle in the corner of her room, the hidden door she had never had enough courage to use ajar behind him. 

“Aemond… you need to leave.” Her words rumble out of her, like there’s a beast in her belly, roaring through her skin and rattling her bones. “Leave!”

He doesn’t move and Ysilla hurls the rag in his direction.  

“Did you not hear me? I said go!” 

Annoyance chips away at Aemond’s embarrassment. He’s trying to help her, insufferable brat. “You don’t command me, Niece.” He responds, still refusing to look at her. 

She scoffs, happy to channel her discomfort into a much more satisfying emotion. “You sneak into my room, catch me in the middle of undress, and still, you act put out.” Ysilla spits, her temper raising with her temperature.

Gods, she’s miserable. The moment she stepped foot in her bedchamber, her dressings were off, and she drank down water until she felt the urge to spew. It’s as if she can’t catch her breath- she’s so dizzy and her uncle’s sudden company has somehow made it worse. Her belly cramps, and she crosses her legs tightly in search of relief. She cries out, the budding sultriness in her flower springing to life, and wetness coats her thighs in a rush. Gasping, she nearly trips as she collides with her bed’s edge. 

“Ysilla, breathe.” Aemond commands harshly.

His voice is so nice. Has it always been that nice? That soothing? Her snatch gives a happy thrum, her clit fluttering at the memory of his strong grip upon her arm. How he had held her steady in her dizziness, how he had towered over her, so imposing, so encapsulating, making sure she was well. Ysilla gasps, stunned at her body’s wanton reaction. 

“You don’t understand. Please, go.” He’s her uncle- her uncle that doesn’t even like her. This cannot- will not happen. 

“I need to get you to a maester. If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, if you’re feeling it worse, fuck, Ysilla, I need to get you help.”

He needs to stop saying her name like that, in that breathy, strained tone of his. He sounds exerted. He sounds exhausted. He sounds like he’s on the cusp of falling apart. It stokes the fire in her blood. 

“The things I want to do to you… the things I want you to do to me.” She whines quietly, terrified that he’ll hear her. 

A subtle knock-knock at her chamber door quiets them both, and they hold their breath. Again, a knock-knock echoes through, and Ysilla curses the diligence of her ladies. Aemond goes for it, stalking across the room in his usual strutting gait. 

Ysilla panics and rushes forward, latching onto his arm and pulling him to a stop. 

“Aemond, Uncle, please, send them away. I don’t want them to see me like this.” She begs, pleading with him through a glistening gaze. 

Aemond readies his denial, sharp and bitter on his tongue but he loses his voice as he looks at her. He keeps his eye on her face, hyper aware of the press of her nearly naked figure against his side. Her heart shaped face is drawn in a frantic frown, terror rich and vast in her eyes. She smells of the Essos oils in her hair and the coconut oil on her skin, and it all makes his head go a bit fuzzy. 

She squeezes his arm, again, a final silent plea. He nods his assent. Ysilla dashes behind him, slipping deeper into the room, blowing out candles until the bedchamber dims into darkness. She voices a small, urging hum, and Aemond takes his cue and yanks the door open. The visitor, a girl no older than three-and-ten, blinks at him in surprise.

“My Prince,” she curtsies hurriedly and Aemond nods his acceptance, but his face must spell out his impatience because she speaks so fast, her words stumble over one another. “I thought I heard the Princess in distress. I was coming to check on her, to make sure she’s alright.” 

Her eyes dart over his shoulder, her head bobbing to the side as if she were trying to peek in. Aemond moves with her, raising his arm so that it rests above him in the doorway, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. The maid swallows, dropping her eyes in apology.

“The Princess isn’t well- very sick. Keep the other maids away, guards too. She wishes for solitude.” He’s a pushover and he hates it. One look of Ysilla’s beseeching gaze and Aemond gave like a straw bridge. 

“Should I send a maester?” The maid asks worriedly, making to exit down the hall and find help. 

“No!” The young girl jolts to a stop, her eyes wide with alarm. Aemond curses himself, and he speaks softer through gritted teeth. “No, she just needs rest. I’ll see to her, since I’ve already been exposed. I’ll call upon you if I change my mind.” 

The maid eyes him cautiously, but she finally relents, dropping into a curtsy before hurrying down the wall. 

On the other side of the door, Ysilla feels as if she’s going fucking mental. 

She’s balled up her bedsheet, and wedged it between her quivering thighs. The fabric pressed so intimately against her cunt is unforgiving, soaking up her syrupy slick and giving little in return. But the friction along her clit makes her gasp, and it urges on her rutting in dreams of a release so sweet, she could cry. 

The low droll of Aemond’s voice slithers into her ears from across the room, her mind warping the words until he’s whispering to her. What a good girl she is, how desperate she is to find her pleasure, how angry he is that she’s fucking her bed and not him. Ysilla’s eyes shoot open as she hears the squeak of her door, her hopes crashing as she realizes he’s pulling it shut while he’s behind it, not in front of it. 

She collapses forward onto all fours, fisting the furs blanketing her duvet, smothering a broken moan into the softness. Her eyes peel open, her glassy gaze landing on her bedside table. Aemond’s handkerchief is still there- right where she’d left it- the emerald hue of it glowing midnight green in the candlelight. Suddenly, it’s in her grasp, even though she cannot recall moving for it. She presses it to her nose and draws in a shaky breath.

Oh, oh, it smells of him. Citrus and smoke and she’s drooling for it, mouth watering so quickly she has to swallow it down so she doesn’t slobber. She swings her hips forward before rolling backwards, dredging the sodden sheet through her sex. It’s so wet now, the smoothness almost feels like skin. And that’s too much for Ysilla- she can hear him, smell him, but the thought of Aemond in between her legs?- it sends her plummeting off the cliff of desire, her core pulsing vibrantly, pleasure buzzing through her whole body. 

A phantom hand finds the same spot where Aemond had handled her earlier, and rips her upwards. She’s pulled to her knees, still atop the bed, as someone presses up behind her. Ysilla peers over her shoulder, the handsome face of her uncle a welcome sight. He is an apparition appearing from her thoughts alone. He doesn’t even seem real.

Her thoughts are askew with an edge of delirium, her insides purring at his sudden return. Ghoul or not, she will not squander such a golden opportunity. She fists the front of his shirt and drags him in, their mouths joining together harshly. Aemond would be lying if he said he didn’t kiss her back at once. It gets intense. Fast. 

Ysilla melts into his chest, whimpering into his mouth while his grip goes from her elbow to sliding around her, dragging her in closer by her waist. His tongue finds her teeth and she opens up slowly, letting him feel the threat of them, as he slithers in and their tongues touch-

Aemond tears himself away, stumbling backwards, heaving for air and looking at her with a wide eye. Ysilla whimpers, her fantasy failing her, and she slips off the side of the bed to settle on wobbly legs. Her palm goes to press at her abdomen, hoping that the pressure will relieve the burrowing ache. 

They stare at one another, wild animals on alert, a standoff that neither Prince nor Princess can bear to lose. 

Ysilla’s gaze falls to his lips, and Aemond’s to hers. She bites her lip, sucking the meat into her wet, warm mouth before releasing it with a lurid pop. Aemond groans, an audible surrender. 

To Hell with it all. 

They crash into each other like lightning, hands mapping anywhere they can reach. Her body blooms for him, like a flower under the summer sky. He steers them back towards her bed, Ysilla blindly clamoring atop to sit while he stands tall. His touch on her skin has her thighs spreading, opening up and offering herself for his taking. 

“I can’t stop, I can't stop.” He presses kiss after kiss to her mouth, her closeness doing nothing to extinguish the burning in his blood. If anything, she makes it worse, the inferno raging deeper and into his very soul. 

“I don’t want you to stop.” She whines, snaking their legs together and threading her fingers through that beautiful hair of his.

She’ll enjoy this- him. Every inch of Aemond belongs to her tonight. She thinks of drawing the blade from his hip, and carving her name into his chest. Mark him up nice and neat, streak his pale powdery skin red with her desire. Whatever is happening to her- to them- summons something animalistic, something primitive out of the dark parts of their hearts. All tender fantasies of her future husband treating her with such a tame touch are cleaved in half and fed to the hounds. In their place, filthy, feral desires fester and warp her mind until one lone ambition remains: him inside of her, for the rest of their days.

“We don’t even like each other.” Aemond growls between their parting lips. Ysilla slides her way into his mouth, flirting with the sharpness of his teeth, suckling the sweetness out of his tongue. 

“We can’t stand each other.” She affirms, breaking their lips apart, her hands already under his tunic, letting her palms drink in the ridges and rises of his impressive physique. She kisses along the strong edge of his jaw, curling her fingers into clenched claws and rips her way down his chest. Not a blade, but he bloodys all the same. Aemond snarls, catching her by the throat so brutally her teeth clack. His eye pierces through her like a blade, and Ysilla relishes in the pain, his touch upon her skin soothing away her ache.

“Bitch.” He hisses, what little familial respect they harbor for each other crushed under lust and loathing. 

“Prick.” She bites back, grazing at his lip to send her point home. Gods, he’s so close but not close enough. 

Ysilla pulls his hand between her legs- the one not choking her out- and Aemond cups her sex readily. Her heat damn near blisters him, and he grinds his palm into her slick folds, coating his hand in her arousal.

“Yessss…” She hisses in sated victory, her blood pumping thick as her body finally gets a taste of what it's been craving. Even one finger of his is nearly too much as he slips it in, the stretch a tepid burn that only gives way as her body adjusts. 

“You need to be able to take more than that if you want to take my cock, Princess.” He whispers at her lips, already imagining how tight she’ll be around him. He won’t insult her by asking- he knows he’ll be her first. And the thought of that… of taking her maidenhead for his own, being the first man to be inside of her, searing himself into her memory that even time won’t take away… Aemond has to fucking focus. 

“I can take it.” She assures him, head nodding wildly, her thighs splitting open even further. His grip has loosened around her throat, and he strokes where it’s sure to bruise, trying to not grow hot at the vision of his mark marring her body. He hums his approval, letting his middle finger glide forward, her essence enough to ease the way into her hole. 

He scissors them, back and forth, working her pure channel open gently, basking in the silky tensing of her walls. The pained scrunch in her brow has disappeared, giving way to the pleasured furrow of her forehead, her hips beginning to roll up and meet his digits. She grabs ahold of his wrist, stopping his motions, and she pins him in place with a lavender leer. 

“Take off your clothes.” It’s a command, no matter if it is spoken in her soft honeyed voice. 

Aemond loses his shirt and unlatches his belt, tossing it and his sword onto the bench at the foot of her bed. His breeches slide off with Ysilla’s help, her eager fingers untying his laces. He kicks off his boots, not realizing how confined he felt with so many layers hindering him until his skin is bared. She moves backwards, further up her bed and he crawls after her, prowling like a wildcat, covetous sight trained on her. 

The little minx yanks on his elbow, and he crashes into the mattress and suddenly, he’s the one on his back. Aemond lets Ysilla pin his wrists on either side of him, her victorious smile just as comely as the rest of her. Her breasts pillow against his chest, and dammit, she needs to hover above him so he can catch one in his mouth. But she denies him that treat, squeezing his wrists to focus his attention.  

“Don’t move. That’s an order.” His cock twitches from where it’s pressed to her thigh and her lips twitch at his reaction. She kisses his throat, right at the base where his collar bones meet, and her whisper vibrates through to his heart. “Good boy.” 

Ysilla takes her time, voyaging down his body, a traveler on a sought after journey. Her tongue flicks out over each of his nipples, teasing the perked flesh with little swipes of her slick pink muscle. She traces her nose over the jutting contour of his rib cage, counts his muscled abdominals until there’s numbers on both hands, and kisses the scar on his hip, long healed from a tumble off of Vhagar’s saddle when he was just a boy. The fine silver hair trailing down his groin is wispy and it tickles her chin. 

Aemond’s cock is intimidating, even more so as she takes a lick from root to tip. The journey is longer than first guessed, and she thinks he grows even bigger after the swipe of her tongue, the jut of him swaying in the air as more blood thickens him out. The fact that all of that will be stuffed inside of her makes Ysilla shiver, her cunt yearning for the press of his long fingers. 

Fervently, she swallows him down until he greets the back of her throat. The salt of him is jarring but not unwelcome- nothing can be unwelcome about this as Aemond sucks in a ragged breath and fists the sheets. The muscles in his arms strain and bulge, a sight that only incentivises her to keep sucking. 

He’s a thick, velvety weight on her tongue, her mouth full even with inches still to spare. Her drool dribbles down his staff, and her hand wraps around what she cannot swallow. She glides her lips over his length rhythmically, jacking her fist over the rest of him, retreating with a pop to spit on his tip for more lubrication. 

Ysilla has always been one for sweets but this? This is a taste she can find herself hankering for. She suckles on the head, dipping her tongue into his slit, shivering at the sharp burst of his spunk on her taste buds. She dives forward again, gagging around him, the intrusion into her throat a strange feeling she forces herself to adjust to. 

Aemond keeps her hair pushed behind her ears, his thumbs stroking her temples as he fights to not thrust down her throat until she chokes. A familiar tightening in his sack has him voicing the exact opposite of what he wants her to do. 

“Silla, pull off.” She’s on her fucking knees for him, he doesn’t need to defile her like this. Doesn’t need to treat her like a common whore and make her stomach his load. 

She ignores him and he says her name again, more firmly, but she’s such a rebel, swallowing around him once more, letting him feel the constricting vice of her throat. He can’t take it- he gives her what she wishes. 

“Silla, qrugh.” Cursing, he keeps her head still as he empties his balls and fills her belly. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, breathless, breaking the suction and pulls out of her throat. Ysilla coughs, gulping down air and saliva before she gifts him a shiny smile. Aemond scoffs. Unbelievable. 

“You’re a nasty little thing.” He pants out, a compliment he means wholeheartedly. 

She chuckles hoarsely, and her lips are still gooey with his seed. 

“You love it.” 

The urge to fuck her returns tenfold and he sits up, hand at the back of her neck to wrench her up to his mouth. She whimpers, swapping his cum between their tongues. It’s sticky and vulgar and overwhelmingly erotic. 

Ysilla stumbles to her feet, pulling Aemond with her, leading him to the lounge area in front of her hearth. Their mouths remain intertwined, unwilling to part even for a moment. She pushes him into an armchair, the old velvet soft beneath him before following him down, and settling swiftly in his lap. 

“Off.” He demands but he can’t help but be an active partner in his niece’s undressing. Her hands dash to the hem of her shift, gathering up the skirt hurriedly. His hands glide up her body, caressing the naked skin that is revealed to him as she pulls it up and over her head. She’s so sleek with sweat she looks polished- an apple ready to eat, something to be devoured. 

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond asks, not for lack of knowledge but to see how far she wishes to take this. 

Ysilla grins, ducking down and drawing him into an eager kiss. “Whatever you want to do. Just make me feel good.”

Loyal as a hound, Aemond’s mouth goes to her breast, her posture perfectly presenting her chest to him. He takes in as much as he can, greedily sucking and licking until her tender flesh blushes a bright sticky red. He rolls her pert nipple between his teeth, tugging just enough to make Ysilla gasp. She makes pretty sounds- he can’t wait to hear what she’ll sound like as he fucks her stupid. He switches to her other breast, feasting on her supple bosom like he’ll never eat again. His cock bobs upright, his body needing no time to rest, ready and racing to experience the delicacy of her cunt. 

The Princess whines, combing through his tousled hair, tugging on it like she would horse reins. Such a commanding queen she’ll be. 

“Need it, need you.” She whines, swinging her hips lower, searching for the weeping start of his prick.

“Easy, Ysilla.” He warns, even as his thoughts scream to grip her hips and teach her how to ride him, but she’s such a stubborn little dragon and her thoughts may be just as commanding as his. She leans back, reaching between her thighs until she brushes at the head of his cock and steadies him. Lining herself up, she sinks torturously slow, downdowndown every inch until she sits upon his thighs. 

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh… my.”

They both breathe out, blinking away black stars that dance in their vision, the pollen tapping every nerve ending in each of them until they sputter and fizz uncontrollably. 

The discomfort fades for her faster than she’d thought, transforming into a pleasant fullness that she can feel heavily behind her stomach. Ysilla searches for what feels the best, moving faster and faster on Aemond’s lap as each new shift in position guides her further towards the liquid heat in her loins. She settles on swiveling up before dropping back down onto him, riding him like she’s saddled. Hot streaks of exhilaration engulf her insides, every pass of his cock adding to the ecstasy swirling inside of her. The stretch of him, not just from length but from width as well, itches the scratch left behind after the library disaster. Even as she tried to bring herself to pleasure earlier, there was something missing from her peak. Something that’s building, stacking, soaring fast in her belly. That final crest of a wave, ready to crash and drown anything that’s not pure, hot ecstasy-

Before it collapses back into a tidepool. The pitted feeling of falling through the air as you miss a step in the dark settles over her lust, and she jerks. Ysilla’s eyes snap open, her pupils blown so wide Aemond can barely see a ring of amethyst around them. She whines, bouncing on his cock faster, chasing a release she’s not sure she can find. 

“Qybor, kostilus. I can’t cum like this.” Almost to make her point, she circles her hips up, leaving only the head of him kissed by her tight hole before dropping down and taking every inch of him at once. Aemond holds strong to his stamina, refusing to empty inside of his niece so quickly. 

A shame though, he was so enjoying the view. He winds his arms around her hips, keeping her nice and close as he slips them off of the chair and onto the floor. Several furs keep them cushioned from the chilly stones below and he drags a pillow off the loveseat to ease her up on. 

“Turn for me, sweetling.” He maneuvers her onto her belly, his grip finding her hips and shepherding her into position onto her hands and knees.

Aemond stands corrected- this view is nice. The burnished copper of Ysilla’s coloring clashes deliciously with his own pale complexion. Her backside is plush and hefty, budding from her shape in a way that invites his attention. 

Whatever you want to do. Aemond slaps her right cheek, reveling in her sharp gasp, and the way a perfect red welt appears on the smooth skin. He lands another, on the opposite globe, hypnotized by the jiggle of the flesh. He strikes her again because he can, not ignorant to the way his rough treatment has her absolutely dripping down her thighs. Another for good measure, satisfied in the brilliant bruising he’s left behind.

Just make me feel good. He strokes his cock, still slick from her spit and her honey, and lines his head up at her opening. She arches up, dipping down onto her arms, raising her bottom to prop against him. The angle is too good not to take advantage of. Aemond spits, his foamy white saliva dripping viscously into her tight hole and he pushes it inside of her as he strokes forward. 

Ysilla voices her approval of the new position, wiggling back against him as he goes as deep as she’ll take him. He builds a tempo, in out in out, finding a pace that makes her clench impossibly tighter. His sack slaps intensely at her clit, drawing punchy little gasps out of her that he wants to devour. He digs his fingertips into her hips, thumbs fanning out to stroke the luscious bounce of her bottom. He goes to pause, planning on switching his angle so that some strain can be relieved from her spine.

“No! Aemond, stay there, right there, yessss.” Ysilla flails her hand behind her blindly, not stopping her begging until she smacks into his naked torso. Aemond stares down at his niece in confusion, catching sight of her profile, her eyes trained intently on something that is certainly not him. 

He looks up, and catches his reflection staring back at him from across the room. The giant wardrobe mirror is tucked into the corner, and the Gods are good because they're directly in its path, their coupling on display for their viewing pleasure. 

Aemond drops down, blanketing Ysilla with his body, watching his Other do the same. “Oh, I see.” He chuckles, driving into her slowly. 

It’s almost as if they’re watching someone else- surely the couple in the reflection cannot be them. No poise, no manners, not even an ounce of trepidation to be seen. In place, disheveled, howling, rutting animals grind against each other, naked and insouciant in search of their gratification. Aemond enjoys the portrait they make, admiring it so much that he stalls in his thrusting and stills completely inside of Ysilla.

“Aemond, come on.” She whines, moving impatiently against him. “Nākostōbā taoba, making me do all the work.” She mewls, riding down and humping his cock.

Aemond’s trance snaps, and he secures a fistful of her hair, forcing his niece into a backbend. He ignores her yelp, smacking her thigh to halt her gyrations. His lips go to her ear, and this close to her throat, he can hear the lifeblood rushing through her arteries. 

“What was that?” 

“I just thought, unhhh… just thought you would be a bit more… involved in this.” She giggles, fucking laughs even as her bones creak for mercy. It’s harder to breathe this way, and the lightheadedness spurs on her mouth. “Thought you wanted this as badly as I did.” 

Little fucking brat. He laughs too, because it’s funny. Funny because of how right she is- he should be more involved in this, a bit more committed. Ysilla stills at the sound, the audible swallow of her gulping nervously has his cock jumping in interest. Her fear is just as tasty as her willingness. 

He crosses both arms over her chest, his forearms thick bars over her throat and he forces her up, so he can fuck his cock into her belly and watch her tits bounce as he does so. Ysilla’s face contorts into a euphoric mask, her eyes rolling back into her head and her pouty mouth hanging open in slack-jawed pleasure as he pounds her ruthlessly.

“Something on your mind, Princess?” She doesn’t respond, her brain being fucked straight out of her head.

Aemond slaps her face, the sharp crack bringing her back to the present, and back to Aemond fucking her like he owns her. She moans again, her pussy spouting a wash of arousal around his bullying cock. He catches her by the jaw, digging his thumb into the bone and rubbing at the struck flesh of her cheek. His lips are wet at her ear, and she watches him through glossy eyes as he smirks, and bites down on her ear lobe. 

“Answer me, Ysilla.” His niece shouts but Aemond has no sympathy for her. If she can dish it out, she can take it. “You did want this? Or you do want this?” 

He’s searching for the willpower to pull out of her, and put her over his knee to send home his message when she babbles out her acquiescence.

“I want this! Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao!” Valyrian braids through her words without forethought, her focus aimed on Aemond’s cockhead tapping at her womb. 

“Sȳz riña.” She preens at the endearment, throwing her hips back against him frantically. A beautiful toothy smile has broken brightly over her face, Aemond catching sight of it in the mirror before he shatters the grin, nailing a spongy spot inside of her that makes her eyes cross.

“Sooo good, so fucking big, feel you right here.” She tries to gesture to her throat but she ends up digging her nails into the arms caging her in, hanging off of him desperately. Her poor battered cunny is still somehow famished for more, the squelch of his cock moving in and out of her a licentious lyric that lulls both lover’s into a trance. Aemond pulls her even tighter to his front, however possible that may be, and plunges repeatedly into her snug cunt, beating the walls of her swollen so she won’t be able to walk without thinking of him first. 

As if they miss each other, Aemond’s and Ysilla’s eyes meet in the mirror, violent violet and silver steel clashing and melding into one harmonious color. 

Their stares fall lower, where they meet over and over and over again so brutally. Her thighs glisten in the candlelight, her flesh rippling with every thwack of Aemond’s hips. It’s so dirty, so primal, so right. He’s going so deep, he could put a babe in her belly. Just a whisper of that fantasy, of her giving him a child, letting him have such a claim on her breaks her apart. 

She screams, Aemond’s palm smacking over her mouth as her thighs give out, and she sags to the floor. He follows her down, draping himself over her back, still fucking her in earnest, chasing his own blissful breaking point. He finds it, after three more punishing thrusts. But even as his balls release and he feels Ysilla grow slicker as his seed coats her insides until it leaks a white ring from where they’re joined, his cock is still hard and heaving from his body. 

He pulls out and Ysilla sobs at the loss, scrambling on the furs, but her cries disintegrate as she’s flipped onto her back. Aemond slings both of her legs into the crooks of his elbows, yanking her forward so he’s flush to her thighs, her pussy a pretty little jewel winking up at him. His seed oozes a pearl stream from her fluttering hole and he swipes it up with his cock, and it’s as slippery as oil as he bottoms out inside of her. 

Fucking Seven, she’s unreal. “Taking every inch of me… like you were made for this, ñuha pretty līve.”

“Made for you, I think.” Ysilla gasps, ripping at the furs, trying to anchor herself down so she doesn’t burst apart. 

Aemond nips at her chin, doing nothing to quell the smug smile on his niece’s lips. “Careful.” 

Careful for what? She wants to question so badly. Careful on what she voices aloud, even as they speak it in both of their minds? Careful on implying that her cunt will not weep for him anytime he passes by her? Careful to claim that the only place he should be after tonight is right where he is now?

But it is not the time for words of the heart, so she digs her nails into Aemond’s broad shoulders in a gnaw and throws her head back. 

“I’m right there. Yes, Aemond, yes!” 

Oh, is she now? Aemond grins, slowing his thrusts to purposefully watch her eyes shoot open incredulously. 

“Don’t stop! Fuck, why are you stopping?” Ysilla growls, circling her hips up against him, doing her best to fuck him herself. So desperate, so full of unadulterated desire, she cannot find it within herself to be appalled at her own salaciousness. 

“I thought you couldn’t cum like this?” Aemond mocks and oh, it’s fun to play with her. 

Her decorum deserting her, Ysilla lets anger lead her movements and her hand flies at his face to strike him. He catches her easily, still smiling that infuriatingly sexy smirk, and drops a modest kiss on the heel of her palm. She melts, her love bitten lips pouting dramatically. 

“Aemond, ñuha zaldrīzes, please.” He likes when she begs- she can see it in the way his jaw ticks, how his skin flushes, as if his body alights in her prayers to him. Aemond won’t acknowledge it, but somewhere deep in his chest, she’s already wormed her way in. He splits her in half, leaning over her until he can rest his palms by her shoulders, her legs still draped over each of his arms. 

He drags himself out, inch after inch, agonizingly slow before he lurches forward, making her pussy swallow his entire cock. He groans, finding himself burrowed in the valley of her breasts, letting his hips pummel her in an amorous hammering. 

“Scream for me, love.” 

She doesn’t need to be told twice- her lungs finding the air to blurt out,

“Aemond, fucking hell!”

Ysilla goes limp, her thighs butterflying open, giving him full reign to dictate her pleasure. She squirts, a wet spray soaking his abdomen that puddles beneath them. Her whole body heaves, appearing almost pained in euphoria. She’s a holy vision. 

Fuck, he’s losing his mind. “Do that again.” He demands. 

He cups the back of her neck, propping her up until they’re eye to eye. Ysilla’s are lidded, exhaustion heavy weights upon them, but she manages a tiny nod and curves herself upwards for his continued onslaught. 

Completely at his mercy, his to control, Aemond takes full advantage. Dragging her down by the back of her neck, he plunges himself brutally inside of her cunt over and over, again and again. She lies there and takes it like a good girl, witnessing her uncle destroy her in the name of desire until he grants her mercy, and he strokes her pearl with the sharp edge of his thumbnail and she blacks out.

He chokes, sparks shimmering in and out of his vision as she convulses around his cock. He pulls out of her, spurting striping streaks of white onto her belly. He cums so hard, it splashes over her tits and even pools in the hollow of her throat. 

Ysilla moans, coming to, rubbing her fingers over the soiled skin of her stomach, blending their releases together in a filthy film that coats her fingers. She pops one in her mouth, and relishes in the blossoming light brightening once more in Aemond’s lone eye.  

And just as quickly as their relief had come, the satisfaction fizzles out and ravenous blood boiling need takes root once more. 

They groan, barely taking time to catch their breath before they’re on each other again. Their mouths are sloppy, leaving trails of saliva down to their chins and along their throats. Ysilla finds a spot she likes over his pulse point and suckles, her left leg wound tight over his hip, rubbing herself off along the unyielding ridge of the bone. Aemond kneads her arse, an apology for his abuse, rolling the voluptuous flesh in his calloused grip all the while dipping his fingertips in and out of her weeping slit.

They tangle in each other’s webs, so caught up in salt and sin that they don’t realize they’re off the rugs and across the floor until the frigid chill rushes through them. 

It’s uncomfortable- their knees will be bruised by the morrow, scrapes along their backs will sting while in the bath, and a crick won’t leave Ysilla’s neck for half a moon. But the stone cools their overheated skin and together is where they still want to be, so all else falls to the wayside. 

Their mouths have drawn back to each other, Ysilla’s tongue dancing over his back teeth and the roof of his mouth, mapping a place she can only dream of revisiting after tonight. Aemond pulls away and Ysilla’s teeth in his bottom lip scold him for his interruption. He smirks, giving her a departing peck to soothe her sour mood. 

“I need to meet her properly, Princess.” He says with an uncharacteristic amount of mirth, leaning her back as he dips down to her lower body. 

Ysilla is bone-weary and dehydrated, but even she knows that doesn’t make any sense. She cocks her head in confusion, watching him as he settles on his front, his face so close to her center, the hot damp of his breath makes her quiver. 

“Who is her- oh! Oh, Seven Hells, Aemond, fucking please-”

Aemond eats her with a fervor she’s never known, a man starved before being offered the bounty between her legs. Shrill gasps and pitched moans are sounds she thought herself incapable of making, but they sing aloud, her walls stowing them in their stones. 

Her thighs are tight around his head, but the cushioned flesh does nothing to block out her calls of ecstasy. Music to his fucking ears, he slurps, undignified and ravenous, the parched dryness in his throat at last quenched as he swallows down Ysilla’s honey. No wine, no water could ever satisfy him like she does. 

She thrashes about on the unforgiving stone, her nails clawing at the ground so harshly that they chip. He’s sending her into madness, unrelenting in his licking even as she kicks at his sides. She’s too sensitive, it’s too much. 

And then, the realization that he is not only lapping up her arousal but his as well, zings up her spine and has her gushing all over his tongue. 

She can’t control herself anymore. Her worries have faded into nothingness as the night has gone on, as she had bounced on Aemond’s cock and came into his mouth and he into hers, and they’ve drank down one another’s spit and sweat and sex. She’s whimpering and whining, squeaky sounds with no words, only what her voice is capable of making. The pathetic, needy gasps draw Aemond’s attention immediately. He rises, hovering over her, pulling up her knees to frame his hips. He slides himself home, not being able to breathe until he bottoms out, fully planted inside of her. 

She whimpers louder as he faces her, the effects of the potion hitting their last peak. 

“Let me see you. Let me see you.” Ysilla begs, distraught that there’s still something keeping them apart. They should be bare- exposed and raw and free. They’ve already come this far- it’s all or nothing. 

Even with her few words, Aemond understands her completely. He doesn’t give himself time to think, time to let self-consciousness tear and twist him up as he rips off his eyepatch. 

Ysilla sees him- truly sees him- his scar, the jagged split of his brow, the brilliant blue sapphire twinkling a wink at her as it glitters in the low light.  

“You’re so handsome.” And then she cries- big, fat, bulbous tears that spill from the corner of her eyes and streak over her cheeks. 

Aemond wants to comfort her, shush her and stroke her hair. Do all the things he should do with a lover that’s not only a lover, but his kin as well. A sweet girl he remembers always drawing for him on his nameday, sketching pictures of fearsome dragons. And as the years dragged on, they continued to evolve, growing fiercer and more detailed and she would always say the same thing when she gifted it to him: “this year, Uncle, this year you’ll find your match, I know it.” And here he is now, the Queen of the Skies his dragon, as if Ysilla herself had manifested it to life. 

But that was so long ago now that it seems a different lifetime, and Aemond realizes he doesn’t really know his niece. He doesn’t know what she likes and what she doesn’t, and that worries him more than he’s comfortable with. 

“Can’t... take… much… more.” She gulps down a breath after each word. Aemond’s thrusts push so deeply into her guts, that there now seems to be no room for her lungs. He hums, the vibration tickling where they’re pressed chest-to-chest. 

“Yes you can, jorrāelagon. You’ve done so well, taken everything I’ve given you. You’ve made me so proud, sweet girl.” He may not know how to soothe her, but Aemond has a knack for telling someone just what they need to hear. Only with Ysilla, he speaks no falsehoods. He whispers his admiration in her ear, keeping her close by a hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to listen to all of his praises, all the while snaking his hand down between them to pinch at her pearl. 

Small hiccuping gasps couple with her agonized moans; the pride, the pleasure, the pain, all of it an elixir he drinks down his throat as she connects their lips once more, a soft tremble in hers that he soothes with his tongue. They cum together, less intense than their lasts, but still just as satisfying. Aemond spills inside of her, her silken walls milking him for every drop in his fucked out cock. He moans, long and loud into her neck and she peppers his cheek with kisses, her breathing heavy. He collapses, further down on her body so he doesn’t constrict her chest. 

The evening tempo of her breathing beneath his cheek has Aemond focusing on his own, and the two spent lovers take a much needed break to collect themselves. 

Tremors still shake her thighs, the creamy fawn flesh jumping from overstimulation. Aemond presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, a sweet assurance of relief hopefully not far behind their releases. She pets his hair, no energy left to even raise her head. He rises back up to look upon her face, wiping away a stray tear from her lash. She nuzzles into his hand and it all finally feels like enough. 

Until it isn’t. Until the lust fills them up once more, water in a pail, and it overflows and sloshes thickly in their bellies until they’re sick with it. 

Ysilla sobs brokenly, exhausted and at her wits end. Aemond shudders for breath, the pain in his stones throbbing incessantly for relief. They’ll lose their minds if they keep going- chasing an endgame that is unattainable. 

Aemond digs deep, attempting to collect himself and become the man Ysilla needs him to be. He tucks her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles behind him, and rises up to his feet with her draped around him. 

He carries them both on shaky legs, drifting along the wall for support until he rounds the corner to her privy. The golden casted tub is filled halfway with what was once steaming, boiled water but has now grown cool. He swings a leg over the edge, trying not to collapse, Ysilla still wrapped around him like a second skin and settles them both into the pool.

The Princess crumbles, falling to pieces as they’re engulfed by the water. Her heartbeat still thrums from between her legs, her nipples scraping at Aemond’s chest for attention, as if he had not lauded them with his tongue until they were bruised and sore. The undying urge to mate is at her throat, its teeth gnashing at her veins and claws piercing her hips, ushering her to fucklicksuckfuck again and again and again until her brain would be lost to the lust. 

But her body is done- every muscle expended, every limb weighted, every bone crushed to nothing but dust. All she can manage to do is whimper softly from where she’s pressed into her lover’s chest. 

Aemond cups her face, raising her up so that he can look upon her. She’s a sculpture of desire: lips puffy and rubbed red, cheeks flushed, eyes teared and heavy. He did this to her. 

“One more, love. One more and then we’ll stop.” He promises, the need too heavy in his cock, thickening his member until it lies straight up against her stomach. 

She nods stiffly, spreading her thighs until they mirror his hips. He taps the head of himself at her entrance, a gentleman waiting for the lady to make the first move. He doesn’t have to wait long, Ysilla pushing forward and taking his cock in full until their bellies rest flat against each other. She’s as tight as the first time, and the stretch is not lost on her either, her groan equal parts pained and pleased. 

Aemond’s hands are worshiping as he trails down the elegant column of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the bloom of her breast, until he finds the small of her back and hugs her tight. They just dance, slow and steady, rolling their hips together, the water shifting with their union. They rest their foreheads against one another, eyes closed and noses brushing.

Aemond isn’t sure who leans in first- he thinks it may have been him but Ysilla will say the opposite. Their mouths slot together, innocent and vestal and it’s so much less eager than the times before, but it makes it all the more intimate. He moans weakly and she coos, her hands coming to cradle his face, the breaths they share one in the same. Somehow, it’s as if this exposes them more to each other than being joined so sensuously. A simple press of their lips, doing more for them than a thousand slippery tongues or nimble fingers. 

A gentle wash of pleasure, one that raises goosebumps along their arms and makes their breaths hitch is all that they get and then suddenly, finally, the call for gratification quiets and all prince and princess are left with is the drip of water off the edge of the tub. Ysilla sighs heavily, sounding every bit thankful and spent. Aemond takes a breath that feels like his first, and he sags against the resistance at his back. 

Everything is still, weariness seeping into them like ink to parchment. Aemond thinks he could doze off right here, Ysilla a comforting weight atop of him, his manhood still nestled in her center. 

Her palm is gentle on his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a tender sweep that stirs his eyelid to open. She’s beautiful, even in her enervation and he lets himself savor this moment. The world has paused for them, and it will not go on unless they will it to. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She whispers, afraid to shatter the silence. A final brush of her thumb over his bottom lip, softer than a feather, is her parting gift. She unseats herself from him, and even if she’s the one who wants to leave, her cunt does not agree. Her walls grasp at every ridge and vein of his prick, a caress goodbye until at last they part. Ysilla floats backwards, away from him, and the fact that he has an urge to catch her wrist and pull her back until she’s closer than skin terrifies him. 

She curls into a ball at the other side of the tub, an ocean away, and brings her knees to tuck under her chin. She stares at him unflinchingly and he stares back, tiredness glazing over them both. 

Aemond sighs deeply. One of them has to be the first to depart and since his quarters are on the other side of the castle, he begrudges that it is him who will have to make an exit. 

“I should go.”

Ysilla’s face is serene, every drop of willpower left in her battling the urge to slip beneath the water and fade away. She nods, a wooden lift and fall of her head.

“I think that’s best… I’m sure the whole castle knows what we’ve been up to.” 

Why her response stings, he won’t let himself dwell over. Nothing’s changed (everything has changed), they will soon return to their routines and carry on with their lives (neither one of them will be able to think of anything else but each other for the better part of a year). He rises from the water, stepping out and over the tub, reaching for a linen to at least try and make himself decent. 

It is she who catches his wrist in reality, her thin fingers looping over the bones until she surrounds him like shackles. 

“But… maybe…” Her eyes traverse their way down his body, revisiting the spots she had tasted, had bitten, had sucked. Her tongue snakes out, wetting her swollen flesh and he has to think of the night he lost his eye, the stench of manure, anything to keep the blood from rushing to his spent cock. 

“Gods, Aemond, what’s one more bad decision tonight?” She’s not looking for an answer, not out loud, looking deep into his eye instead. Searching for an understanding she’s not sure is there. 

“Stay? With me?” Even after all the carnal ways they’ve explored each other, it’s those three pleading words that send Ysilla’s heart galloping in her chest as she voices them. 

He stares at her, unanswering and still, and dread creeps up her neck in a cold chill. 

“Your chamber is a mess. We both need to eat and drink something other than wine. Not to mention sleep.” Aemond states stonily. Ysilla swallows passed the knot in her throat, sinking deeper into the water. Her fingers release him and she drifts away, in both body and mind. 

Aemond catches her fingers, and he threads his through hers like they’re meant to be there. He rubs small, soothing circles about her knuckles, and he brings them to his mouth on pure instinct, and presses a chaste kiss to the bones. 

“So I best bring you to my room then, to make sure all of that happens, no?” 

Aemond smiles first before Ysilla returns it widely. Hers is the sun appearing from behind a cloud, warmth bathing him, and welcoming him home. 

.

.

.

qrugh . shit

Qybor, kostilus . Uncle, please

Nākostōbā taoba . Weak boy

(I want this!) Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao! . This, this, this, fuck, I do I do. I want you, Gods, I want you!

Sȳz riña . Good girl

ñuha pretty līve . my pretty whore 

ñuha zaldrīzes . my dragon

Jorrāelagon . love

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 22 - Forced Orgasm

pairing: dom!Natasha x sub!Reader

summary: Natasha forces you to spill your secrets, and your cum.

content warnings: lowkey kidnapping, interrogation, handjob, reader has a penis

word count: 1.1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“God, you look pathetic.” 

Rolling your eyes at the words, you glare at Natasha as she circles you. You would speak, but the well-trained spy had gagged you hours ago. Apparently, she’d grown tired of your ‘smart mouth’, so here you were. 

When you’d signed up to work for your boss, you’d never expected to be interrogated by the Black Widow. Evidently, your boss had been running some super illegal underground operation (you truly had no idea what was going on), and you’d just so happened to be in the office when Natasha had broken in to steal some files. 

She also stole you, forcing you into her car after tying your hands up in the name of gaining more information directly from the company’s employees. You wondered if you could sue the Avengers for kidnapping. 

You wouldn’t say you were particularly… unhappy with how the day was going. After all, you’re on your knees with a gag stuck in your mouth, your clothes having been ripped off by the hottest woman you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d gotten hard during the car ride and it still hadn’t gone down, not even after Natasha had secured a spreader bar between your thighs to keep your legs apart and restrained your hands to the wall behind you. 

Dark green eyes lock with yours as Natasha slowly bends down and crutches in front of you. Your chest is heaving slightly, and you can feel yourself twitch as she raises a single eyebrow. 

“What were you doing at work on a Saturday?” Natasha asks, her eyes glancing down at the way your cock jumps to the sound of her raspy voice. 

“Mmmpphh,” you say, your shoulders sagging slightly at the way her smirk widens. You feel so helpless… fuck, your cock throbbed again at that thought. 

Natasha smiles wider, her hands slowly coming up to caress your thighs, her sharp nails digging into your skin. You look down and watch with her as your cock throbs and twitches as she leaves angry red lines on your skin. You can see the swollen, red tip leaking precum as it jerks, and you resist the urge to thrust your hips forward. 

“You like this, don’t you?” she mutters, her smile wide as you nod. A pathetic whimper escapes you, the sound high-pitched as her hands slowly move from your thighs and toward your hips. 

“Will you answer my questions?”

You almost nod, but then your brain starts working. If you answer her questions, she’ll probably just leave you, unsatisfied and rock hard, as soon as she gets what she wants. 

Shaking your head no, you glare at her defiantly. Her brows furrow, those green eyes narrowing dangerously. Her fingers dig into your hips, and you let out a faint whimper at the pain, your hips rutting forward slightly. 

“Fine, let’s see if you can handle a bit of persuasion,” she growls, her hand finally wrapping around your length. 

God, it feels so fucking good. She’s moving her hand slowly, her other reaching for a bottle of oil. 

Wait. Oil?

Natasha flips the lid open, drizzling the warm body oil directly on top of your cock before pumping her hand to evenly distribute it. You let out a moan, your eyes bulging at the sensation. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asks, her eyes watching your reactions. You nod eagerly, wanting to thrust your hips, the spreader bar stopping much movement. Her hand moves faster, her grip tightening when she reaches the head of your cock, squeezing it. 

The pressure builds within you, and you’re gasping into the gag as you let out a series of moans. Natasha’s hand doesn’t stop, her fingers wrapped firmly around you as she pushes you towards the brink. 

“Wanna talk now?” she asks, her other hand coming up to tangle with your hair. She wrenches your head up, exposing your neck and forcing eye contact. You shake your head, your breaths shuddering as your chest heaves. 

You’ve never felt this much pleasure before, your cock being expertly handled while you’re unable to do anything about it. After this, you doubt you’ll ever be able to feel true pleasure unless you’re bound and helpless. You can quite literally feel the kink planting itself inside of you, and you let out a pathetic little whimper when her hand moves faster. 

Natasha jerks her thumb over the head of your cock, the body oil and your precum mixing together as you moan and hold back a sob. You’re so fucking sensitive. 

“You don’t wanna cooperate? Fine,” Natasha spits, her hand moving even faster as she squeezes hard. You nearly cum right then and there, but her other hand reaches down and grabs your ball, holding them tightly in her hand and preventing you from orgasming. “Let's see if I can break your will.”

You shake your head, feeling your muscles clench desperately. You hold back your orgasm, not wanting the fun to end. Your eyes water slightly, the pleasure overwhelming as her hand pumps your cock faster. 

“You’re going to cum whether you want to or not,” Natasha growls, her hand moving faster. You groan, and she bites into your neck before murmuring, “Don’t hold back.”

Her fingers release your balls, and they tighten up immediately. You can feel the waves of pleasure becoming all-consuming, the need to cum taking over your brain. Her hand squeezes your cock as she pumps, pleasure emanating from your cock as you feel your orgasm take over. 

Her thumb swipes over the head of your cock, and you explode, spurts of cum covering her hand and part of her thighs. You throw your head back as much as your restraints will allow, your muscles flexing as you moan. The pleasure is all-consuming, her hand working you through your orgasm as you groan and shudder, your arms painfully pulling at your restraints as you gasp. 

Your cock starts to go limp, her fingers squeezing out the last bits of cum as you shudder. She continues to slowly jerk your cock, her movement lazy as she watches you. 

“Will you tell me what you know?”

You nod, your eyes glazed as your body trembles and protests against more pleasure. The traitorous cock between your legs twitches again, already hardening under her touch. 

Natasha rips your gag off, her eyes lighting up as she takes in your tired form. She’s finally broken you down, and she can’t wait for you to spill all of your secrets. Her fingers curl under your chin, forcing you to look at her as you finally speak. 

You smile. 

“I’m just the intern.”

Art by me: do not repost

[spitgobbler]

BunnyOwner!Leon <3

just a bunch of blurbs and thoughts I’ve had about Leon owning a bunny hybrid hehe also my first work on here :)

pairing: fem reader x leon kennedy

tags: bunny hybrid, heat, oral sex, p in v, praise, mention of belly bulge, creampie, breeding

Owner!Leon who’s seen so much shit and decides to go down to the centre and adopt a hybrid companion so he isn’t as lonely. looking at all the cute hybrids from puppies to cats but then he stops at one particular kennel.

Owner!Leon who can’t stop looking at your long floppy bunny ears that he’s already wanting to touch with his warm calloused hands, and your pretty little cotton tail that twitches once you notice him.

Owner!Leon who approaches carefully, being mindful of your bunny nature as he gets to know you a bit more. as soon as you permit him to pet your fluffy ears he thinks to himself how petting and playing with them would be a perfect way to wind down after a long day of work.

Owner!Leon who signs the adoption papers after getting to know your sweet and gentle nature over the course of the week, it’s just what he needed in his cold and dark line of work.

and he enjoys coming home to a no longer empty house, you laying across his lap while he pets your floppy ears and unwinds with you. feeding you strawberries as a snack before a proper dinner while he listens to you chat about your day and what you did while he was gone.

Owner!Leon who glances at your lips and the way you lick the sweet red juice from the strawberries off of them, he feels the urge to kiss them. but he doesn’t. he’s your owner and he shouldn’t do that sort of thing with his precious lil bunny girl.

Owner!Leon who feel conflicted when he comes home one day and his bunny is in heat, humping her pillow desperately as she whimpers for desperate release. his cock stirring in his trousers as he tries to remember what the centre advised him to do when this happens but it’s hard to think with the way his eyes watch your fluffy bun ears flop with each hump of your hips. he just wants to tug them, just a little.

“bun, are you okay?” leon asks, sliding his boots off and moving to your side. “you look- let me call the centre and ask them how to help.”

you whine for him, “o-owner, no. my heat, need you.”

Owner!Leon who swallows thickly at the way your needy voice expresses your desire for him while you rub your messy cunt against your pillow. his dick hardening in his trousers as he wants to help but a part of him is hesitant. you were his slice of paradise, would doing this change things?

“baby, i think the center gave you some toys for your heat, let me go find them.” he murmurs before caressing your floppy ears. “i shouldn’t.”

“no! need owner to breed me,” you plead, eyes glazed over with need.

Owner!Leon who groans at your words, your pretty voice and words tying a knot of arousal in his abdomen. he can’t help but pick you up in his strong arms and laying you down onto his bed.

Owner!Leon who spreads your smooth thighs out for him, his tongue lapping at your weeping cunt and teasing your folds with a hum. your pretty pussy so sweet for him that he palms himself for even a sliver of relief.

Owner!Leon who lets you take what you want, what you need. letting you grip his locks and grind against his face, his nose nudging against your clit, making you sing so lewdly for him.

“that’s it, pretty girl.” he murmurs, his tongue guiding you through your orgasm while he holds your hips down. “so good for me, bunny.”

“m’coming! o-oh!” you moan and try bucking against his face as your eyes roll, gushing all over your generous owner’s face as he drinks it up with a low moan of his own. “thank you, thank you owner,”

he presses kisses to your folds before pulling away and caging your form underneath his, capturing your lips that he’s been dying for in a hot, heavy kiss. you moan as you taste yourself on him, gripping his strong shoulders as you soak in all the love and pleasure your owner is giving you.

Owner!Leon who listens to your pleas for more, teasing your messy slit with the tip of his fat cock before sliding in with a heavy groan from the squeeze. his brows furrowing from the pleasurable fit before thrusting his hips into you slowly before picking up to a toe curling pace.

“feels good owner,” you mewl out, writhing underneath him. “so deep, s’good.”

he caressed your face with one of his hands as he pumped into you over and over. “uh huh, anything for my pretty bunny, mm, fuck.”

Owner!Leon who flips you over and fucks you so good into the mattress. his hands tugging your floppy bunny ears as he thrusts harder and deeper into your needy little cunt from behind, making you clench the sheets and moan. groaning at the tight grip of your sloppy bunny pussy, his hands occasionally moving from your ears to your round lil cotton tail and teasing the base.

Owner!Leon who might as well also be a bunny hybrid with the way he spills his milky cum so many times into you till it’s giving you the cutest little bulge in your tummy. breeding you over and over, he rocks his fat tip into your sweet spot till your heat is over and you’re both spent. no matter how tired he was, he would be a bad owner if he didn’t help his precious bunny through her heat, wouldn’t he?

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - pt II

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: toxic!paige, language, some sexual thoughts but no smut in this one (sorry guys), paige is an asshole fr

Wordcount: 4.9k (sorry)

A/N: i got so much love and so many people asking for more after the first part <3 ty all i'm so grateful! this will likely be around 7 parts so please buckle up lol. ALSO I'M SORRY FOR NO SMUT but let me cook guys it'll get good. the point of this part is to get inside paige's head and understand why she is the way she is, things will speed up in the next part i swear. OK GO READ ILYSM MWAH

-

It’s hard being Paige Bueckers. Not every 23-year-old had to deal with the kind of pressure I did. Most of the time it felt like the whole world was watching me, waiting for me to fail. It used to bother the shit out of me but after all the injuries, everything I’ve been through, I thrived on it. I knew I would prove them wrong - prove that I’m great, that I’m me. Just like my dad would tell me, over and over again. I knew I was great, so greatness was expected. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t come with a great deal of pressure. I always said pressure is a privilege. But sometimes when I lay in bed alone after a game, even a win, the pressure consumed me. I didn’t like to be alone. So I went around different girls’ beds, like they meant nothing. Because they didn’t - they were just a distraction from my own mind. Like I said, it’s hard being Paige Bueckers - hard being me.

“You okay babe?”

I’m shaken out of my thoughts, returning back to earth, back to the small bed I was lying in. The brunette next to me nuzzles her nose into my arm, watching me with that look I knew too well. Like she wanted something from me. I hated when girls looked at me like that.

I clear my throat, trying not to flinch as she wraps her arm around me. “Yeah Zoe, ‘m fine,” I murmur, letting her press herself to my side, her body sticky from our prior activities. Zoe was a cuddler, so she was usually last on my roster. It’s hard to plan your escape when a girl clings to you like a koala and worst of all, wants to sleep like that all night. I never got that, cuddling while sleeping. It gets hot, sweaty and cramped, I find it hard to believe anyone actually enjoys it. People just think they do because they’re in love or something. And I can’t afford to be in love. I had a natty to win.

Zoe’s slender finger brushes through my blonde hair and I can feel that claustrophobic, uncomfortable tightness inside me. Like I had to get out. Her dorm was dim and the air was heavy and slightly humid from the second round I had insisted on. The sheets stuck to my skin uncomfortably and her bed made this annoying sound everytime I moved or even breathed.

I turn my gaze to Zoe who’s looking at me, all googly eyed. Oh God. She smiles wide and presses a kiss to my cheek. The scent of her shampoo lingers in the air, the smell of banana and some kind of citrus. I had never liked banana scented things.

“Uh, anyway that was fun,” I mumble, and sit up on the bed, forcing her off me as gently as I could. “But I got practice early,” I add, reaching for my t-shirt and throwing it on.

I don’t notice the offended look on Zoe’s face. I grab my phone from the floor, checking my texts urgently.

Yo you tryna do a lil sum tonight?

I know ur not workin sooo we could have a lil fun like we did the other day

Valerie?

I sigh, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten as I stare at the read receipt underneath the texts. I tap on the back of my phone case impatiently, wondering if sending a fourth text would make me pathetic. Maybe I should just call her? Nah, I must be trippin.

Since I met her at Ted’s, Valerie was the first I called when being in my bed alone was tearing up my mind. But it didn’t mean anything, she was good in bed, good at making me forget who I was when I needed to. Also, I liked how she smelled, like coconut. And when she tangled her legs with mine I didn’t shutter or pull away. Sometimes I even wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into me. Not because I needed her. But because her body felt good against mine.

“Aw baby really?” Zoe whines in an overtly soft voice, wrapping the blanket around her as she scoots up on the bed. Her plump bottom lip, swollen from the rough kissing earlier turns into a pout. I quickly avoid her gaze, my eyes landing right onto the floor looking for my pants. “I wanted to cuddle.” Figures.

“I know baby, me too,” a lie, she would never know that though. “Can’t keep my hands off you if I stay tho and I need some sleep.” I lie more, never looking at her. She buys it though, like she does every time. It’s not like I liked to lie, but I also didn’t like disappointing people. Especially girls that looked at me like that. It would kill her to know I texted three girls after Valerie didn’t answer, and the only reason I was here was because Zoe was the fastest to reply..

I leave Zoe like that, naked in bed, pleading with her eyes. Sometimes I felt bad, because I could tell she really liked me. But then I remembered how hard it is to be Paige Bueckers, and I didn’t feel so bad. My job was to be great on the court. Everything else was just background noise.

-

I sit by the court, my chest heaving, throwing my head back to down some water. The squeaking of sneakers echo all around me, blending in with the sound of Geno’s voice screaming at some of the girls working on plays. Coach had been killing us today, not happy with how the last game had went. We had still won, but that was merely a reason to celebrate in his eyes. 

All day I’d been missing shots that should’ve been child’s play for me. I couldn’t help but beat myself up. I was distracted, unfocused. I had been killing myself on the court, hoping it would bring me to my senses. Geno had been the one to tap me on the shoulder and force me to take a break I wipe the sweat off my face into the inside of my shirt, and grab my phone.

Bro are u alive?

I’m gettin worried lowkey

i’m fine paige

Five days. For five days Valerie hadn’t texted me back anything but that. I clench my jaw in frustration, shaking my head to myself. It made no sense to me - yeah we had a falling out but that’s what we did. We bickered and then we kissed and made up, and that’s what we had been doing for months so why was she acting like this now? Well… maybe calling her a psycho bitch last week hadn’t been the best move on my part.

I don’t know why the things she did bothered me so much. When she didn’t laugh at my joke, when she didn’t answer my texts. I don’t know why I felt a constant nervousness swirl inside me when she was mad at me, I had no reason to care. I guess the pussy was just that good, it was tricking me into thinking I did.

“Va-le-r- oh that’s the girl from Ted’s!” KK slams her hands on my shoulders, coming up from behind me, peeping at my phone screen. In a panic, I lock my phone, hiding it from her view.

“Bro, you heard of privacy?” I complain, shoving her playfully as she sits next to me on the ground. KK snickers, her nose scrunching a little as she does. 

“Not since you started peeing with the door open,” the shorter girl next to me argues and I scoff loudly, my mouth wide open.

“One time! And I was drunk!!” I groan, my voice rising a little and eyes going wide. CD quickly turns around and shushes us, shaking her head. Me and KK quickly shut our mouths, my cheeks turning a little red from the scolding.

KK looks at me with raised brows, and then at the phone, and then at me again. Most of the team knew how I kept myself busy when I wasn’t training, but KK was the one who had joined me those countless times at Ted’s and sat with me at the corner table as I watched her. Valerie. There was something so intriguing about her I just had to keep coming back. I always thought once I’d get her to my bed and have my way with her, I’d be done with her, which is how it usually goes. Before I realised that one time turned into five, which turned into me being in her bed getting her right, not even caring about my own most of the time. Getting her off got me off. Just thinking about the way she looked when she came, the way her back arched, her perfect mouth fell open - I really had to stop thinking about her. Why was it so goddamn hard?

It won’t be hard to find another Valerie if she’s gonna keep this difficult act up.

“Girl trouble?” KK asks, her tone more genuine and I roll my eyes, looking at her sideways.

“Yea right,” I chuckle sarcastically, leaning my elbows to my knees. “Just need to find a new one is all.”

KK lets out a small laugh, sipping her water bottle. “The five you got not enough?” She jokes.

I smirk a little glancing at her. “Four,” I correct, as if that made it better somehow. “Just need someone… new,” I mumble, knowing it was the best bet to get my mind off Valerie. I’m sure eventually I’d find someone who was just as hot. Someone who also smelled like coconut.

“Then what do I say to Zoe.”

“Wh- Zoe?” 

KK nods and grins at me. “She texted me asking about your shoe size or sum, wanted to get a gift for you.”

“She- she what?” My voice is full of shock and I can feel the claustrophobic tightness quickly grow inside me. I had never given her KK’s number. She was doing too much. KK just nods, clearly finding the situation amusing.

“Bro…” I groan quietly, as to not piss off CD again, and lean my head forward, resting my forehead against my arms. Zoe clearly hadn’t understood what “just fucking around” meant. Sometimes shit slipped out of my mouth, sure, but I never let her think I liked her. I had to be careful with her.

KK kisses the her teeth and is still nodding. “Yeah… probably time to let her go huh?”

“That bitch is crazy I swear,” I murmur and KK laughs out loud again. I punch her arm, reminding her to keep quiet - an impossible task for KK. Before I can stop myself, the words just slip from my mouth.

“Ted’s tonight?” 

KK looks at me pointedly. “Valerie workin’?” she teases but I shake my head sternly.

“No man, fuck Valerie.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “Just need to find a new one, k?”

“You sure you’re not just gon’ ogle at her all ni-”

“KK.” I say sternly

KK nods. “Ok,” she repeats but I can tell from her tone she doesn’t buy it. She shuts up though knowing she could tease me about anything but anything about Valerie got under my skin. Truth was Valerie was working today. I just needed to see her just for a second. Just to know if I was overthinking it, or if she was really icing me out.

-

The Friday night had brought many other students to Ted’s as well, the bar pretty packed and the chatter loud over the music. KK had convinced Ice to join us so the three of us made our way in. The best thing about crowds was it made it easy to blend in, even for us. We push our way through to the bar, my eyes immediately searching for a glimpse of Valerie’s golden brown hair or her wide eyes. All I needed was to see her, I told myself. Even for a second. Then the twist in my stomach would straighten out.

“What can I get you?” The perky voice of the redhead asks over the buzzing crowd. I think her name was Natalie or something. Ice looks over the flyers on the bar, advertising a range of new drinks.

“Let’s try some of these,” Ice suggests and I grab the flyer from her hand. I didn’t really come here to drink so I couldn’t have cared less what we ordered. Especially now I realised Valerie wasn’t even here.

“Uhh yea can we get three Aperol Negronis,”

“You won’t like it,” a stern, but sweet voice interrupts the conversation. I’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Valerie steps out from the back, pinning her hair away from her face and for a moment our gazes meet. Her dark, wide eyes make me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. For a moment I want to jump over the bar and touch her, to make sure she was really there and not just a mirage of my desires.

“W-why not?” I ask, my voice uncharacteristically shaky. Only with her I got like that. Suddenly my throat felt dry and the nervous twist in my stomach was turning into something you could only call butterflies. Of course I knew it couldn’t be butterflies, because that would mean I cared. I couldn’t afford to care. I didn’t have the time for distractions. I had a national championship to win.

Valerie scoffs looking away from me, ignoring me as I chase her gaze. “Because I know you won’t,” she says. The way she thought she knew me that well irked me. Still, I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t beaming at the fact that I had her attention after a week of trying to chase her down.

I can’t help the pout that forms in defiance. She’s still ignoring me, pouring drinks for a group of boys clearly ogling at her - which only irked me more.

“Well… I want three of them,” I say matter of factly, trying to prove a point.

“Whoa Paige, maybe we should just get a shirl-” Ice chuckles but I shake my head.

“Three Aperol Negronis,” I dictate. Valerie’s stern eyes finally look at me. She looks almost a little scary, not pleased with my tone. “... please.” I add urgently, not wanting to get on her bad side. I guess some would say I already had.

Wordlessly, Valerie rolls her wide eyes and gets to mixing the drinks. I allow my eyes to wander for a moment, noticing how the white shirt of the work uniform hugged her body, the curve of her breasts making my mouth water. Just seeing her was enough to ignite the fire deep in my abdomen. The things I would do to leave with her tonight and take her to my bed, like I had so many times before. I would even settle for just some kissing. Just wanted to let my hands wander down her body, squeeze and feel where I wanted, with no urgency. I needed to feel all of her, wanted to drown in her.

“By card orrr…?” Valerie asks, clearly waiting for the payment. My eyes had gone glassy, and my lower lip had a small dent from the way I’d been biting down on it. I blink stupidly at her, struggling to calm myself down.

“I got it,” KK murmurs and slides her card to Valerie. I grab my drink, and the smell is enough to make my face scrunch up in disgust. I swear it smells like battery acid, and as I take a sip I notice - it also tastes like battery acid. I swallow the orange liquor, it burns on its way down making me cough a little. Valerie was watching me amused. I hated when she was right.

“People actually drink this and like it??” Ice asks, her voice hoarse from coughing as well. KK nods agreeing but I’m too stubborn to admit defeat.

“I actually like it,” I lie with a straight face, my fingers twitching around the glass as I try to get over the bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

“Oh right,” Valerie says, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turns to another group of customers. I can’t help reach over the bar, my hand grabbing her arm. She turns back to face me, icier than I had ever seen. It shocks me enough that I let go of her, taken aback.

“What?” she asks, her voice filled with annoyance.

“You seen my texts?” is all I ask, and it comes out a little too desperate for my liking.

“Yes,” Valerie says matter of factly. I wait for her to continue but she doesn’t.

“Uh… well thought we’d link up or something,” I add, shifting on my feet as I do.

Valerie sighs in frustration and takes a deep breath to compose herself.

“I’m good,” is all she says and flashes me an ice cold smile. I feel a strange pang in my heart. She had iced me out before, but not like this. Usually seeing her face to face was enough for her to forget our petty little arguments, enough to get her on me again. “I have work,” she adds before finally returning to serve the other customers.

I stand there for a moment, astonished. An uncomfortable ache that had been wavering in my chest was growing too intense for me to ignore anymore. Maybe it was all my fault after all. I had told her I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else and in the moment I had meant it. But then I remembered the stakes. Last year to win a national championship, last year to prove my greatness. I wasn’t going to mess it up just because of some girl. A relationship would be nothing more than a distraction, an unnecessary responsibility. I had enough on my plate. Valerie was selfish for wanting me all to herself. She didn’t understand what she was asking for. Maybe calling her a psycho bitch wasn’t so far off.

I feel someone bump into my back and turn around to find a girl, cheeks blushed and apologetic. I see her eyes widen in recognition - it was always that moment when I knew I could have this girl if I wanted. 

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m a little drunk,” the girl giggles and I offer her an easy smile. I consider taking this girl home, imagining the way I’d lure her into my bed, just a little bit of sweet talk and a smirk would be enough, a hand on her waist, thumb rubbing her skin and soon she’d get this look on her face like she had to have me. It would be so easy, and I wouldn’t have to think about Valerie at all.

But the pain in my chest doesn’t go away, even when I let my mind wander further, how this girl would look underneath me, whimpering while I fuck her. It did nothing to make the pain go away.

“‘S fine,” i murmur and decide to ignore the way she was blinking at me, biting her bottom lip. I grab my drink from the bar, and push past her, finding KK and Ice sitting at our usual table. They both look at me, but don’t ask where I’d been. They both knew better. I sip my drink, cursing to myself in my head about ordering it. With sheer stubbornness I finish it quickly, finding that easier than taking small sips. 

“You’re never picking what we drink again,” KK scoffs, copying me, her face scrunching involuntarily when she finishes her drink. But I barely register her words, as I lean back in the chair, head tilting back to watch Valerie.

She’s giggling with Natalie, throwing her head back in amusement. The chatter in the bar is deafening, but I swear I could hear her laugh in my head vividly. Like my brain had memorised each tone of her voice. There was something different about Valerie, she always shined the brightest in every room she was in. Even the dingy bar was lit up by her. She wasn’t even necessarily extremely lively. It was her mere presence that just made everything better. 

I noticed it the first time I ever saw her, early september. All she did was walk past me on campus, talking lively into her phone. It was her voice I had heard before even seeing what she looked like. Her voice had been enough to make me have to see her. Of course she hadn’t even looked my way, not even a glance. That was the moment I knew I had to have her.

“You enjoy it?” Valerie asks KK and Ice, fully ignoring me as she walks to our table to clean up. I watch the golden bracelet she always wore dangling on her wrist as she grabs the empty glasses. I lean back and tilt my head to look up at her, needy for her attention. Licking my lips I look her up and down, that usually worked enough to get her naked. But now, she didn’t even glance at me. Annoyance grew within me as she chatted with KK, laughing at her jokes.

It was then when my eyes moved from her lips to her neck that I saw it - a dark bruise underneath her ear, right on the spot where she liked to be kissed. I knew, because I had left many bruises there and gotten scolded for it. But this wasn’t mine. This was someone else’s.

“Okay well see ya around,” Valerie smiles and turns to take the glasses to the back. I feel the pang in my chest quickly flip, turning into anger. I was furious. Who did she think she was? Sleeping around with someone else, not answering my texts, letting someone else mark her like that. I felt my body turn hot, and without a word to KK and Ice I get up from my seat, nearly knocking it over as I take quick strides to reach Valerie, following her into the back, ignoring the STAFF ONLY sign on the door.

My steps are heavy and loud as I reach her, standing by the sink, handling the dirty glasses. I was shaking my head to myself, trying to control my anger. But it was getting the best of me.

“Staff only plea-” Valerie starts and turns to me, unable to miss the redness of my face, the clenched jaw and the way I was biting on the insides of my cheeks. “Paige?” she asks, furrowing her brows, confused.

The pounding in my head grows and I let out a scoff, not feeling in control of myself. My brain was moving faster than I could follow, I felt lightheaded. I felt furious. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my voice loud. I didn’t really care about being overheard.

“Huh?” Valerie asks, clearly bewildered, but already getting defensive in response to how I was acting.

“What, you don’t text me, call me or nothing? Because you’ve been too busy fucking some other bitch?” I yell, my hand pointing to her neck. Valerie’s eyes widen in realisation but quickly turn angry too. 

“I- WHAT?” She yells back and takes a step towards me.

“Don’t play dumb. So who is it?” I say sternly, grinning bitterly at her, my eyes looking down at her.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes shaking her head which only infuriates me more.

“I said. Who. Is. It?” I repeat, grabbing her arm. She pushes my hand off her, anger growing on her face as her brows furrowed further.

“How is it any of your business who I sleep with Paige?” She argues.

She had a point. We weren’t exclusive. Matter of fact it was pretty hypocritical of me to be so angry when I had a roster of girls on my phone, ready to answer my calls at any time of day. My anger had taken over though, and the little sense I had when it came to Valerie, was completely gone.

I throw my head back and chuckle bitterly, provoking her further. “See I knew you’re a lotta things but didn’t know you were a slut too,” I hiss, the words slipping out without much thought. I couldn’t think of anything but how furious I felt.

Valerie laughs loud, but it’s not the sweet laugh I was used to. It was a bitter, angry laugh.

“Me?! You’ve slept with every girl that swings your way on campus and even some that don’t! You’re the slut Paige!” she screams, her wide eyes burning with anger, her finger coming up to point at my face. It pissed me off, the way it was assigning blame, like all of this was my fault. Like it wasn’t she who slept with someone.

“I don’t owe you anything!” she declares, her voice revealing a hint of hurt, the way it cracked slightly. “I’m done with you. I’m serious Paige. Done,” she adds, her voice calmer, but more authoritative. “Now get out of my bar.”

My face was hot and red, my chest was heaving and my head spun. The hurt in her voice made me waver, made my chest ache more. I blink at her stupidly as she turns back to the dishes, already missing having her attention. I was fine with the yelling, the fighting, as long as it meant she was looking at me, or talking to me. But now she’s done with me? Fine, so was I. Wouldn’t take me longer than a day to find a new Valerie.

“Pshh whatever,” I murmur and storm out of the back, heading fast towards the exit. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my chest felt tight and I could taste the bitter Aperol on my tongue still. It made me nauseous,

I’m gasping for air once I feel the chilly breeze of february hitting my skin. The silence outside was overwhelming, forcing me to realise the rapid pace of my own thoughts. My mind was swirling with flashing images of Valerie, on top of someone, looking down at her like she did at me, the idea of her moaning someone else’s name made me sick.

“Fuck!” I shout, unable to control myself. A group of girls near me turn to look at me but return to their conversation when I sit myself down on the curb. What a standard I was setting for student athletes everywhere right now.

My eyes burn and before I notice, a tear rolls down my cheek. I bury my face into my hands and rub my jaw, my anger easing with each exhale. I didn’t know why I was crying, I didn’t understand any of this. I couldn’t believe the things I had said, the way I had acted. I was supposed to be disciplined, in control, but I felt so out of control when it came to Valerie.

“Paigey…” KK murmurs and suddenly I realise her and Ice are standing in front of me, looking down at me sympathetically. Embarrassed, I wipe the tears away and try to steady my breathing.

“Uhh sorry just gimme a sec guys,” I sigh looking at the ground. They sit on either side of me, wrapping their arms around me. I lean into Ice’s shoulder and I’m grateful how they don’t pry, or talk. We just sit there in silence for a while.

I take a deep sigh and lift my head back up, chewing on my bottom lip. I glance at both of the girls sitting next to me, grateful for the friends I had. At least I got one thing right.

“I dunno what just happened,” I sigh, shaking my head thinking back to my behaviour. The shame I felt made my cheeks turn a shade of red.

KK chuckles softly and ruffles my hair affectionately. “I do,” she mumbles.

I furrow my brows and turn to look at her. She looks back at me like whatever was about to come out of her mouth was obvious. KK and Ice glance at each other before KK opens her mouth to speak.

“Bro you have feelings for her.”

Oh?

Oh.

My mouth parts in realisation as I move my gaze from KK to the pavement. It’s just us now, sitting in silence, the sounds of passing cars and the muted sounds of the bar the only noise in the chilly evening.

“C’mon P boogers, let’s go home,” Ice says, standing up and reaching a hand down to lift me up. 

KK hops up and nods. “You need some Tru Fru,” she adds.

With a nod, I let them pull me up, following them to the car. I had feelings for Valerie. Shit. I'd just have to find a way to get over it - I couldn’t afford all this. Not right now. Not with the world watching, waiting for me to fail. Not with a national championship on the line.

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @mandyvivic @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch @taylynbueckers44 @mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @tndaqlifwy @justliketoreadsowhat @oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her

NEXT ONE WILL BE HOTTER I PROMISE

[pomefioredove]

Hello! I saw your requests were open and wanted to put one in. Can I request Silver, Azul, and Vil with a reader who likes them but feels like they can't confess bc they're scared to form any more attachments to the people in twisted wonderland bc they think they have to return to their world and can't stay? Idk if that makes sense but yeah 😅

Ty in advance and have a nice day :)

of course!!! hehe. ended up writing this a little sappier than my usual headcanons

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ wordless confession

type of post: headcanons characters: azul, vil, silver additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, long

Azul is pretty perceptive. it doesn't take a lot for him to guess that you have feelings for him, unbelievable as it is (to him, at least)... and he also had Jade ask you a few questions in a totally normal and non-threatening manner. he's also guessed that you're holding back because of your... well, unfortunate situation. you're smart, like him, enough to know that it's more trouble than it's worth. unfortunate as it is, staying away from each other proves to be harder than you thought (with no help from the tweels, who love the drama and think that Azul desperately "needs some bitches"- in Floyd's words, not mine). bumping into each other turns to awkward conversation, which turns to time spent together, which ends with your pinky fingers linked together on dates that you both insist are only meetings

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it was Vil who fell first, but he didn't really know it. to him, you were simply good friends, better than he'd ever had, and he wanted to hold onto that for as long as he could. you were always fated to leave him; he knew this. and so he wouldn't let himself believe he was in love until you started shying away, avoiding him to avoid your own feelings. those few weeks were some of the hardest, but they made him realize that he was losing you whether he confessed or not. he didn't want to live thinking about what could have been, rather than what was. he'll always have his career, his fans, his friends and family, but there's only one you, and only one chance he has to make your time together special

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Silver thought that keeping himself busy would keep his thoughts off of you. he'd thought he was dreaming it at first. that, perhaps, he'd dozed off mid-conversation and only dreamt of you, shying away, fidgeting with your hands, avoiding eye contact. but when Lilia starts asking about you, and Sebek starts making noises of disgust when you're together, he realizes he'd been more awake than usual. it's not difficult to guess that you're withholding yourself because of your... background, and, at first, Silver wants to respect your wish and remain friends. it's not as simple as that, though, and after Lilia encourages him to pursue you anyway (human lives are so very short, after all), he does just that

[luveline]

what if bombshell!reader proposed to Spencer? Instead of Spencer proposing to bombshell!reader? Would he be upset or just as happy? Also, I absolutely adore your writing! 🥰💕

ty for requesting!! —spencer gets a love he deserves, 1.4k, fem!reader

The first proper time that you and Spencer slept together, he wasn’t nervous. It was sort of like a high school sleepover. You’d slept in shared beds in stuffy hotels and he’d once stayed the night while he was too drunk to remember it, but the first time you invited him in with intention to just be together, he wasn’t scared. You remember being surprised. Looking back, you shouldn’t have been. 

You laid together like you are now. He wore a grey t-shirt and a pair of blue chequered pants, and he’d pushed his hair back all day leaving the front pieces limp, and he’d touched your cheek to encourage your face to his before he moved in for one polite kiss. “I love you,” he’d said, much too early and a couple years too late at the same time. 

You turn on your side now to look at him. His contacts are out, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He’s watching a video on his laptop and the line of his jaw is soft. Or, softer than usual. He has a very sharp jaw. 

You shift a bit to alleviate the pressure on your hip.

“You okay?” Spencer asks. He doesn’t look away from his laptop nor does he sound tuned in. It’s sort of funny that he manages to care even when he’s not paying attention.

“Yeah.” 

“Tired?” 

“Not really.” 

“Hungry at all?” 

“Just brushed my teeth.” 

“That’s not the question I was asking.” 

“Not hungry, Spencer. Can I watch too?” 

He turns the laptop toward you to the point where his view is obscured, raising the volume a touch. “It’s about Tuberculosis. Do you wanna watch something else?” 

“No, this sounds interesting.” 

He settles in next to you. His fingers brush your chest. For a good forty five minutes, you and Spencer watch the rest of his video. He gets visibly tireder the longer it goes on, but neither of you attempt to get ready to sleep until the video’s finished. He closes the lid of his laptop, twisting in bed to deposit it gently on the floor. There’s a familiar shush of him sliding it under the bed to stop you from standing on it (a learned precaution). 

“Did you take that vitamin, the primrose?” he asks, flicking off his bedside lamp, leaving yours as the only source of light in the entire room. It’s a pink glass shade that kisses his pale skin a rosy hue. 

“Yeah, Spence.” 

He shakes the sheets back and the over you both. One minute you’re apart and the next he’s pulling you into him, confident handed, his breath warming your face as the gap between you thins. Despite his readying, he doesn’t say goodnight, or close his eyes. This is your time now. You often spend time at night just talking to each other about everything you’d meant to say that day, or nonsense conversation, until one or both of you has been lulled into a peaceful sleep. 

“I have something I want to tell you,” you say. 

“Okay.” He sounds completely trusting, no worrying, no reluctance. 

“You remember the first time you stayed at my apartment?” 

“No.” 

“The second time,” you correct. 

“Yes,” he says, grinning. “I was much less intoxicated that time.” 

“You were sober.” 

“I didn’t feel sober,” he says. 

“Nice. You’re getting so good at this.” 

“Thank you.” 

“But do you remember that?” You trace the curve of his nose. He’ll have to take his glasses off soon. They’ve already worn red crescents into his skin. “You told me you loved me.” 

“I can’t forget it,” he says, still grinning. You’ve tried to tell people —idiots— who don’t understand you and Spencer that, even without his million charms and idiosyncrasies, you’d love him for his smile. It changes his entire face. He never looks as beautiful to you as he does when he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t say it back.” 

“We’d only been together for a few days,” he says. “It was one of my moments.” 

“Spencer, I did love you, though. I should’ve told you. I knew in that moment that you really, really meant it, and I just want you to know that when you said it, I could have said it back. I should have. I loved you just as much, I promise.” 

“I know,” he whispers, eyes slightly widened. 

“I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. It’s cliche.” 

“Sometimes things are cliche because they’re good,” he says, laying his cheek more firmly into his pillow as he raises a hand to your face. His thumbs rests in the space under your chin. His fingertips brush along the skin just beside your lips. “And true. I loved you the minute you introduced yourself.” 

You savour the feeling of his hand on your cheek. 

“You’re so handsome,” you say, “and kind. You’re everything to me. You know that.” 

Spencer wraps his arm gently under your chin and behind your head as he lays closer to you. “I know. You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I– didn’t even know how happy I could be before now.” 

“Me too, baby.” 

He closes his eyes. Your noses touch. 

“Spencer Reid, will you marry me?” you whisper.

Quiet. Aching, total quiet. He curls his arm behind your head until your lips are a hair’s width apart, and when he answers, it’s like he’s spoken directly to the deepest parts of you. “It’s all I want,” he says. 

“I got you a ring,” you murmur. 

The air races with your heart. The sound of your skin and clothes is the only thing to be heard between breaths. “I got you three,” he says. 

“Spencer, what for?” you ask, afraid to open your eyes and break the spell, the branching, unending feeling of connection you share. 

“I didn’t know which one you’d like.”

“You’ll marry me?” you ask. 

“Angel, I already said yes. I love you. I told you already we’d have to get married.” 

“Oh, we have to?” 

Spencer kisses you. It’s startlingly open-mouthed for a moment, but you adapt and overcome, you love him and his every touch, tilting your head to the side to allow him room to ferry in and kiss you deeply. It’s slow and measured, then quick and undecided. He turns his face one way to kiss you, then the other, back again, a hint of roughness —of hunger to it as he pulls your face to his. 

A spark of heat against your nose. 

Your eyes flutter open, a pinked path of light scored diagonally down his cheek. “Spence,” you say, feeling the weight and heat of tears gather behind your eyes, even as you smile, “don’t cry, baby.” 

“I feel like I spent my whole life waiting for someone to love me and it doesn’t feel real that it’s you,” he whispers slowly. 

“No? How do I make it more real for you, sweetheart? What can I do?” you ask sincerely. 

He shakes his head. 

You push your forehead into his. He doesn’t cry anymore than two burning hot tears, rubbing your shoulder as you yourself sniffle back your own emotion. You’re really not sad. You hurt for him, but this is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. 

“Do you want to choose your ring?” he asks, enthusing his voice with cheer. 

“Do you want to see yours first?” 

“Did you get me a diamond?” he asks. 

“Don’t be silly, Spencer, of course I did.” 

He laughs and kisses you three times in quick succession before he sits up, wiping his face, chuckling wryly. “Sorry, I didn’t think I would react like that.” 

You tangle your fingers with his before he can get too far away. “I love you, honey. There’s nothing wrong with crying about it.” 

You aren’t expecting to start crying when he slides one of the rings he’s chosen for you over your finger. He says you can see each one in action and choose after you've seen them all, but the moment the band is over your knuckle, you know it’s the one you’ll keep. You push the ring you’d bought for him onto his finger with your cheeks still tearstained.

The diamond on his ring isn’t quite as big as the one he’d bought for you, but it looks right nestled against his pale skin. That night, you talk more than you ever have before, falling asleep only minutes after the glowing threads of morning have painted your twined hands with gold. 

[amyispxnk]

Mi Niña Hermosa

Masterlist

Summary - Javier gets you pregnant, but then he gets scared, leaving you to raise your little girl all alone. One day, he sees you working at a brothel to try and make ends meet, and realises what he needs to do.

A/N: for this ask! i hope you like it pookie<3 also please excuse any bad spanish! i tried my best with it but it might not be 100% accurate.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and sex, violence, language, pregnancy/children, arguing, brief suicidal ideation, hurt+comfort, angst, men being men

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Shh, shh, Carmen, mi amor. Está bien,” you plead with your baby daughter. She’s been up for the past hour because of yet another explosion a few blocks away. You think it was a car bomb this time, but does it really matter? All you know for sure is that Carmen is not going to let you sleep through the night because of it.

She’s almost 12 months old now, which means it's been almost 2 years since you last saw Javi. You hate yourself for it, but sometimes you look at your little girl and feel bitter. It’s not her fault, but she was the reason that Javi finally said goodbye to you.

You both knew it was a long time coming, but when you showed him a positive pregnancy test that night, you yelled at each other until your throats were raw and all your tears had been cried, before he slammed the door in your face and left you there. It was the final time you saw him.

Because of Carmen’s deadbeat father, you ended up in a brothel. It was one of the hardest decisions of your life, but you knew you had to do it for her.

“¡Muy bien chicas, salgan y ganen algo de dinero!” You want to jump out of this building, is your first thought. Crash all the way to the floor and forfeit this terrible life you’ve been ‘blessed with’. But you can’t. So you hold your head high, plaster on a smile, and walk out into the lobby of the brothel.

Your smile drops when you see him.

Of all the fucking brothels to go to, he chooses this one? The one you just so happened to start working at a week prior? That tenth-storey window looks even more tempting right now, especially when he locks eyes with you.

He’s with a man, blonde hair, blue eyes. You think that man’s name is Steve Murphy. Yes, you’ve seen them on the news. Who the fuck hasn’t? It just makes you even more frustrated. He left you and Carmen behind so that he could hunt down Pablo Escobar. He abandoned the two of you for fame.

Javi’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Steve, before he starts making his way towards you.

Hell to the fucking no. You turn on your heel and almost drag a man you noticed was ogling you for the past 5 minutes into one of the rooms, letting the curtains close behind you, separating you from Javi.

The time you share with that man is no different than any of the other men you’ve been with, all uncomfortable and gross for you, mind-blowingly good for him.

Sometimes you still think of Javi when you feel a man on top of you. He was the best you had, after all.

Outside, Javi curses loudly, drawing the eye of a few people and his partner.

“What the fuck was that, Javi? We’re here to question the girl, not chase after this random. Your dry spell that bad?” Steve laughs, clapping him on the back. Javi quickly shrugs him off, jaw clenched and gaze hollow.

“I know her.” He mutters. Yes, he knows you. He knows every part of you. Your smile, which he only saw on a rare occasion. Your eyes, which could always pierce him, see straight through his soul and see the worst parts of him. Your body, which you now sell because of him.

Steve is still yapping on about something or other whilst the storm inside of Javi swirls, growing and growing. You’re behind that curtain, selling your body. He knows why you’re doing it too, and it makes him feel even worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out as it all hits him at once.

What a piece of shit he’s been.

You don’t deserve this life. You deserve to be happy, supported and protected by someone, anyone who can help you. Not Javi though. He’s not fit to be a father. After what he’s seen, what he’s done, he could never care for something as precious as your baby.

But he knows what men are like. Knows that, somehow, he’s one of the better men in this country. It’s not a high bar to pass, this he knows too, but he figures that it must be why you have to work here to provide for yourself and his child. Fuck. He doesn’t even know the gender, the name. He wasn’t there for you at all, and he should have been.

It feels like there’s no going back though. How could he ever apologise enough or make it up to you? What he’s done is irreversible. Just from the way you reacted when you saw him now, it feels like it’ll be impossible to try to apologise to you.

He thinks of his father, his mother. How disappointed would they be? They probably already were, but with this? Abandoning a girl with a child he gave her?

They would surely disown him.

He feels like he’s been ungrateful too. After being raised by two loving and caring parents, how could he leave his own child without one? And with a life like this?

He runs a hand down his face, telling Steve to shut up. A loud shout from the man behind the curtain, surely finishing without giving you a moment of pleasure. He knows what you sound like when the sex is good. You barely made a peep in these past 5 minutes.

The man walks out, commenting on ‘how good that slut was’ as he walks past Javi and Steve, and it takes everything in him not to punch him square in the face there and then.

“I need to talk to her, Steve. 5 minutes.” Javi decides suddenly. He can’t let this go on.

“You better not be fucking on the job, Javi.”

He grunts in response, entering the room and letting the curtains slide closed behind him.

The entire world goes still, silent just for the two of you. Almost 2 years have gone by, and this is how you meet. The shame almost swallows him whole.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before you can even register what’s happening, because he knows you’ll be ready to kick and scream to get him away from you when you do.

Unsurprisingly, your eyes well with tears, and your face twists into one of disgust.

“Why the fuck are you here.” You spit, holding your robe tighter around yourself.

“We were here for a job, and-”

“Do you think I actually care? You fucked off two years ago, I don’t want to see you back here now. Whatever it is you want, I don’t care.” You interrupt. Yes, this was going to be as difficult as he thought.

“Baby, please just-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t get to call me that!” You shout. He’s on borrowed time before somebody comes and escorts him out of here.

“Just listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pleads, desperate for you to listen. He doesn’t know how to get his message across to you.

Your tears burst forth, fat droplets cascading down your skin as you turn away from him.

“Go away, Javier. I don’t want to see your face ever again. I see it in her everyday and it already haunts me enough.”

His baby is a girl.

“I’m here to talk about her. I… I want to help. I’m so sorry for leaving. I got scared. I thought- I wasn’t ready to take care of something as precious as a baby… I thought you would get hurt if it was discovered that a DEA agent like myself had a child.”

“Yeah. Agente de la DEA, Javier fucking Peña,” you scoff, “who abandoned his child in pursuit of fame. To catch a bad guy. Some fucking hero you think you are.”

He can’t get angry with you. He won’t. However wrong you are about what you just said. He won’t do it.

“I don’t want fame.” He grits out. How much of an asshole is he that you thought he would leave you for fame? “I’m trying to help this country. It was dangerous enough for me to see you regularly, you know this. If I was seen with a woman and a child, they wouldn’t waste a second trying to kill you both. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I care about you. Please understand, baby.” He begs you again, hand carefully reaching for your shoulder and turning you to face him. You’re still sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Mírame.” He whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can see your eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” He says. He’ll say it thousands, millions of times, it still won’t be enough, but he can see that you’re starting to understand.

“It’s been 2 years. I had to be pregnant and raise her all by myself. Not once did you check on me.”

“I was scared. I was being a coward, I know. I… I won’t be surprised if you tell me to leave again, but let me help pay for her. I don’t want you working here. It’s dangerous.” He murmurs, eyes shining with emotion as he looks into yours.

You shake your head, and he gets ready to argue about it, but you pull him closer, squeezing the air out of him and shaking with sobs again.

“I’ve needed you for so long. I- I don’t know how I managed this long. I need you, Javi.” You choke out, his heart shattering with every word until it’s laid out on the floor for you.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He soothes, running his hand through your hair.

Over the next month, he helps you leave the brothel, gives you some money to get on your feet. You still live apart, despite his protests that you’d be safer living with him, you’re not ready yet.

Today you figure will be the decider of that. He’s going to meet Carmen.

You rub your eyes as the morning sun hits you, rousing you from your sleep. The clock reads 9:37. Just over 20 minutes until your daughter finally meets her father.

The 20 minutes are spent waking and feeding her, before a knock on the door stops you.

You exhale shakily and walk to the door, opening it slowly.

“Hola, Javi.” You say softly. He greets you, equally timid. You notice he’s holding a little teddy bear in his hands, almost making you laugh at how it looks being held by this big brooding man, but you just shake your head.

“Come and meet her.” You murmur, opening the door further so he can step inside.

There, messing around on your bed, is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. He can definitely see his features on her face. The lips, the eyes. She got your nose, thankfully he thinks, and her hair is a unique blend of yours and Javi’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, and you just nod, still unsure of your feelings for him right now.

“Carmen, baby, say hello.” You coo, picking her up and bringing her over to Javi. He’s quiet, scared, as always. But then she babbles at him, clapping her hands together and trying to reach for him. The teddy. He almost forgot about it.

“Hola pequeña, soy tu papá. ¿Quieres el peluche?” He says softly, waving it around a bit before handing it to her and letting her play. You and Javi talk for a bit while she sits on the bed, but then something happens. She gets tired, which is normal around 2pm, but instead of crawling to you, she goes to Javi. Carmen wraps her little fingers around one of his larger ones, curling up in his lap. The two of you still, and it shocks you to see tears appearing in his eyes as he strokes her hair, letting her sleep on him.

You decide to move in with him that night, realising that you don’t want him to be away from you and Carmen ever again.

TYSM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞