#and i just metally looked her in the eyes and typed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mourning-sapphire · 1 day ago

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living dead girl | aemond targaryen

Summary: You didn’t think going to a gig would then have you on your back in a hotel room with the lead guitarist between your thighs and a blinking red light on the nightstand.

Pairing: Metal Guitarist!Aemond x Reader (modern au)

Warnings (not in order): roughly set in the 00s, voyeurism/filming sexual acts (with consent! but again there is explicit filming of sexual acts), smut, spitting, spanking, overstimulation, guitarists finger faster, multiple positions, use of nicknames (baby, bunny etc.), face-fucking, dry humping, a healthy dose of dacryphilia, softish? dom!aemond, sub reader, cum eating/sharing (oops), UNPROTECTED sex (don’t do this irl), edging (m), creampie, aftercare.

Word count: 30k

authors note: ive read this about a million times, if there's a mistake know i had to proof this myself, enjoy babies hehe <3

Dragon’s Gate Bar

Bodies, bodies, bodies.

The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, so overpowering that it drowned out the usual smells of a packed crowd—sweat, stale drinks, and damp jackets. About 150 people were shoved into the sticky floored basement of an alt bar, the only one in the city; bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, the walls sweating from the collective heat. All shuffling and moving for the same reason – to see some band.

“I’m not sure why you dragged me out to this,” you shouted to your friend Sara, leaned close to be heard over the noise. Your eyes flicker up to the dinky but oddly charming stage. “It’s not like I’m here for the same reason you are.”

It’s not that you didn’t enjoy alternative music, actually, you loved the rush and relief it gave you after a hard day at work or when you needed an adrenaline boost at the gym. But going to gigs? That was never really your thing. The preference for you was being sat in your bedroom, thinking with headphones on, rather than grimacing every time someone knocked into you or risking a drink getting spilt over you. You didn’t knock the culture; you just didn’t go very far out of your comfort zone often.

Sarah on the other hand? Despite being your friend she was the polar opposite, she was always the more outgoing one. The one that pushed you out of your comfort zone and made sure you always had fun wherever she dragged you to. But for all intents and purposes, and in her own words, she was a groupie.

The thrill she got from following bands she loved, chasing the music, and hooking up with someone along the way was unmatched for her, honestly? You adored her for it. The stories she shared about her escapades; the tours she hauled herself on, the wild nights, the explicit encounters in seedy bathrooms, were nothing short of thrilling. In a way, you lived vicariously through her adventures.

“Girl,” She leaned in as close as you, and yelled back, “When I tell you that you’ll love this band, trust me, not only are they talented but fuck, they are hot.” She cackled, glancing around the bar before she grabbed your arm and pointed to the stage door.

“See him over there?” she said, pointing toward a medium-length, white-haired guy who looked a little worse for wear as he chatted with someone by the side of the stage; just her type. “That’s Aegon. He’s the lead singer.”

Your lips parted to respond to her before she slapped your arm, and pointed just left of the lead singer.

“And over there? That’s Daeron,” she said with a sly giggle and a raised brow. “The drummer, shy and totally your type.” Sarah couldn’t help but tease, cooing at you with a dirty smirk on her red lips.

Following her gaze, you couldn’t help but purse your lips in appreciation. She wasn’t entirely wrong, Daeron did seem like your type. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was taller than the lead singer. His cropped white hair had a fluffy texture with curls on top, and his ears were kitted out with a plethora of piercings. He wore what you could only describe as a "slutty" tank top, arms on full display, paired with ripped black straight leg jeans. Everything about him screamed boy in the band. At the edge of the stage, he was lost in his rhythm, tapping his drumsticks on a practice pad with focused look.

“Are they all related or something,” You asked her, looking at Daeron intensely as the black-haired man who was speaking to Aegon wandered over to him next.

“Yes,” She nodded with a shit-eating grin, her eyes burning with some sort of desire, “There’s a guitarist too, Aemond, but he’s a bit no-nonsense with everything so you never see him until he goes on stage – their sister Helaena joins them as bass when they tour.” She added.

“So, they’re a family of musicians?” You raised your eyebrow apprehensively, giving her a strange look, “That’s a first.”

“Kinda hot,” she said, biting her lip with an amused glint in her eyes before shooting you a heated look. “Two brothers in one go? Now that’s my kind of night.” You could only shake your head at her, matching her amused expression.

“What’s their name again?” you asked, glancing at the stage’s fabric backdrop; a black flag with a red, cracked crown decorating the centre.

“Blood Princes,” she replied with a slight eye roll, grabbing your arm and tugging you toward the front of the crowd. She pushed forward with little regard for the glares thrown her way. “Bit of a silly name, but apparently, they’re descended from royalty or something,” she yelled back over her shoulder.

You let out a puff of air, grimacing at the annoyed looks Sarah earned as she elbowed her way through the crowd. While the lights began to dim as the last stragglers filtered into the bar, and the noise of the crowd swelled. Determined as ever, Sara made it her life’s mission to reach the barrier at the very front.

The stage was lower than what you’d see at a big venue, leaving no doubt that this was all part of her plan. If she could get front and centre, so could her flirty attitude, and she’d make sure one of the brothers noticed. It was clear she had her sights set on turning tonight into another of her wild stories.

You followed her reluctantly, shuffling through the crowd as Sara carried forward with pure energy and eagerness. The closer you got to the front, the more you could start to feel the heat of the crowd, the mix of raw excitement snapping in the air as the yelling increased. The air felt thick with incense and the promise of something about to happen.

By the time you had shoved your way to the barrier, she was practically vibrating with excitement, her smoky eyes scanning the side of the stage for any sign of the brothers. You couldn't help but chuckle under your breath. She was a force of nature when she got this determined (or horny).

The room grew darker, and the chatter quieted, replaced by the rising tone of a guitar. The anticipation in the air felt electric, and if the atmosphere was anything to go by, then these brothers probably knew how to put on a show. You couldn’t deny you were caught up in the feeling that Sara felt, that raw charge of the night and the want to just let go and enjoy yourself.

Despite yourself, you found your heart racing, the bobbing of silver-haired men on the side and the crowd starting to chant, topped off and heightened by Sara's infectious energy.

It was like a fate when the lights cut out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The screams of the crowd collectively pierced the air, waiting for the first notes to break the silence.

“Dragon’s Gate,” A smooth timber of who you assumed was Aegon pulsed out the speaker - a deep, resonating sound that seemed to shook the air around you. The crowd erupted into cheers, and the lights flashed to life in a red hue pointing to the crown, and the sound of high hats tapping filled the air, “I want to fucking HEAR YOU.” He screamed into the mic.

The band appeared on stage in a blur of black and leather, shadows shifting as they settled into their positions. Daeron, the drummer, was the first you spotted, his hands a blur of movement as he tapped the edge of his cymbals with precision. Aegon, took centre stage, his presence magnetic as he grabbed the microphone with a casual confidence.

The sound hit you like a wave and the drums thrummed in your chest as the guitars screamed through the air. Aegon’s voice, gravelly yet melodic, cut through that chaos. The crowd surged as one, a mass of bodies moving with the rhythm, drawn together in the shared euphoria of the moment.

It was at that moment, from your spot by the side of the stage, that your gaze landed on the other brother, the one you hadn’t seen before.

Aemond.

You weren’t sure if it was the crowd or the way his eyes locked onto yours, but you were breathless as you took in the sight of him. Tall, lithe, and utterly commanding, he moved right in front of your line of vision, his presence pulling you in like a magnet.

Like his brothers, Aemond was dressed head to toe in rich black. His t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, while a heavily decorated leather jacket hung casually over his shoulders; spotted with studs and patches that you didn’t understand. His jeans were tight and ripped, accentuating every sculpted muscle in his skinny legs, and topped off with a heavy looking buckle. His hair, much longer than both of his brothers, was straight and swayed with each nod of his head like rivers of liquid silver spilling over his shoulders.

What stood out the most was the faint red scar that ran across his eye, its presence flickering with each flash of light, yet always there. His eye seemed largely unaffected, milky white and probably not useable conventionally, but the slash only seemed to enhance his features rather than detract from them, adding a raw intensity to his face that made it all the more striking.

And his hands? God, his hands.

They were perfectly large and veined, like they’d been carved by the gods themselves, made to pluck strings. His bony fingers grasped onto the neck of his guitar and moved up and down in a way that told you that he had rough skin.

Something was captivating about him, something that drew your attention even as the chaos of the crowd swirled around you with the sounds of screams and shoves. It was like every movement he made seemed deliberate, as though he knew exactly how to command the room without a word; if the screaming of girls around your side of the stage was anything to go by. His eyes flicked toward you again as they started to pick up with the first song, it was as if the noise of the crowd faded for a split second, and it was just the two of you in that electric space.

Aemond didn’t look away, his gaze steady and piercing, and you felt an inexplicable shiver lick down your spine. It was like he wanted to eat you. You could almost hear the music beneath the pounding bass, its rhythm syncing with the beating of your heart. You were no longer just watching a show, you were completely caught in a moment with this man, completely aware of how he seemed to take up every bit of the space around you.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and you couldn’t tell if it was meant for the crowd or you. But it didn’t matter.

In that brief exchange, something shifted. You couldn’t look away, and neither could he. The connection, electric and silent, buzzed between you like an unspoken dare. The music throbbed louder, the crowd's energy surging again, but now, you were focused entirely on him. Aegon's screams blending into the background.

The moment seemed to stretch beyond moral time; each second dragging on as the intensity between your gazes grew. The music swirled around you, but it felt distant now as Sara jumped beside you completely unaware.

It was fading into the background as Aemond’s presence consumed your attention, a warming feeling building in your core just from his very eyes. His eyes never left yours, and with each beat, it was as though he was drawing you in deeper, challenging you to break the gaze between you.

The crowd surged around you, people moshing and shoving with an energy you didn’t possess, but you stood still, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and raw desire for a man you didn’t know. You could see his fingers moving on the guitar, effortlessly sliding across the strings with a grace that made it hard to look away.

But it wasn’t just his playing; it was the way his whole body moved with the music, the way he seemed so at ease on the stage, yet undeniably aware of every person in the room; he was there only for himself.

Every moment passing felt like hours. And then, without breaking eye contact, he crouched to the edge of the stage and leaned in slightly, his expression darkening in a way that made your breath hitch; his fingers moving at a speed you didn’t comprehend as he rattled off some solo. The crowd roared around you at him, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

With a flushed face, you could only look him up and down as Aemond smirked again, this time broader, as if he’d won some silent game between you. You couldn’t tell if he was inviting you in or daring you to look away, but either way, you knew you were already lost in it.

You knew you were fucked.

The rest of the show passed in a blur, all with Aemond’s face etched into your mind; the unspoken tension between you two palpable and electric, intoxicating even. But it was as intense as it was intoxicating, leaving you with a building warmth deep in your core – a sensation you weren’t sure you’d ever felt from a singular person before. It wasn’t just the music or the atmosphere causing it; it was something more primal, a raw need charging between two people who hadn’t even exchanged a word.

Aemond’s gaze never wavered, and neither did yours. The connection was undeniable, like an unspoken promise of more hanging in the air. Every glance, every flick of his fingers on the guitar, seemed to deepen the pull between you. The crowd around you faded, the noise blurring into the background as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

When the final song hit and for a brief, fleeting moment, Aemond’s eyes locked with yours one last time as he handed his guitar off to one of the techs. He held your gaze with an intensity that made the air thick and heavy like something was about to snap. The moment was charged but brief as he roamed over you with his eyes before disappearing off the side of the stage, leaving you standing there, breathless, wanting more.

As the lights came up, Sara turned to you with a grin so smug it could only mean she did, in fact, see the whole thing. Her head whipped around so quickly, much to the chagrin of the man behind her who got slapped with her hair, it was a miracle she didn’t get dizzy. Before you could react, her manicured hand was clutching your arm, yanking you closer.

“Girl, what was that?” she demanded, shaking you slightly for emphasis like she couldn’t contain herself. “And don’t you dare tell me ‘nothing.’ I saw the way you were making ‘fuck me’ eyes at him.” She widened her eyes for emphasis.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered, still a little breathless from the intensity of it all. Your eyes briefly glanced back at where he had just stood on stage. “We just… locked eyes, and I couldn’t look away.”

Sara squealed so loudly that a few people nearby shot her odd looks, but she didn’t care. Her face was one on of pure elated happiness,

“Are you gonna fuck him? Please tell me you are,” she asked, bouncing on the spot like a giddy child. “I mean, you picked the hardest one in the band to crack, but girl, you have to,” she said, her eyes wide and full of determination.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Sara,”

“What,” she shot back, shameless. “You know I’m right. That was electric, babe. You can’t let a moment with a man like that go to waste.”

If someone were to stare at you right now, they’d witness your mouth opening and closing like a confused fish – completely unable to tell your best friend otherwise. It was comical, and it was embarrassing because she was right. If the burning in your core didn’t speak to how much you wanted him, the fact that he ensnared your gaze without even mumbling a single word to you was something written out of a shitty book. You knew nothing about him; besides the 3 things Sara told you and the fact that visually he might be the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen.

It wasn’t like one-night stands were completely off the table - you indulged now and then, just like anyone else. You were an adult woman with needs, after all. But sleeping with a musician? That sounded like a recipe for absolute disaster.

Charming, unpredictable, and fleeting all swirled around your head. Musicians were the people who lived in the moment, burned bright, and moved on just as quickly. A one-night stand with a regular person was one thing, a mutual, fleeting connection that was understood and beneficial, but with a musician? It felt like opening the door to a mess of complications. Your face internally grimacing at the idea of blurred boundaries, ego trips, and the lingering aftermath of knowing you were likely just another fleeting memory for them.

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “It’s not like I can just walk up to him and—”

“Oh, yes, you can!” Sara interrupted, her grip on your arm tightening as she gave you a look that could burn through steel. “He was looking at you, not just glancing, babe. That was full-on-undressing-you-with-his-eyes energy.”

“Sara,” you hissed, glancing around at the dispersing crowd, it was unlikely anyone cared. “He’s probably already gone backstage or something.”

Sara could only give you a look that called you an idiot on various levels, her eyes fluttering like you’d said the stupidest thing in the world to her.

Sara snorted and crossed her arms. “They always head to the bar upstairs after the show, mingle with the crowd or whatever – it’s usually invite only or guestlist, but I know the bartender here, he’ll vouch for us.”

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

She smirked, pointing toward the other side of the room, where the stairs that led up to the bar stood – two men with beards guarding it with a passive look on their face. She could only turn and grin like she’d won the lottery, her confidence practically oozing.

“Relax, babe. I’ve done this a million times. We’ll get in, no problem.” She said smugly, linking arms with you and practically dragging you to the stairs.

The two bouncers looked intimidating but uninterested, scanning the dispersing crowd like they’d rather be anywhere else. Your stomach churned with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” you asked her, though you knew it was a futile question. Once Sara had a plan and sex on the brain, she was unstoppable.

“Good idea? Probably not,” she admitted with a laugh, linking her arm through yours and pulling you toward the stairs. “But a fun one? Abso-fucking-lutely.” She grinned.

You sighed but didn’t resist her as she led the way, her platform heels thudding against the sticky floor. Deep in your gut you knew this was a terrible idea, possibly even the worst idea of hers you could have gotten involved in, but there was a depraved part of your brain that was curious to see if your little staring contest would go anywhere.

When you eventually reached the base of the stairs, you were clearly not the only people itching to get up into the private afterparty, a gaggle of women surrounding the bouncers like hungry zombies.

Sara, being the champ that she was, merely elbowed her way in again, much like the gig crowd, and it was in a blink of an eye before one of the bouncers held up a hand to stop you going further.

“Private area,” he said flatly, giving both of you a once-over.

Sara didn’t miss a beat. She leaning in and flashing that bright smile she pulled when she wanted her way, a gentle purr to her tone as she dropped the name of someone, probably the bartender, like they were old friends. “He said it’s fine.”

On of the bouncers raised an eyebrow, glancing at his companion, who gave a barely perceptible nod; the lack of care on his face. “Alright. Go on up,” he said, stepping aside.

Your eyes widened as Sara tugged you up the stairs. “How do you do that?” you whispered, in awe as she dragged you up the stairs, your eyes glancing behind you to see the hordes of unhappy women at your easy entry.

She shrugged with a grin, jogging up the stairs like her life was dependant on it. “You gotta make them believe what you’re telling them by believing it yourself and somehow it works.”

The upstairs bar was smaller and far more exclusive, with low lighting, posters covering the walls from all the bands that had played there, and a tamer hum of the crowd. The air was tinged with a mix of lingering incense smoke, drinks, and something faintly metallic, it wasn’t off-putting in the slightest though.

It was quieter up here, the crowd dwindled to a select few – mostly friends, fans, and stage crew. The hum of voices was more subdued, like a white noise of just people around you with no discernible conversation being picked up; a stark contrast to the previous frenzied yelling from down the stairs.

The first thing you noticed was the band itself, scattered throughout the room like stars in their own sky. Each member was absorbed in their own little bubble of admirers around them, each with the casual confidence they exuded making them magnetic even in this more relaxed setting.

You could see Sara perk up from beside you as she dragged you to the bar; Aegon, holding court further down the bar, a lazy grin plastered on his face as he entertained a small group of women who all seemed to be fawning for his attention.

“You going to go over to him?” You ask her softly, nudging her with your elbow as you both lean on the bar, gesturing to the bartender for two ciders, “I mean, you look like you’re about to burst from excitement.” There’s was teasing tilt to your voice

“You mean am I going to fight off the 7 girls around him?” She rolled her eyes softly, fishing in her tiny bag for her compact and lipstick, “To which I’ll tell you, maybe, I’ll see how I feel – maybe I’ll go for one of the other brothers,” Her eyes flicked back to you with a smirk shining in them.

At her jest, you turned and looked for the other brothers – only to find Daeron stood near a corner booth, shyly sipping his drink while someone in a leather jacket tried to strike up a conversation; shy for a drummer.

Sara’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, her smirk only growing as she dragged her lipstick across her mouth with an exaggerated flourish. “That is,” she added casually, snapping the compact shut with a satisfying click, “unless someone has dibs.”

Her words hung in the air, pointed and playful. You glanced back at her, and the teasing sparkle in her eyes made your cheeks flush.

“Does that someone?” she asked, arching a perfectly sculpted brow, her tone light but loaded with suggestion.

She knew exactly what she was doing and she was stupidly happy about it, and even worse, she wasn’t wrong. The thought of “dibs” made your mind flash back to Aemond, his intense gaze, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands moved as if they were an extension of his will.

Could you handle if she decided to sleep with him? You didn’t know him, so you shouldn’t care, and Sara would never do that to you anyway. But, there was a burning in your chest at the thought of someone doing it. An ugly and nauseous feeling that clawed at your oesophagus, tearing into it and leaking something putrid into your soul.

You cleared your throat, the tight feeling suddenly like hand around your airway, fumbling pathetically for a response. “I mean, I just…” You trailed off, trying to come up with something, anything, that didn’t sound like an admission.

Sara just grinned, completely unbothered by your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, like a skittish kitten,” she said, drawing out the sounds with a knowing lilt.

She tucked her compact back into her bag and adjusted her top. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you want to make a move, now’s your chance. Guys like that? They don’t stick around long; and they certainly don’t stick around alone for long.”

She was right and you hated it, her words sinking in and hitting a nerve. The cider you had ordered was cold in your hand as you leant on the bar, glancing around for any sign him. A nervous sip being taken at the thought.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

Standing off to the darker side of the bar, well-removed from the centre of attention, Aemond seemed completely at ease yet undeniably commanding in his chosen space. His tall frame leaned casually against the wall like he didn’t really care to be there; his fingers curled around a glass of dark liquid as he chatted quietly to someone, a lady with dark hair. The faint light caught his silver strands and the sharp planes of his face, making him look almost otherworldly in such a normal place.

The woman with him laughed softly, her voice barely audible over the murmur of the crowd but you caught it; it was womanly and warm, but Aemond’s reaction to her was muted – a polite nod, and brief flicker of what you could call smile that didn’t quite reach his eye. His focus seemed elsewhere, like he was merely going through the motions of the conversation.

It wasn’t until he caught your eye, that his demeanour shifted. His posture straightened subtly, his head tilting ever so slightly as his eye locked onto yours; a nod so subtle you weren't sure if you caught it, a silent beckon to ‘come closer’. The woman beside him seemed to notice, however, her own gaze darting toward you with mild curiosity before she offered him a quick goodbye and slipped away into the crowd.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your heart pounding in your chest, Sara was close to you watching the whole thing with a smug look on her face. The feel of her sharp elbow digging into your side snapped you out of your stare, your head whipping to look at her with wide eyes.

“Go,” she said, her voice firm but there was an air encouragement under it.

You glanced back at her, your heart racing, and then turned toward Aemond, “I don’t want to just leave you on your own.”

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they would drop right out her skull, “Alone? Babe, I’m going home with someone, and you will too – now go.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your heart pounding in your chest, before your feet carried you forward almost on instinct. The closer you got, the more palpable his presence became, as though he commanded the very air around him. His gaze never strayed from you the whole time you walked over; steady and unrelenting, it was like he had all the time in the world to wait for you.

It was flattering, but it was like he was enraptured by watching a small animal about to get pounced on, his eye strong to the point that you could have sworn that the lighting made it look like a void.

When you finally stopped in front of him, he was leaned back slightly against the wall, like another frame on the gallery that was posters and signatures of past gigs. He was perched there like a gargoyle, and the way you’d heard people talk about him, it wasn’t that bold of an assumption to make that he most likely loved to watch. His tall frame both relaxed and coiled, like a snake waiting to strike. The smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver of heat through you.

"You found me," he said, his voice low and rich, carrying effortlessly over the low hum of the room. “I was wondering if staring was really all you could do.”

"I was looking for you?" you replied softly, trying to match his indifferent composure.

“Unless you stare at everyone with eyes like that…” His smirk deepened, and he took a slow sip from his glass before answering. "…I’d like to think so."

The air between you felt charged, the buzz of the room fading into a distant hum. Up close, his features were even more striking. The faint scar cutting across his eye seemed to catch the dim light in a way that made it all the more mesmerising, and the intensity of his stare was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. There was an oddity about his face, not in the sense that he wasn’t gorgeous, but that he had the features of someone that you could trace with your fingers, memories every little bump, and never meet someone like that again.

“You decided to come up,” he said, his voice smooth and quiet, like a secret meant just for you, "You’re not like the usual crowd, you stand out a bit more." he said after a beat, his eye sweeping over you in a way that felt like he was picking you apart. Judging your worth.

You couldn’t tell if it was malicious or just curiosity, but you glanced down at your clothing regardless, it wasn’t anything as outlandish as what Sara wore but it still fit the vibe; a black denim shorts and tight silk top, with a thicker leather jacket tossed over it. It was appropriate for the situation, even if the tag was digging into your side and you longed to shed it like a second skin.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" You murmured softly, your eyes glancing back up at him with a raised brow.

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment, his eyes openly sweeping over you. "It is."

“Bold,” You tut softly, your eyes sweeping over his face, “Do you usually stare down women in the crowd? Or am I special?”

Aemond's lips twitched into a faint smirk, the kind that felt practiced yet somehow still genuine, like he knew what he could do to people. He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting the tension simmer in the space between you. His free hand coming up to touch your hair, brushing the strands that were hanging down softly, twirling a piece of it around his finger. It sent a shiver down your spine as your eyes flicked to watch his hand, the subtle jingle of his bracelets, before looking back at him – his eye staring at you intensely.

“Special,” he finally said, the single word carrying enough weight to make your chest seize. “If that makes you any more comfortable...” He trailed off waiting for your name.

You gave it as you swallowed hard, the hum of the room growing even more distant, like he was pulling you into his world and the two of you were caught in a bubble apart from everything else.

“Well,” you managed to choke out, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest, “I hope you have more to offer than pretty words and staring, Aemond.” You surprised yourself with the boldness of your own response, the hint of a challenge laced in your tone.

His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking in a way that was maddening, his free hand dropped back to his side, the one that was holding his half empty glass placing it off to the side as he held your stare.

He liked long silences, and you couldn’t tell if that was hot or if it was going to be infuriating. You watched him with rapt attention as he reached out to you, his fingers lightly holding the edge of your jacket as he tugged you a bit closer to him. His form towering of you as you looked up; his hair creating a curtain as he looked down.

“Oh, I assure you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, “there’s much more than words where that came from.”

All your mouth could do was part as his used the soft hold on your jacket to switch places with him, his eyes casting around the room before tilting his chin to look down at you; curtains of starlight hair moving as he crowded you back into the wall.

Aemond’s presence was overwhelming, deliberate.

The air between you building and thickening quicker than you could ever imagine, the space between charged with something unspoken but undeniable. The sharp scent of whatever he had been drinking lingered on his breath, mixing with the faint smokiness wafting off his clothing, and it made your head swim. He was delectable.

His fingers, still hooked on the edge of your jacket, tightened just enough to pull you slightly closer, enough to make your breath hitch. Aemond wasn’t just touching fabric, he was anchoring you, claiming the space between you both as his own.

“You seem at a loss for words,” Aemond murmured, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. His voice was velvet, softer than you’d imagine by just looking at him. It teasing but edged with something deeper.

You swallowed softly, his eyes watching with rapt attention as your throat bobbed, “Not lost,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you, softer than you wanted.

His eye flickered over your face, reading you, dissecting every tiny shift in expression. Then, with agonising slowness, he lifted one hand to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb, barely there in its graze, but enough to make you shiver all the same.

“I like you like this,” he admitted, voice dipping lower, dragging over your senses. “You’re like a doe.”

A sharp breath left you, chest rising and falling as he leaned in just enough that his lips nearly brushed yours, but not quite. The heat of him, the sheer intensity in the way he watched you, was enough to set every nerve in your body alight.

“Come out for a smoke with me?” He hummed softly but his words were edged with other intentions, so soft that if he wasn’t right in front of you then the words would be lost to the bar, “If you want to of course…”

“Okay.” you whispered, trying for steady, though your fingers curled against the wall behind you. “Just a smoke, right?.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, but this time, his restraint frayed. His hand slid lower, tracing down your side before gripping your waist, firm, possessive.

“Maybe.”

And with that, he closed the last sliver of space between you, pulling your hand from behind you.

The night air did little to cool the heat still pulsing under your skin. Every nerve in your body was taut as you stood beside Aemond on the curb, waiting. The street was quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of a car, but all you could hear was the faint rush of your own breath, watching it even as it turned to white smoke in the cold air, coupled with the unsteady thrum of your pulse. You had watched him take his phone out as he tugged you outside, pulling up an app to call a car.

Sara’s face has been absolutely ecstatic as she caught your eye leaving, his body perched on the lap of someone that wasn’t her main conquest, a subtle tongue in cheek push telling you that she was hoping you’d get that and then some tonight.

Aemond exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the ember of his cigarette glowing bright before fading into the darkness. He held it loosely between his fingers, rolling it casually like he had no thoughts in his head, his other hand shoved in his coat pocket.

Despite the casual stance, there was nothing relaxed about him. His presence was deep, brimming with unspoken intent, and the weight of his gaze was heavy when it flickered to you. Sending a fresh wave of anticipation curling through your stomach.

He smirked, lips twitching around the cigarette. “You’re quiet.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly under his stare. “So are you.”

His eye glowed in the low light. “I enjoy a good silence.”

You let out a soft scoff, but there was no real bite to it. Your pulse had yet to settle from earlier, from the way he had pressed you against the wall, the way he had touched you like he knew exactly what you needed before you even did. And now, just standing next to him, you felt like you were on the edge of something again, teetering between restraint and surrender.

Aemond took another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot with slow, deliberate movements. When he turned toward you fully, it felt like the air between you shifted, tightening like a drawn wire.

His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his, his hands a sharp contrast to the freezing air. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it set you alight all the same. His thumb traced the corner of your mouth, lingering for a breath before he spoke.

“You’ll come home with me,” Aemond murmured, not a question, but a quiet, guaranteed statement.

You should have said something, taken a page out of Sara’s book and teased him, made him work for it. But your breath caught when he took a step closer, closing what little space remained between you.

The cab pulled up, but neither of you moved. Not yet.

Aemond’s fingers slid down, grazing your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He tilted his head, his lips hovering just above yours, so achingly close you could feel the heat of him. The white of your breaths mixing in the air like smoke.

“Tell me you want this.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his leather jacket, holding on like it was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling. Your heart pounded, a slow, aching thud.

“I want this,” you breathed.

Aemond’s smirk deepened, his thumb teasingly pressing harder on your throat.

“Good girl.”

And with that, he placed a hand firm at your back, guiding you into the cab, into the inevitable.

The elevator ride up to his place was a steamy blur of tension, the kind that buzzed under your skin and refused to let up like you were in a shower room and all you could see were shapes of body and heat.

Aemond was standing beside you the whole time, his towering presence taking up more space than it should, his hands hanging casually down by his sides as if he weren’t fully aware of the effect he had on you - or perhaps he was too aware.

Every bump of the elevator, every jostle of it going up, has his hand brushing against yours; the warmth of it tickling your skin like whispered promises. All while he stood there, every so often looking at you with a look in his eye, a hunger so deep you began to wonder if you were about to be his prey rather than his hook-up.

He was strange, you had assumed he’d jump on you the second he got you alone, pushing up against the rickety metal of the elevator and devour you whole. His tongue feasting on you each patch of flesh at a time.

The silence was muggy, a heat bubbling under the surface that was only broken by the gentle hum of the elevator. There was a need in you that could barely stop you from stealing glances at him. Eyes appreciating him in the stark light of the elevator, seeing him in this light, was completely different from the bar.

There was a delicious sense of want every time you smoothed your eyes over the faint curve of his lips, a pout that seemed permanently etched on his face in a way that made you want to see his lips move in any way that you could, or the way his skin had blemishes that didn’t take away from his beauty. Dozens of little moles and freckles dotted all over his face and neck, all of them you itched to trace your lips over.

It was suffocating, and you imaged if lust between you two had a smoke there would be a lavender haze filling the space; it was mind-numbing but also filled you with such a need that you were curious if there was a possibility of having him take you right against the metal walls.

If he felt the same, he hid it well, almost too well that a small insecure part of you wondered if he was merely playing a trick on you. That the pout you begged to kiss would sneer and tell you to leave, that you were stupid to follow him home.

You knew nothing of Aemond, just a few mumbled words between friends that he was elusive and rather hard to crack and that he was devastatingly gorgeous. But gorgeous men just shouldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be trusted.

When the doors eventually slid open to his home, the view hit you first. The entire far wall of his apartment was glass, lavished with a thick black blind at the top. It revealed the glittering Kings Landing skyline that stretched out infinitely beneath the night sky.

It was a renovated loft apartment, and it was truly a reflection of his style. Edgy yet inviting. Exposed brick and steel beams gave the space an industrial edge, softened by warm ambient lighting and plush furnishings. Worn walnut wood that was glaringly vintage, and sleek leather pieces tied the design together, everything looked lived in but not messy.

Deep forest green and royal blue textiles added a sense of depth and luxury that you didn’t think he’d care for with his taste in music. There was amusement bubbling in you at the carefully curated collection of music memorabilia adorned the shelves, nestled between well-loved books, with framed art, vinyl covers, and concert posters punctuating the walls in sleek black frames.

From your place at the door, you could see that he had a few guitars leaning on a rack by the window, a large turntable next to it that blended well with everything. Dozens of records lining the bottom, all in what seemed to be an organised fashion, it all somehow felt like an extension of him – calculated, precise, personal without giving too much away and just a touch intimidating.

It was enough to make you even forget for a second that he was with you by the door, “You like it?” he asked, his voice low like he didn’t want to disrupt your thoughts, but there was a glimmer of something in his tone.

“It’s... breathtaking,” you admitted, eyes flicking to him briefly, the words slipping out before you could even second guess them.

He was watching you back, his hand outstretched to dump his keys in a random bowl, his jacket draped casually over the back of his breakfast bar stool. Leaving him in just a fitted black shirt that did nothing to hide the sharp lines of his frame.

“It has its moments,” he said with a very hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, stepping closer as he came up to your side; his footsteps quiet yet deliberate and his hand hovering over the base of your spine. “Though I’d argue the view inside is even better tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint warmth flooding your face. “Bold, are we?”

“I’ve been accused of worse.” He hummed amused, the faint warmth of his presence brushing against your back, grounding you that he was real, “Take a seat, I want to talk to you about something.”

Your chest seized at his words, turning to face him fully. He still smelt delectable; smoky like incense and cigarettes and earthy like the dew on an oak tree, but there was an underlying sweetness to it, a drinkable sweetness, his proximity making your pulse quicken.

God, you wanted to lick his neck and taste him.

The tension between the two of you felt sharper now, like a taut string of one of his guitars waiting to snap. “Talk?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eye as his lips quivered with something at the corners.

"Yes, talk," he said with a faint drawl, his chin jugging in the direction of his couch, his tone teasing but with a seriousness that didn’t match the smirk tugging at his lips.

The loss of warmth as he stepped away from you felt wrong, his hand brushing against your back as he moved toward the leather sectional couch in the centre of the room. A worn and used, soft-looking blanket thrown over the back.

Your heart was still racing as you followed, an invisible string tugging you along with him. There wasn’t anything in you that was scared of him, but your eyes flickered around the space anyway. It all felt like a snapshot of a world he rarely let people into, and for a moment, you wondered how many others had stood where you were now.

Did he let people wear down his floorboards often or did he keep that door firmly locked?

As Aemond settled into the couch, you saw the same effortless confidence he carried everywhere else, one arm draped across the back, the other resting on his knee; his rings still shining in the low light, the sapphire eyes of the dragon head staring off to nothing on his middle finger.

It was faint but there was something under the surface of him, a nervousness that he was trying to hide, his fingers tapping against his knee before his pointer finger rubbed against the side of his thumb, something in his body calling to pick at the skin out of habit. He was fighting it though, a coolness of his face as he gestured to the seat beside him, his expression softening just enough to make the situation feel less intense than he was presenting it as.

You hesitated only a second before sitting, the leather cool beneath you.

"So," you said, tucking your legs under yourself and turning slightly to face him much to his amusement, "what exactly did you want to talk about?"

He leaned in slightly as he regarded you and got comfortable with you. Up close, the sharpness of his features was even more striking, the hard lines of his jaw that had your fingers twitching in the want to run across each hard line, memorising it for your memory bank.

The glint of something unreadable in his eye, and the faint scar that struct through the other one only seemed to enhance his magnetism. The scared eye was milky, not as vibrant as the other one, but it was still beautiful, the hint of blue that was still there, like cornflower petals in a milky bath.

“You know why you’re here, right?” he said softly, a faint fry to his voice with how quiet he was speaking to you; quiet but firm seemed to be the best way to sum him up.

You blinked at that, your stomach doing a flip at the soft intensity of his tone. “That sounds a little ominous,” you said, trying to keep your voice light despite the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, your fingers nervously picking at the fabric of your tights.

His lips twitched into a faint smirk as he regarded you, a soft tut from his pouted lips.

“Just answer the question,” he huffed softly, leaning back again into the corner of the couch casually, and observing you with that same measured intensity. “Do you know why you’re here”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, his demeanour casual but there was something else to it. “I’m under the assumption we’re going to sleep together, that’s all.”

Aemond’s smirk broadened at that but there was something behind it now, humour, sure, but also something sharper, something more intent. His fingers toying with the rings on his right hand, the subtle gleam of metal catching the dim light.

“Clever girl,” He purred softly, the clench in your stomach almost instant at his tone, “I want to lay some ground rules first.” His tone low and steady, carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken even more.

You arched a brow, refusing to be daunted by the intensity of his gaze, though your heart raced all the same. "Ground rules?” you countered; your voice softer now.

His eye flicked over your face, studying you with the same scrutiny that made you feel like he could see far deeper into you than you were comfortable with.

"I think you’ve gathered, I’m a rather… unconventional person," he admitted after a moment, his voice taking on a huskier edge, "I don’t exactly make a habit of bringing women home, for good reason."

You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded him. "Care to elaborate?"

Aemond’s smirk softened into something subtler, a faint curve of his lips that hinted at a side of him you weren’t sure he showed to many.

"I don’t mess around," he said simply his hand reaching out again to move some of your hair out the way, though there was a flicker of something darker in his tone. "If all I wanted was a warm body, I wouldn’t have brought you here, I would have fucked you in that bar and been done with you."

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and charged; the lust had developed into something more, something darker, but not something unsettling, dare you say it even furthered your interest. The air between you felt impossibly still, like when the forest went silent for a predator in its wake, waiting for what would come next.

"So, what is it, then?" you asked, your voice quieter now, your tone giving way to genuine curiosity. "Why am I here?"

His gaze was cast to your lips as his lips perked up into what you could call a smile, a small huff of air blowing out his nose as he scanned his way back to your eyes, “What if I told you I was into a little more... Intense things than a throwaway one night stand?”

The air between you seemed to thrum, your pulse quickening at his words. There was something deliberate in the way he said it, slow and measured, as though he was testing your reaction, gauging how far he could push before you might pull back.

You tilted your head, your curiosity was now undeniable. “Intense?” you echoed; your voice soft but steady. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, Aemond.”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, but his gaze remained fixed on yours, unflinching. “You’re such a precious little thing,” he murmured, his voice low, “and I can’t help but have a soft spot for tearing apart precious little things”

You blinked at that, both intrigued and slightly wary. “Meaning?”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a glint of something heated flashing in his eye. “Meaning,” he cooed softly, his voice carrying the faintest edge of a threat, though it was tempered by the unmistakable pull of desire in his tone. “I won’t play nice with you sweetheart; I want to make you cry… If you’ll let me of course”

There was a beat of silence that passed over the two of you at that, your heart thudding in your chest like a hammer on an anvil, the thrill of his words coursing through you as you tried to maintain your composure.

“I think I can handle that,” you replied with a gentle breath.

He leaned forward again, closing the space between you, his hand brushing against your knee with deliberate slowness. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone teasing but laced with something darker, something that made your skin tingle.

You swallowed hard, your gaze locked on his, the intensity in his words drawing you in even as they sent a shiver down your spine. “I guess you’ll have to show me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

For a moment, Aemond said nothing, his eye searching yours as though he were trying to unravel you, piece by piece. Then, with deliberate care, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Be sure you mean that, sweetheart, I’m not just going to hold you gently and hum into you like some soft puppy.”

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his lips so close, the weight of his words settling over you like a tangible thing. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone, nor the promise. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze sharp, unyielding, and entirely intoxicating. The warmth of his hand lingered on your knee, his touch deliberate but not overbearing, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

The room felt impossibly still, the quiet stretching between you both like a strong ready to snap. You tried to steady your breathing, though it felt like your lungs had forgotten how to work properly under the weight of his intensity.

“You seem sure that I’ll regret it,” you murmured, your voice low but steady.

Aemond’s lips curved into something resembling a smile, but it wasn’t soft - it was sharp, calculated, and laced with amusement.

“I’m not trying to rattle you,” he said, his voice a soft drawl that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m giving you the chance to leave if you wish.”

The meaning behind his words wasn’t lost on you, and yet you felt rooted in place, unable to walk away even if you wanted to. There was something about him, his presence, his mystery, the dark promise in his tone, that made it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

“And if I stay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the question carrying more weight than you intended, your noses brushing as you turned your head to look at him. The gaze was intense and heavy, the breaths being passed between you, sharing some kind of charged air.

Aemond leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and deliberate. “If you stay,” he whispered, “You need to tell me your safe word, baby.”

The words sent a thrill down your spine, your body caught between the undeniable pull of his presence and the weight of what he was suggesting. The way he said it - low, deliberate, almost tender, only added to the magnetic tension that wrapped itself around the two of you, binding you in place.

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching as you tried to form a coherent response. “Safe word?” you echoed, your voice barely more than a whisper, laced with curiosity and just a hint of nervousness.

He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression calm yet charged, like a predator toying with its prey. “I told you,” He said, his tone measured but firm, “I’m not like the men you’ve probably been with before. I need to know you’re prepared before we go any further.”

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. “And what happens if I don’t give you one?” you asked, a faint challenge in your tone, though your heart pounded in your chest.

Aemond’s lips twitched into a smirk, his thumb brushing lightly over your knee.

“Then you walk away,” he said simply, though his voice carried an edge that made it clear he wasn’t bluffing.

“Because this…” he gestured between the two of you, the space that felt like it was crackling with electricity “…isn’t something I take lightly. And neither should you.”

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to process the weight of his words. There was no denying the allure of him, the intoxicating pull that made you want to step into his world no matter how dangerous it might be. But there was also something comforting in his seriousness, in the way he framed this not as a game, but as something far more deliberate, far more intimate.

After a moment, you tilted your head, “Mercy,” you said softly, the word slipping from your lips with surprising ease. “That’s my safe word.”

Aemond’s smirk softened into something almost reverent, his hand sliding up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver through you. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

The praise, quiet and deliberate, settled over you like a blanket, making your pulse race in a way that was equal parts exhilarating and grounding. You barely had time to process it before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and far more intimate than you expected. It wasn’t rushed or demanding, it was a promise, one that made your stomach flip with anticipation.

It was a draw of lips together that felt matched, a soft click as they met again and again – a soft breath leaving you as you tried to push forward. He tasted like whatever he drank back at the bar, and faintly like the gum he spat out after his cigarette while the two of you got out of the cab.

The taste bleeding into your mouth as his tongue licked at your lip with a hum. Your hand was grasping at the one he had held at your neck and jaw, fingers brushing over his bracelets, his skin surprisingly warm for someone who looked like the outside would turn them to dust.

Behind it all was a need, a burning disgusting need, your lips parting for his tongue as he licked into your mouth; tickling at your soft palette and sucking softly at your tongue as you played back. He kept drawing you closer, breathing in every single breath he could, his teeth nipping at your lip every time your tongues hid.

When he pulled back, he let out a soft breath, his lips glossy, and his voice a low murmur. “There she is...”

The words hung in the air, weighty and inescapable, as if they sealed an unspoken pact between you. The faint brush of his breath against your lips sends another ripple of anticipation through you. The room seemed to shrink, the rest of the world fading into insignificance as Aemond's gaze held yours, his intensity making it impossible to look away.

It was like a magnet was pulling you back, your chin tilting to bring your mouths closer again but your lips didn’t meet, they only brushed and danced, breaths mixing as you held your gaze.

You breathed out softly, “What am I getting into?”

He only tutted softly, like you would a small child, his hand reaching to brush at your chin endearingly. Aemond studied you for a beat longer, his hand slipping from your cheek to trail down your arm, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you hyperaware of every inch of yourself.

“Stand up,” he said softly, his tone commanding but not harsh, as though testing your willingness to follow his lead.

You rose without hesitation, his gaze never leaving you as you stood in front of him, so close that the heat of his body warmed yours, his hand up coming to rest lightly on your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the area over your clothing.

“Take off your jacket,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

The simplicity of the command shouldn’t have felt as electrifying as it did, but with him, every word carried a weight that made your pulse quicken. You shrugged off your leather jacket, letting it slide from your shoulders and drop to the floor, your eyes never leaving his.

Aemond’s lips curved into a faint smirk, his eye flicking over you with an almost predatory focus. His hand led the way as he gestured toward the sleek couch. “Sit,” he said, his voice still calm, but with an edge that sent a thrill through you.

You did as he asked, the cool leather of the couch beneath you a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin. He remained sitting for a moment, watching you with that same unreadable look.

“This isn’t just about me,” he said, his voice breaking the charged silence. He turned back to you, his expression softer now, though no less intense. “If we’re going to do this, it has to be on my terms, but that doesn’t mean your voice doesn’t matter. Understand?”

You nodded, the seriousness of his tone grounding you, even as your anticipation built. “I understand.”

Aemond’s smirk returned as he reached for your face, his fingers brushing against your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your lower lip.

His smirk deepened, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he leaned in, his nose dragged softly against your cheek before his lips brushed against your ear. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low promise. “I’ll take good care of you.”

The air between you thickened as his words settled, wrapping around you like a velvet tether. Aemond’s hand lingered at the nape of your neck, his touch light but deliberate, his thumb idly brushing the sensitive skin there. He was in no rush, savouring the moment, drawing it out until you felt a need clawing at the back of your throat.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he said, his tone shifting slightly, the teasing edge replaced by something heavier, more serious, his body straightening so he was sitting tall in front of you, your neck craning to look up. He held out his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But the intensity in his gaze drew you in, and you found yourself placing your hand in his without a second thought. He drew you up with him and close to his body, the heat between you palpable as his head very slightly craned to whisper to you.

“There’s a door down that hall,” His head jutted to the corridor on the farther side of the apartment, turning off to what you could see was a series of doors, “First one just on the right, go inside and wait for me, hm?”

Your breath caught at the subtle command in his voice, the mixture of calm authority and deliberate softness sending a wave of anticipation through you. His hand remained steady around yours, grounding you as his gaze stayed fixed on yours, unwavering and unrelenting.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you murmured, “Okay.”

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eye but carried enough weight to leave you momentarily breathless. He released your hand, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary before falling to his side. He straightened, his expression calm but laced with a promise you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Good,” he said simply, his voice low. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

You turned, your legs carrying you toward the hallway he’d gestured to. Each step felt deliberate, the sound of your feet muffled against the sleek flooring. Your mind raced as you reached the first door on the right, your hand hesitating briefly on the handle. There was a flicker of nervous excitement bubbling in your chest, your heart hammering in anticipation. You pushed the door open.

The room was already dimly lit, the soft glow of wall sconces casting a golden hue over the space. The décor here mirrored the rest of the apartment: chaotically put together and understated, with a dark mood. The far wall was lined with more shelving that housed an assortment of neatly organised items; picture frames, polaroids, the odd camera, and books.

The room exuded the same calculated precision that seemed to define Aemond. It was surprisingly clean for a man’s room, but you expected nothing less from him.

You stepped inside, your fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe as you took it in. There was an intimacy to the space, a sense that this room was set apart from the rest of his world, reserved for something singular and private. Your feet padded against the wooden floor towards the plush-looking bed, the black sheets inviting as you sat carefully on the edge. Your breathing was steady but shallow, as you tried not to disturb the neatness of his room, sitting quietly as you turned to face the door, waiting.

It wasn’t long before you heard the soft sound of his footsteps approaching, unhurried but deliberate. The door opened again, and there he was, framed in the golden light. He wasted little time though, and closed the door behind him with a quiet click, his eye fixed on you as he stood by the door.

Aemond’s presence filled the room instantly, the air shifting with the weight of his heated gaze. He didn’t say a word at first, his eye tracing your form as you sat on the edge of the bed; staring at you like were about to disappear at any moment, your hands resting on your lap, fingers fidgeting slightly. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips as he pushed off the door, the sound of his feet soft against the floor in time with the thuds in your chest.

“Well, aren’t you just a pretty thing,” He hummed softly his voice low as he came to stand in front of you, smooth, and impossibly calm, “You’re nervous.”

Your head tilted up to look at him, your face level with his belt buckle as he looked down at you, his hand reaching out to gently caress your head.

His voice was a mere coo as he looked down his nose at you, “Don’t be. You don’t need to be.”

He was taking in your features in the low light of his room, his hand moving from your head to the side of your face, his thumb caressing the skin as he just merely observed you. His touch was warm and slightly rough from what you could imagine was years of guitar playing, the slight scratch on your cheek grounding you at the moment.

“Lay back for me, pretty girl,” He hummed comfortably, one of his knees coming up to rest by your hip as he pressed forward.

It was like your body was on autopilot, sinking back into the bed as your chin tilted up to look up at him; Aemond followed your movement with a slow, deliberate pace, his fingers trailing lightly over your collarbone as you leaned back onto your elbows, his hand skimming your neck like he wanted to grab and softly press back. Similar to the way you’d guide an animal.

The intimacy of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was the weight of his presence or your anticipation that made your breath hitch.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice smooth, laced with something that sent heat rushing through you. He climbed onto the bed with ease, his movements controlled and precise.

The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you felt his hand settle on your hip before sliding down your thigh to grab the plush skin, grounding you further into the soft fabric beneath. His gaze roamed over you, his lips curving into a smirk as he silently appraised you for listening to him. It wasn’t just his words or his touch, it was the way he looked at you like you were his and his alone in that moment.

"You’re being so good for me, baby," he began, his thumb brushing the fabric that covered your thigh, "Can I ask something of you?"

Your breath hitched again, the words catching in your throat before you could respond. His hand slid up your side, barely ghosting over your ribs and dragging the fabric of your shirt up with it, and you felt your heart pounding in your ears.

"Say something," he coaxed, his voice a quiet command as his head dipped lower, his lips barely brushing against your ear. "Or I'll have to guess…"

The closeness of him was intoxicating, and as his fingers played at the hem of your shirt, the pad of his thumb just brushed the skin underneath with a burning intensity that didn’t match the soft action. When you finally found your voice, it was quiet, almost timid, but it was enough to satisfy him.

"Okay," you whispered, your gaze flickering to his face. The corners of his mouth twitched, amusement dancing in his single, stormy eye.

"I want to remember you, baby, can I ask you do to something for me?" His voice was breathy, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your hip like he was trying to keep you as close as possible like you’d ever run away. "Let me film you..."

The air in the room seemed to shift at his words, the weight of his request hanging between you on a delicate thread threatening to snap. You could feel your eyes widen slightly as your brain worked overtime to process what he’d said, your breath catching in your throat. His gaze stayed locked on yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

"Only if you’re okay with it," Aemond added, his voice softer now, almost tender. The hand on your hip loosened its grip, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin. "The way you look right now, baby, I think you’d be so pretty for me on camera..."

Your heart raced, not just from the intensity of the moment but from the vulnerability in his words. It wasn’t just desire in his eye, it was something deeper, something that made your chest tighten and your resolve falter. He wasn’t just asking for control; he was asking for trust.

"I..." Your voice came out shaky, and you swallowed hard before trying again. "I’ve never…"

"That’s okay," he interrupted gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His touch was warm, and grounding. "I’ll take care of you, baby, if it’s too much, just say your word, and we stop. It stays between us."

The sincerity in his tone eased the knot in your stomach, and after a moment, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you said, your voice steadier this time. "I trust you."

This could potentially be a huge mistake, placing this amount of trust and intimacy in someone you’d only met tonight; but there was something about Aemond that just called to you. Made you forget yourself, and want to indulge yourself more in his hardened image.

His smirk softened into something closer to a smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary. "Good girl, he murmured, his lips brushing against yours teasingly. "You’re perfect."

With his assurance, he shifted slightly, reaching over to his nightstand, his hand blinding opening one of the drawers to pull out a small but expensive-looking vintage camcorder. It almost looked like a relic of the '90s, but it seemed fitting, just like everything else about him. He was knelt on his knees between your open legs as he fiddled with the gadget.

Aemond handled the camcorder with surprising care, checking the settings like he’d done this a dozen times before the faint whir of the tape winding filled the air, a nostalgic sound that somehow made the moment feel even more intimate. The blinking redlight told you that it was capturing everything that was going on.

Aemond glanced back at you, his eye gleaming like molten steel beneath the dim light. His long, platinum hair, messy from the gig, fell over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice steady as before but with an edge to it that told you that he was taking your feelings into consideration. "If it’s too much, we stop. No bullshit. No pressure."

"I’m sure," you replied, the words carrying more confidence than you expected. You met his gaze, letting him see the truth in your eyes.

Aemond nodded, his lips curving into that familiar smirk again. "Good girl," he said, his tone low and full of praise as he adjusted his position on the bed leaning over and angling the camera just right to sit on the nightstand. "Just keep looking at me, baby. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just you and me."

And with that, Aemond leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as demanding as it was gentle like he wanted to claim every piece of you. There was something delicious about the way his lips coaxed yours, the way he commanded each smack of your lips with a gentle flick of his tongue; teasing you. The world outside the room faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of your breath and the overwhelming heat of him as he pulled you closer.

The kiss deepened, Aemond's lips moving against yours with a passion that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid to the nape of your neck sliding into your hair and tilting your head back slightly as he explored every inch of your mouth. It was a slow but consuming kiss, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece. A soft moan escaped you as his tongue tickled at the roof of your mouth, one you couldn’t quite suppress, and you felt him smile against your lips, a faint chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

"Cute," he murmured with a nip at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough for you to catch your breath. His eye roamed your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your lip shone in the low light of his room, the way your lips parted slightly, and the addictively dazed look in your eyes. "Even prettier like this."

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he was leaning in again, his lips trailing a line of soft kisses along your jaw, his breath skimming your skin down to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a shiver through you, and his grip on your thigh tightened as though he felt it rack through you.

"Aemond..." you breathed, a slight whine to your voice as your hips pushed softly up against his, the feeling of his length through his jeans, not enough friction for you to feel remotely content.

Your voice, trembling and needy, seemed to burn something in Aemond. His lips paused at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. A low, pleased noise rumbled from his chest as his fingers dug into your thigh, grounding you beneath him and pulling you further into his body.

"You’re something else," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough like a low guitar riff, the heat of his breath fanning against your skin. "So eager for me, aren’t you?"

His murmured words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and you felt your body instinctively arch into his touch. He didn't stop his lips, however, as they continued their exploration, kissing and nipping down the column of your throat, marking a path that made your pulse race.

When his lips met the hollow of your throat, he paused, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His gaze burning with an intensity that coiled something in your stomach; a mix of desire and something more, something deeper. Your body felt like it was on fire as his fingers traced up the inside of your leg, his middle finger toying with the leg of your shorts. Dipping in teasingly as he smirked amused by your squirming.

“Will you be good for me baby?” He nosed at your jaw softly, tilting your head up like a dog would as he spoke against the bone, this thumb joining the action to stroke the little pudge of fat you had at the top of your thigh as he did; your core clenching in anticipation with his proximity.

If you could see the air between the two of you, you imagined it looked like something struck hot metal; sparks snapping and crackling. He was something addictive that you weren’t sure you’d ever want to give up as every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch, his voice, the intoxicating weight of his presence.

You could feel Aemond's smirk against your skin as it widened, your breath coming faster, your chest rising and falling beneath his touch. His thumb continued its maddeningly slow strokes, brushing against your skin just enough to tease without giving you the relief you craved.

"I asked you a question, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dripping with a dark amusement as his lips hovered over your jawline, leaving a snapping kiss that felt like a tease more than a relief. "Will you be good for me? Or do I need to coax the answer out of you?"

The rasp in his tone sent another wave of heat rushing through you. Your hands instinctively clutched at his shirt, fingers gripping the soft fabric like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat before you managed a quiet whimper: "I’ll be good."

"That’s what I like to hear, baby…" he purred, his hand sliding further up your thigh, past your core and to the waistband of your shorts, his touch deliberate but still torturously slow as he gave them a teasing tug.

"Look at you," he continued as he pulled back, his tone low and rough. "So desperate, so perfect... all for me." His thumb pressed lightly into the skin above the waistband, and the pressure made your hips buck involuntarily into his bulge, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He chuckled giving a teasing push of his hips against your core, the feeling enough to make you want to wrap your legs around him and rut like an animal. But it was a deep, throaty sound that vibrated against your skin and gave you a slight pause as he moved his lips back to yours, leaving a few biting kisses on your lips like he was trying to placate you.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his free hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward his. "I’ll give you what you need, but I want to savour you first."

At that, Aemond pulled back slightly to sit back on his knees between your open legs, as he studied your face. His gaze sharp and alight with a mix of lust and authority. His hands trailed down your body, deliberately slow, fingers grazing over your waist before settling back on your thigh giving a reassuring squeeze. The weight of his touch was grounding, even as his words sent a shiver through you.

"Take this off for me," he commanded softly, tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. His voice was low, carrying the same deep rasp that sent your heart racing, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath his tone.

Your breath caught in your throat as his words registered. He rolled off to the side of you, his body leaning back with his elbow on the mattress as he expected to take place standing at the edge of the bed, clearly intending to watch. His smirk deepened as he reached for the camcorder, angling it slightly to capture the moment.

"I want to see all of you," he continued his voice a purr; soft and low like he was trying not to interrupt the scene. "Slowly, baby. Let me enjoy it."

The air between you crackled with tension and heat as you got up, your legs trembling from lust as you stood between his parted legs. It was nerve-wracking, looking down at him and the blinking red light, his gaze rolling over your form hungrily.

Your hands trembled as they gripped the hem of your shirt, Aemond’s gaze and the camcorder burning into you; unwavering and unrelenting. He was memorising every move you made.

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his intense scrutiny, however, the heat in his gaze was reassuring, grounding you in a way that made your nerves fade into the background. Slowly, you lifted the fabric, revealing more of your skin inch by inch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as the shirt finally cleared your head, your hair fluffing around you as you dropped the fabric off to the side like it was nothing. He let out a low hum of approval at the sight of your bare chest, the shirt you wore to his gig not built for wearing a bra under it.

His room wasn’t the warmest in the world as you felt your nipples pebble with the cooler air, and the look of his eyes feasting on each piece of skin you showed. He was laid out like a Greek god and you were his water nymph he was playing with; one of his legs bent on the bed to rest his foot on the edge, widening his stance. All in an attempt to ease some pressure from his erection.

"Good girl," he murmured, his eye raking over you with unfiltered hunger, his hand surprisingly steady with the camera as he let one hand go to palm himself, a flush blooming over your chest and cheeks from the action. "Now the rest for me, nice and slow."

His words, paired with the way he sat back like he had all the time in the world, sent a blooming heat through you. Your hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, emboldened by his words as you caressed your skin on the way, unbuttoning them with deliberate slowness as you followed his command. Each movement felt like a performance under his intense gaze, the weight of his attention making your heart pound harder.

“Look at you, baby,” He sang softly, appreciating you as the shorts slid down your legs and onto the floor, you stood there, bare save for your underwear and tights, feeling simultaneously exposed and powerful under his gaze. “Putting on a show just for me…”

"Perfect," he said softly, almost to himself, before tilting his head to get a better look at you, his platinum hair falling over his shoulder. "The rest of it too, baby, turn around and show me…”

You swallowed thickly at that, the low rasp of his voice sending shivers down your spine as your nipples only pebbled more at his tone. Aemond’s gaze never wavered from your body, his intensity a weight in your chest that kept grounding you in the moment.

You gnawed softly at your lip, hesitating for only a moment before spinning slowly on your toes, letting him drink in every exposed movement. The stillness of the room let you hear his sharp inhale, which was low but unmistakable, a subtle confirmation that he liked every inch of what he saw.

His gaze burned as it followed the curve of your back, your hands moving to the waistband of your tights as he asked. Your body rolled down with them, giving a little wiggle to your hips, as your hands worked on sliding them down inch by inch. The fabric clung to your legs before pooling at your ankles, kicked off to the side and leaving you bare but for the thin piece of cotton that clung to your hips.

As you straightened, your heart hammered in your chest anxious to make sure you were doing good for him, your lip still between your teeth as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

Aemond’s lips parted slightly from behind the camera, his tongue darting out to wet them again like he was restraining himself. "Turn back around, baby…" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the barest hint of a growl behind his words.

You obeyed, slowly turning to face him, your hands instinctively moving to rest at your sides. His gaze roamed over you, lingering at your hips, the lines of your legs, rolling back up over your chest, and finally returning to your face. His smirk deepened, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in satisfaction.

His gaze didn’t waver as he reached out to place the camera off to the side, the red light moving like a star in the sky as he rested it just out of reach but you had no doubt it still had the two of you in view. He didn’t need to say another word in the moment as he held his hand out to beckon you closer, your legs hitting the edge of the bed as his hand rested on your hip, guiding you closer with deliberate slowness.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a low purr as he leaned back further, his back hitting the sheet this time, spreading his legs just enough to make space for you. "Climb up, baby. I want you right here."

Your heart thundered in your chest as you obeyed, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm but not restrictive as you settled into his lap.

The feel of his denim-clad legs beneath you was rough, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch as his thumbs began tracing slow circles on your skin. He was hard as a rock as he tugged you forward slightly, resting your core over that hardness as you squirmed. Your hands rested softly on his hips for balance as you gazed down at him. His belt buckle was cool even through the thin material of your panties, every breath feeling like it was nudging you further into the cold metal as you fought a small whine that was building in your throat.

"You look so good like this, baby…" Aemond said, his gaze locking onto yours, the hunger in it making you feel like the only person in the world. "So fucking beautiful."

Heat pooled in your stomach as his words wrapped around you, his praise making you feel bolder despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. Your hands moved to rest on his waist, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his tee. His smirk deepened as he felt each little squirm of your hips, the scent of leather and faint cologne wrapping around you like a second skin.

"Move for me," he coaxed, his voice a quiet demand that left no room for argument. His hands guided your hips gently, encouraging you to rock against him, the friction sparking a delicious heat between your bodies. "Just like that, baby. Let me see how good you feel."

A soft moan escaped your lips as you followed his lead, your movements tentative at first but growing bolder as his hands steadied you. The way he looked at you like you were a melody he wanted to memorise, only spurred you on.

"That’s it," he praised, his tone dropping lower, rougher, as his lips brushed against your ear. "You’re perfect, baby, every fucking inch of you."

His fingers slipped higher, grasping the plush of your hips as he pulled you closer, his hips pressing up slightly to meet your movements, a soft moan spilling out your lips as the rough denim of his jeans scraped against the soft crotch of your panties; kissing your clit so deliciously you could help but push back harder, desperate for some friction. His grin turned almost wicked, his voice dropping to a growl as he added, "Let me see all of you, baby."

Aemond’s words curled around you, igniting a fire in your chest that burned and tore through you with every passing second. His eye flicked down to where your bodies moved in rhythm before meeting your gaze again, the intensity in his expression making you feel both vulnerable and unstoppable.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding your movements with more purpose. The rough fabric of his jeans against your core only added to the sensation, the friction sparking a need that seemed to consume every thought in your head as soft little moans spilt from your lips.

You tilted your head back at the feeling, your hips moving on their own as he leaned back on the bed, looking up at you with a dark look as he watched you take your pleasure. It was going to be enough to make you cum at this rate, the hardened feel of his length pushing against you and the jeans making the crotch of your panties slicker and slicker as you practically humped him like an animal in heat. He has the smuggest look on his face as your eyes fluttered softly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip trying to focus on that burning pleasure between your legs.

"Aemond," you whimpered as your eyes fluttered shut, fingers grasping tighter into the fabric of his shirt, the sound of his name on your lips sending a visible shiver through him.

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hands moving up to cradle your waist as his hips rolled up to meet yours. "Say it again," he demanded softly, his voice like velvet in your ears, "I want to hear you."

"Aemond," you repeated, louder this time, your voice trembling with pathetic whine, the weight of everything you felt in that moment crushing at your chest.

He could only coo at you softly as if your desperation was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard. His lips were carved into a permanent smirk, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your core tighten.

"Look you at you," He cooed, his hands gliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing against the soft skin beneath your ribs appreciatively. "Humping at me like a little bunny."

Your hips bucked instinctively at that, a quiver in your movement as his words settled into you, the friction sending sparks shooting through your body as a needy moan slipped past your lips.

"Aemond," you whimpered again, the sound more like a plea now, your head tilting back as the pleasure coursed through you in waves.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled, his hands tightening their grip on you as he rolled his hips up harder, matching your rhythm perfectly. The sensation was almost too much, the rough denim of his jeans and the wet fabric of your panties creating a torturous friction that had you trembling begging for more. "Do you like that baby, being called bunny?"

Your breath hitched at his question, your movements faltering for a moment as his words wrapped around you. The pet name, soft and teasing, sent a new wave of heat rushing through you, making your cheeks flush. You nodded, unable to form words, your hips resuming their desperate grind against him as your hands fisted tighter in his shirt.

Aemond chuckled, the sound deep and vibrating against your chest as he leaned up, his torso meeting yours, his lips brushing against your ear. "I think you do," he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "My little bunny, so desperate for me, aren’t you?"

"Yes," you gasped, the confession spilling from your lips without hesitation, your body moving instinctively in search of more of the delicious friction. Your head tilted back again, exposing the length of your neck to him, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His lips found the sensitive skin there, pressing kisses that were both soft and possessive, his teeth grazing lightly before sucking a mark into your skin.

"My sweet little bunny," he praised, his voice muffled against your neck as his hands gripped your waist tighter, guiding your movements. His hips rolled up to meet yours with each grind, and the pressure against your core sent sparks shooting through you, each one more intense than the last.

You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt the tension building in your stomach, the heat coiling tighter with every pass of your hips over his. "Aemond," you breathed, your voice trembling as you clung to him desperately, your body trembling from the effort of holding on to the edge.

"That’s it, bunny," he coaxed, his tone both commanding and tender as his eye locked onto yours. His smirk softened, replaced by something almost reverent as he watched you come undone above him. "Let go for me, show me how good you can be…"

His words stupidly pushed you over the edge, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the burning tension in your stomach snapped and a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your body shuddered against his, the feeling of your walls fluttering around nothing and your movements faltering as you buried your face in his neck, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Aemond’s hands never left you, steadying you through each shiver of your body, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple. "There you go," he murmured, his voice soothing as he ran a hand up and down your back. "That’s my good girl."

You felt his grin against your skin as his fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties, a teasing edge to his tone as he added, "But we’re not done yet, bunny. I want all of you."

As you slumped against him, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your release, Aemond's arms tightened around you, holding you securely in his lap. His breath was warm against your temple, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pressed a lingering kiss to your hair. The room felt hotter, like someone had turned up the heat as you nuzzled pathetically against him, a gentle needy kiss being pressed to his jaw as you sought out his comfort. Something in his position had you sinking into a different side of yourself, ready and willing to be taken care of by him.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an undercurrent of need that made your heart stutter. His hands slid down to your hips again, a pat on this skin as he held you steady, leaning back slightly and scanning your face. "But now it’s my turn, bunny”

The heat in his voice sent another rush of anticipation through you, even as your body felt boneless and pliant in his hands. Aemond’s hands slid up your sides, his touch firm yet tender as he guided you to kneel on the bed.

"Good girl," he praised, his gaze burned into yours, filled with a mix of affection and hunger as he reached for the button of his jeans. "Come on, bunny. I want you to do the honours."

"Stay just like that," he instructed, his voice low and commanding, the dark edge of it sending a thrill down your spine. He moved off the bed, the mattress dipping slightly as he moved to stand at the edge, the camcorder now firmly in his grip. His eye roamed over your form, appreciation burning in his gaze as he adjusted the angle of the lens to frame you perfectly.

As you helped him shimmy out of his jeans the fabric resting at the middle of his thigh, the bulge beneath his boxers became impossible to ignore. He was bigger than you thought, and you’d already humped yourself silly on him, his black boxers did nothing to hide that he was bigger than you’d taken before, thicker too as you spotted a small wet patch on the fabric from where he was clearly leaking. Your gaze flickered up to meet his as you spotted it, and the smirk that curved his lips made your cheeks burn with equal parts excitement and shyness.

"Don’t get shy on me now," Aemond teased; his voice a low purr as he guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, your hand skimming past his length. "You’ve been so good for me, bunny. Show me how much you want to keep being good."

Swallowing hard your fingers curled into the elastic of the waistband, and with a breath you tugged the fabric down, freeing him from the confines of his boxers. The sight of him, hard and already glistening with evidence of his arousal, made your breath hitch. He was too heavy to stand attention, the sigh of his hanging between his thighs had your core burning even more as you imagined how exactly it was going to feel to take it. Aemond groaned softly as the cool air hit him, trying his best to keep the camera steady as he pointed it down at you.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Now, come here."

Your cheeks flushed, the weight of his gaze, and the camera lens and the red light, made you feel exposed in a way that was both thrilling and intoxicating. You shifted on your knees, leaning forward slightly, your body arching instinctively to give him a better view as you looked up at him.

"You can touch bunny," he growled against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Show me how good you can be for me."

Aemond groaned as you watched your hand hesitantly come up to grasp him. He was heavy in your palm, your fingers barely meeting as you gave him an experimental tug, the skin silky smooth as you looked at him properly; he was unfairly pretty down there, his head flushed the same colour as his lips as you spotted small droplets weeping from the tip.

You could tell that he was letting you take the wheel on this one, his gaze and the camera staring down at you as you softly started moving your wrist over him. He let out a soft groan at that, your eyes blinking up at him for any sort of praise as you did, the tears from his slit sliding down with each stroke aided in the movement – lubricating each tug as his breathing picked up slightly.

"Good girl," he praised, the words a growl as he pushed his hips closer, the camcorder capturing every inch of you while he did. “You can taste, bunny, I know you want to.”

And boy did you want to.

The red light recording you became just another part of your vision as you kept eye contact with the lens, your lips parting slightly to place a soft kiss on his weeping tip – the groan that he let out at the contact was almost enough to have your eyes rolling slightly but you held it together. There wasn’t any other thought in your head at that moment, your mind focused purely on hearing that noise again. Aemond seemed to be enjoying the simplest of touches, his breathing picking up softly at your tongue flicked out to lick softly at his tip.

"Fuck," he breathed out quietly, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head as you pressed a soft kiss to his tip, his fingers sinking into your hair as he tugged your head forward a little more; a small giggle passing your lips as you kept your eyes on him, "You’re going to put me in an early grave, bunny."

With head soft tug of your hair, you could tell that he was coaxing you to take him in your mouth, the feel of his pre-cum making your lips glossy in a way that had his face flushing with want behind the camera. The feeling of erotic, and despite being unsure to begin with, you’d never felt more wanted by someone at that moment, that’s why you had no issue parting your lips for him and slowly sinking him into the wet heat of your mouth. A soft moan passed your lips as his musky taste hit your tongue, and the silky-smooth skin glided him in as far as you could handle; a soft gagging sound slipping out as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“That’s it…” He groaned out softly, his fingers quivering in your hair as you gave a soft suck, your cheeks hollowing out and your tongue lavishing his length as you pulled your head back, “Pretty, pretty girl…” He said as the camera angled more towards your mouth.

You could hear the sound of the camera zooming in as you kept moving slowly up and down his length. A soft gagging sound every time he hit the back of your throat drowned out by the sound of his breathing and airy moans, your hand stroking what couldn’t fit. You imagined it was an erotic sight, made even more by the fact he was filming everything like you were some video vixen.

“So, fucking good bun,” He moaned softly, unashamed at any noises spilling out that pout, his hand tightening in your hair to get you to speed up slightly. “Taking me in your mouth like a good girl…”

Every time you sank down, he held you there a little longer, your nose nearly touching the base as you gagged around him. His teeth grit at the feeling, the wet cavern of your mouth doing wonders for him, made all the better by the drool dribbling out the corners of our mouth. He wasn't forcing you down though, you could still move away if you wanted to, and every time you pulled back you panted softly for air. Your lips kissing softly at his tip while you caught your breath.

When he pulled you back in, you could tell there was an air of something desperate about him as he groaned a bit louder, sinking in and out of your mouth with more intent, more purpose. His hand tugged more at your hair as he began to move you more and more.

“Let me fuck that mouth, bun,” He panted softly, his stomach tensing every so often like he was holding something back, your eyes glazed and looking up at him. “Will you?” He asked breathily like he was whispering to the sick part of your brain directly.

From everything that had happened so far, you knew that you were safe with him and that he wouldn’t hurt you, and the sick part of your brain was ready to give everything up for him and just let him use you how he wanted. At your lack of answer, he pulled you off him, a soft pop as he slid out of your mouth, his free hand moving to wipe the drool off your chin.

“Bunny,” He murmured, tilting your chin farther up – his body leaning away from you for a second to place the camera back on the nightstand, “You with me?”

You could only nod, a small smile on your face, “I am, sorry… I was just thinking.”

“Thinking?” He smirked softly, tapping your chin affectionately, “Is my cock not pleasing enough to you, bunny?”

The flush on your face burned harder at that, your teeth nibbling at your lip as you tried to look away – a bit embarrassed to be caught so in your head at the stupidest of times. He was all over you, his taste in your mouth, his touch on your skin – it was addicting, to say the least. He was too beautiful, and that needy voice in your head begged, pleaded and cried to just let him have you any and all ways.

“I want you to fuck my mouth,” You mumbled softly, a shy twinge to your voice like you were ashamed to even be admitting that you wanted it, blinking at him like you could communicate with just your eyes.

“What do we say when we want something, bunny?” He smirked, his hand grasping your chin a bit tighter as he bent at the waist to level with you, looking down his nose at you, “Use your big girl words now, I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

The desperation and the humiliation clawed at your throat, the burning between your legs leaving you stupidly uncomfortable, your thighs squeezing together on the bed to try and ease that feeling.

“Please,” Your voice was little, barely there, like the words were just another breath out but he wasn’t having that, his hand tightening again as his eyebrow raised silently. “Aemond, please…” The desperation crawled out your mouth in the form of a whimper, pathetic and needy like yourself as it spilt out.

The tut that left his lips was humiliating, something you’d do at a pet that was misbehaving or you were displeased with, his thumb brushing against your skin tauntingly as he gazed at you, “That wasn’t so hard now was it, bunny?”

The fact all of this was on camera didn’t help either, the red light on the nightstand taunting you from the corner of your eye.

“Sweet little thing,” He patronised you softly, craning your head up as far as it could go as his hand squeezed your mouth open, lips parting with a soft breath, “You need to be good and ask for things, bunny…”

The word sorry died on your tongue as you looked at him, he didn’t want your words right now.

“I’ll use that pretty mouth of yours,” He cooed, the words filled with taunt and want equally as he looked at you amused, “Open your mouth wider for me.”

If he told you to jump off a cliff right now, you believed that you would, your mouth opening wider under his hold with a slight “Ah” noise.

The amusement danced in his gaze at that, “Tongue too, bunny…”

He let out a soft hum as your tongue peaked out of your mouth, appreciative that you could in fact listen to him, his head leaning down closer to you as his gaze shifted from your eye to your open mouth.

“Keep it nice and wide,” He breathed softly, a subtle squeeze to your jaw pinching it just ever so slightly wider as he hovered over the open cavern, “There we go…”

You could already tell what he was going to do before he even spoke, his tongue rolling in his cheek slightly with a dark look, his lips pursing softly. Time stopped in that moment though, as you watched a glob of spit drip from his mouth to yours, the feeling viscous and wet on your tongue as you moaned out from your open mouth. He could only quirk his mouth at that as he stood back to full height, hishands reaching to shed his shirt.

“Keep that there, bunny,” He commanded softly as his free hand grasped his cock again, giving it a little tug for good measure before it hovered near your mouth, “You’ll get what you want.”

“If you need to breathe or you want me to stop, pinch my thigh, bunny,” He directed gruffly, his tip skimming your lips as you let out a noise of understanding, “Relax for me.”

Your hand flew to brace itself on his thigh as he slid back into your mouth, both of his hands moving to sink into the back of your hair as your lips sealed back around him. The moan he let out was euphoric as his head tilted back slightly, his hair shaking softly down his back as his hips sawed back before pushing forward. The gag was stronger this time as each thrust left his tip kissing the back of your throat, the slick suckling noises filling the space as he moved freely in and out of your mouth at his own pace.

The groans and moans he let out with each thrust were beautiful, you’d never been with such a vocal man before, and he was letting you know it was enough every second of it as you sucked harder around him. He had left you were a free hand of your own, the one that was bracing on his thigh grasping his skin tightly as he used your mouth with abandon, your free one was yours to do as you pleased.

The panties you were wearing were thoroughly soaked through, the gusset of them just a sop of fabric you were wearing as the burning increased, your eyes flicking up to his tilting head as you caressed your thigh and upwards.

With your moans picking up, each wet stroke of your fingers combined with the increased thrusting into your mouth, it was no given that Aemond was curious about what you were doing. His head tilted back to look at you with a stupidly amused look, a smirk painting his lips as he continued to patronise you.

“Filthy little thing,” He chuckled through a moan, his eyebrows raised slightly with pleasure as his lips parted watching you touch yourself while he used your mouth, “I’ll allow it for now.”

He seemed to enjoy the moan that vibrated around him, a groan of his own passing his lips as your hand sunk into your panties. It took microseconds to slide your fingers over your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts to ease the pleasure burning between your thighs.

“Good girl…” He breathed, his hips moving a bit quicker into your mouth as you touched yourself, your eyes shut as you focused on the stimulation of your mouth and your fingers, “You like that, bun?” He chuckled faintly.

“I bet you do…” He hummed, his fingers tightening in your hair starting to move your head how he wanted a bit more.

And boy, did you.

While your fingers weren’t pushing you towards another peak, they were turning this experience into something so filthy that you were sure you’d dream of it for years to come. The feeling of drool dripping down your throat, and your eyes watering as you gazed up at him. He was so invested in your mouth, his grunt and hisses tickling your brain as he met your eyes. A filthy smile on his lips as he sped up slightly, his eyebrows pulling with feeling.

“Will you let me cum in your mouth, baby?” He breathed out, the sound so airy that you barely caught it.

With your mouth a little preoccupied, all you could do was moan around him needily, the thought of him filling your mouth had you fluttered around nothing. Your fingers picked up with his hips as he forced himself more and more into your mouth, the gagging noise getting louder as his tip kept kissing your throat.

He gave you some reprieve as he pulled you off him slightly, your chest heaving and mouth swollen while you gave you a second to breathe. Your lips glossy with his precum as you looked up at him with heavy eyes. The moment was over before it could begin as he sunk back into your mouth, his hand moving off your head for a moment to brush a tear away from your watery eyes before getting back to it.

His stomach was clenching right before your eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of your mouth, his grunts getting breathless and needy. You were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure but you loved every second of his, your finger on your clit basically forgotten as you worked on suckling and lavishing your tongue over him.

His noises were getting louder and louder, his own eyes shut with a twist on his face; he was truly beautiful like this, “Fuck, baby…”

You would have giggled if he wasn’t filling your airways, the feel and taste of his precum stronger as he leaked into your mouth.

You could have stared at him for hours, sat with his cock in your mouth for the rest of time if I meant seeing him like this, but fate was cruel in its own ways.

The subtle tightening in your hair told you what was going to happen before it could, his hips snapping a few more times before he hissed loudly.

“Fuck.” He practically snapped, a final moan coming from you as he filled your mouth.

It sent your eyes rolling slightly as he landed in your mouth, some of his cum slipping down your throat and most of it on your tongue as he drew his cock out of your lips. His hand instantly flew to your jaw with a feral look in his eye to keep your mouth open.

He softly squeezed at the bone to keep it propped open as his lips parted, a soft chuckle coming out as he watched you roll his spend on your tongue slightly.

“Look at you…” He smirked softly, his hand forcing your head up more, “So pretty with me in your mouth…”

He placed a knee on the bed to get closer to your level, his body curling over yours as you smiled slightly, sticking your tongue further out for him to see what lay there. You were sure you looked a mess, spit on your chin and tears down your face, your lips throbbing slightly from use. But none of it mattered in that moment if it meant he kept looking at you like he was.

“Messy…” He chuckled with his lips hovering over yours, glancing between your eyes and mouth before his lips curled.

An honest shocked noise slipped out as his lips met yours, eyes slipping shut with a moan as his tongue slipped into your mouth; curling around yours and his spend as you swallowed some of it. It was disgustingly hot the way your lips met, the taste of him passing between the two of you as he laughed against your mouth, something feral bleeding into the tone as you rose up onto your knees with him.

Holding yourself up with his waist, the two of you exchanged spit and kisses with wet noises that would make anyone burst into flames. The kiss was intense with something so hot that you were surprised when he pressed forward, his arm slipping around your waist to tumble you both onto the best. Hands grabbing at skin, his own sliding into the back of your underwear to start shoving it down.

“Off.” He grunted with a bite to your lip, leaving no room for argument.

It was a haste to let go of him, his hands aiding yours to shove the offensive fabric down, caring little where they landed as they got pushed down your thighs and kicked off your foot. His hand was harsh on your thigh as yours sank into his hair, tugging with intent as he grunted into your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation for the tug.

Both of you were panting as you pulled apart, his eye dark as he looked at you flush and laid out in his sheets. His hand squeezing your thigh slightly with a tut, as he looked between you and the middle of the bed, a silent command to move.

You’d laugh at the power he had over you if you didn’t do what he said instantly.

It was like there was something lodged in your throat as you crawled backwards on his sheets, the softness against your skin doing nothing to ease the heat rising in you as he pressed and pressed you back – your body laying out like his own personal buffet. He was quick to secure your knees in his hands as he knelt between your parted legs, whistling lowly, mockingly, as he glanced down at your wet folds. Staring like he currently wasn’t standing at full mast.

“Poor thing…” He drawled with an amused smile twitching at his lips, his palms rough and warm against your thighs as they brushed up, the silver of his rings warmed to his skin, “So needy and for what? You couldn’t even get yourself off…”

The whine that bubbled in your throat with his teasing was pathetic, akin to a wounded animal as he jested at your dismissed orgasm. You ached so badly to close your thighs and relieve the fading burn, uncomfortable with the cool breeze hitting your wetness like a kiss from winter.

“I was playing so nice with you, bun…” He tutted softly, one of his hands letting go of your thigh to brace himself by your shoulder, sinking into the mattress as he hovered over you with a look that you could only describe as hungry. “But you got greedy, didn’t you?”

His eyebrow twitched at you as he repeated himself, your eyes gazing up at him, a soft sheen in your eyes as your frustration built, “Didn’t you, baby?”

He chuckled softly as your face twisted in discomfort, a crackle in your voice as you found the courage to reply, “Aemond…”

Oh, it was a desperate whine.

Oh, how he ate it up.

His chuckle was more of a taunt as he pressed his body closer to yours, skin warm as it touched, his nose drawing over your jawline as he breathed you in. Your own eyes fluttered as the caress of his warm breath, your core clenching as one of his hands dragged up your thigh, fingers edging its innermost parts like he would the frets of his guitar.

“Now, now…” He hums softly, laying a soft kiss on your jaw, chuckling as he drags his lips down your neck, more soft kisses being pressed every so often, “Ask nicely, and I’ll give in to your greed…”

His fingers brushed your inner thigh like a whisper, moving just enough to feel the texture as they ghosted up, palm spanning the skin.

Your breathing was shaky in its own right, your own hands drawing up his sides and to his back, feeling him properly as he played with you, your breath moving the soft hairs by his temple.

“Please,” You swallowed thicky, your nails sinking into his skin, “Aemond, please…”

Part of you wondered if maybe he was summoned from whatever lustful circle of hell demons resided, his touch closer to feeling like you were falling over the edge as he held you over it by a string.

“Good girl…” He hummed warmly, his teeth nipping at your neck in retaliation for the grab, his tongue swiping over the skin to soothe his bite, “You make everything so hard for yourself…”

If you hadn’t already laid your sins out bare for him to pluck at, to video, you’d be utterly ashamed of yourself at the way you keened when his fingers slid over your folds. An amused noise passed his lips on your neck as he drew up the same way someone would turn the pages of a book. Delicately, with the purpose of knowing what else there was on the next page.

His lips were as sinful as his hands as he laid kiss after kiss on your neck, biting with what would be violets blooming on your skin. The ache of the bite caused your head to drop back onto his sheets with soft pants, giving him the space he needed to paint his pictures.

“You’re practically drooling…” He taunted you, as a soft pleasured breath left your lips, his middle finger rough from strings ghosting over your clit – a warm shot of lightning catching in your stomach. “All for me?”

All you could do was nod as he grinned against your skin, his middle finger delicately brushing over your clit in soft strokes; his knee drawing up to the underside of your thigh to push your leg open further, a flower blooming. There was the familiar burn that spread from your clit and radiated up your abdomen with the tease of his middle finger, switching between a soft caress to a rub circle around as he pushed and pushed and pushed.

Your hips were squirming on the bed, trying to push yourself further into his touch so he’d fully give in, but with each movement, he jutted his hand back enough to keep you at the very edge of his touch. He was playing a game with you, even though you had pleaded for his touch, trying to see how many ways he could make you beg before he gave in. Even without words, his actions were enough that a part of you wanted to push him back, sink your teeth into his shoulder to see how he’d react.

He'd most likely like that thought.

“Please…” It was said a subtle turn of your head, your lips ghosted over his temple, breathing him in like he did you. “Please be kind, I…”

“Kind?” He tutted softly, his lips dragging down your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the top of your breast, “I told you I wasn’t going to be kind, baby…”

Your hand sank into the back of his hair, tangling in the soft strands as your chest pushed up towards his lips, your breathing hitching with the tingle of your skin.

Soft moans and breaths were spilling from your lips like you were resigned to haunting his room from now on; a single hand would be marked on your grave as cause of death with his name next to it. His touches a signature to the absolute dissolve of your sanity.

It wasn’t mercy he was taking on you, it was the attitude that he had to take you apart piece by piece as he grinned against your skin. His middle finger pressed forward first, grazing past your clit to sink down, notching at your entrance as he wiggled his finger there teasingly.

“Is this what you wanted?” He grinned, looking up at you from your chest, “Use your words…”

“Yes…” You breathed pathetically, his finger barely sinking in before it drew back out, the feeling of your walls fluttering around empty space driving you mad. “Gods, yes…”

He seemed pleased with your pleas, his teeth affectionally nipping at your nipple as he finally sank his finger in, your lips parting with a soft moan as your walls fluttered around every bump. His hands were so much bigger than yours, built for playing guitar and generally rougher from actual work, and from the feel of his middle finger, you were ready to give in.

The digit moving and sinking with a languid pace, curling teasingly to brush that rough patch inside you.

“So needy…” He cooed teasingly, his lips kissing back up your chest and neck to whisper in your ear. “It’s cute, baby…”

If you were sane, you would have died at the noises coming from between your legs with each sink of his finger – your mind not even on the camera at the moment as his thumb started to graze your clit again, the quiet room filling with that familiar clicking noise of wetness. Your head barely turned to meet his next to you, your eyes locking as you saw just how dark his eye had gotten with playing with you; your noses knocking together as he breathed you in. Lips barely touching as his finger started to curl more.

“You're soaked…” Aemond hummed softly as your eyes fluttered, a hitching breath leaving your mouth as he grazed that spot. “You think you can take another one, baby?” He teased softly, a nipping peck on your lips.

Before you could respond, he tutted, an amused breath pushing out his nose, “I don’t know why I’m asking, you will take another one.”

A part of you wondered what circle of hell crafted him, the way his lips parted mockingly with yours as he sunk another finger in – a taunting look in his eye that only added to the pleasure as he curled his digits experimentally. The feeling of your legs twitching on the bed and your hand flying down to hold his wrist was humiliating, his rings nudging your entrance with each flick of his wrist. Wanton moans spilling out as he got a little faster with each flick.

He wasn’t a lover that talked you through it, he was a lover that just talked to you, stirred you up and broke you down.

“You’re so tense, baby…” He chuckled, nipping at your bottom lip, “I thought you wanted to come?”

It was a needy strangle in your throat as you resigned yourself to the feeling of his fingers starting to get faster and faster. The delicious fluttering of your walls, coupled with the nudging of his rings, had you wishing that you could get him to sink all the way in with the rings too.

You knew being a guitarist was benefitting him at that moment, the way his arm was tensing without cramping as he did ‘come hither’ after ‘come hither’ motion inside you, your walls fluttering and tensing around him. All the while, his thumb flicked at your clit the same way he probably plucked his guitars, just enough to get you to sing.

If the way your slick noises and breathy mewls filled the room, he knew how to make you sing for him. His eye burned into you, his voice low with his lips brushing the side of your face as he spoke of all the things he goaded you more.

“Doing so good for me, bun…” He chuckled softly, his lip dragging down your neck and nipping whatever skin he could; his praise shooting through you like a star falling out of the sky. “You were always going to be good for me though, weren’t you?”

The nod you gave in response was washed with sweat and desperation as your hips started to push up into the feeling of him. The burning in your lower stomach started to radiate and spread with each cruel and slick flick of his hand. Your fingers kept digging into his skin, no doubt leaving your marks behind. You were seeking something, anything, to ground yourself as the heat of pleasure rolled through you, the feeling starting to spread down your thighs. The noises you made got more and more desperate with each clench of your walls, threatening to pull you under entirely.

“You gonna let go for me, hm?” Aemond was right there with you, gaze dark with desire, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured.

His voice was low, coaxing, but laced with something sharp—control barely held together as he watched you unravel beneath him. His fingers didn’t falter, working you over with devastating precision, pushing you closer, closer—until the tension inside you felt unbearable.

Aemond shifted, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, nipping softly at the lobe. “I can feel you,” he murmured, voice rough with taunt and heady pleasure. “So close, just let go, bunny…”

The words sent a shudder through you, cries starting to fill the room as the pressure in your cunt grew. When his fingers found that perfect spot, curling up in a way that left no room for resistance, your body answered him. It was like something had snapped something inside of you, the heat flooding every nerve as you spilt around his fingers.

The familiar wetness of your release pushing out, and the way your gummy ways clamped down; pleasure tearing through you in waves. You barely registered the sound of your broken moans and sobs of his name, the way you trembled in his sheets, held firm by his touch, by him.

Aemond groaned, his grip tightening as he felt you come apart beneath him. His lips finally found yours again, licking into your mouth and swallowing every gasp, every cry, as if he wanted to devour the feeling right along with you.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone slightly softer now, reverent almost as his fingers slowed. The moans coming out of your mouth softened too as you shook in his sheets still, the familiar dampness coating your thighs cooling with the air. But the hunger in his gaze hadn’t dimmed - not in the slightest.

And you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

The moment’s reprieve he gave you from your last orgasm was more for his benefit than yours, his stance ever smug as he stroked your hip softly; his form lounging next to you like a deity, like he hadn’t just blasted you into another dimension.

It was an intimate embrace, or as close to it as it could get. Your head turning toward him, gaze hazy, reverent, like one might look at a saviour. But there was nothing saintly about him. No, he was not benevolent in any pure sense of the word. He was a giver, yes, but perhaps too much of one. If the trembling in your thighs and the stray tears tracking down your face were anything to go by.

“Don’t give me that look…” Aemond chuckled deeply, his hand reaching to brush your cheek, “I’m not even close to being done with you yet, our night is just starting…”

“You’re going to kill me.” You breathed softly, your own hand coming up to touch his, fingers spanning his wrist as you stroked it delicately.

Your fingers traced along his wrist, feeling the steady pulse beneath his skin as if trying to ground yourself in him. A man who had so thoroughly unravelled you. Your touch was delicate. “And I think you’ll enjoy it.” He retorted.

Aemond huffed his first real laugh to you all night, but it wasn’t at the joke, it was at you. His eye was nefarious as he leaned down close to your face, glancing at you with a look you couldn’t place.

His look alone sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation curling low in your stomach, even as exhaustion clung to your limbs. You should have been spent, should have been begging for rest, but the way he looked at you, like something precious and breakable yet utterly his, had you curled toward him before you could stop yourself. Needy for his heat.

Aemond was too pleased with himself at your closeness, his fingers drifted lower, tracing the hollow of your throat, pausing where your pulse fluttered wildly beneath his touch. His smirk deepened, his thumb pushing softly on your windpipe – it wasn’t to choke you, more to keep you in place and at his command.

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around his wrist, but you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Aemond leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to your jaw, a low mumble against your skin as he spoke.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, his lips dragging down the line of your throat, teeth grazing but never quite biting, he had left his purple flowers earlier. “Are you tired?” He taunted.

You swallowed hard, your throat moving over the subtle press of his thumb as words slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

“No.”

His chuckle was low, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own filled with something delicious. “Good,” Aemond murmured.

There was a slight pause as he took you in, undoubtedly looking at the flush colouring your face, or the way your pupils expanded to the point of looking like black wells. For a moment, a brief flicker, you could have sworn that there was something on his face that went beyond pure lust – but whatever it was, it didn’t linger. Something in his eye snapped back to his usual form, and his words tumbled out like silk between his lips.

“You’ve already given me so much,” he murmured, almost thoughtful. Then, a wicked grin. “But I think you can give me more.”

The pressure of his thumb dragging down your throat and back to your hip was humbling, the way something so small could have you ready to kneel so quickly. But whatever you could say about it was taken, his hand spanning your hip to pull you towards him on your side, the familiar feel of his cock hardened against your stomach reminding you that it in fact was not over in the slightest.

“Get up.” He demanded softly, his hand giving your side a final squeeze before he shifted himself.

There was an air of confusion as you watched him move to lay his back against the headboard, your eyes flickering to the camera on the bedside as his body stretched out with legs slightly spread. Aemond had a look in his eyes that told you that getting up was no argument, that the shaking in your thighs and the tiredness behind your lids wasn’t to stop you.

There was an air of silence that was building, your eyes watching as his hand brushed down his stomach briefly to grasp himself again, his own pleasure now on the forefront of his mind as he slowly stroked.

“I won’t ask again.” His voice was low but firm, hand moving casually like he wasn’t stroking himself, “Move.”

It was with a small sniffle that you got out, you weren’t really sad nor upset with the situation, just tired as you sat up; legs curling under you briefly before you crawled on the sheets towards him. His eye was positively wicked in the dim light as he looked at you crawling to him, his free hand reaching out to adjust the camera on the bedside to get all of you as you got to his parted thighs. Body kneeling between them patiently.

There was a beat of stillness before his free hand moved to reach out to you, your own hesitating slightly on your thigh before grasping it. He hummed softly as he tugged you forward, looking up slightly as you rose on your knees, letting go of your palm to smooth down your hips and tug you even further forward. It was a sign to straddle him.

His cock was laying heavy on his stomach as he let it go, both hands moving and grasping your hips as your knees raised to rest either side of him; sliding to your backside slightly to squeeze and coax you into sitting down. He shushed you softly as your sensitive core touched him, hands sliding up to your waist to press you as close as possible while your arms slid around his neck; his hair still as soft as ever as it slipped over your skin.

“You’ve been so good for me bun…” He hummed, his thumb brushing your skin maddeningly, “But you know what I want you to do right?”

A soft puff of air passed out your lips as your hips lazily moved against his cock, your core fragile to the touch after 2 climaxes and touching. It basically had its own heartbeat at this point. Gentle whines building in your throat as he chuckled, amused by your behaviour.

“Oh…” He chuckled deeply, guiding you a little, “You’re so close, baby but not quite.”

“I need a little longer.” You whimpered softly, your head dipping down to nuzzle at his cheek, “Please…”

“Do you?” He teased with a turn of his head, meeting your lips briefly, “I think you don’t, baby, be good now…”

Before you could stop it, a huff came tumbling out of your mouth like a spoilt child – the noise so clear that your eyes widened quickly before registering what you’d done. You couldn’t even get the sound of an apology out your mouth before you felt a force quickly smack down on your behind, an undignified noise tearing out your mouth as the sound of smacked skin filled the room.

The heat bloomed on your backside as you looked at him, shocked, one of your hands moving to cover the area as he gave you a heated look.

“I was planning on being at least a little nice to you, baby.” He scoffed softly, slight heat to his words as he knocked your hand away from your behind, “But you just had to go and be a little brat about it, hm?”

A slight whine came out as your eyes softened, “I’m sorry, I—”

“You what?” He taunted, this thumb brushing over your heated skin, his hand quickly raising again to smack back down without even blinking, “Try harder.”

“I’m sorry…” You bubbled softly, your eyes stinging slightly at the thought of disappointing him that you reached out to touch his face, his chin jutting away slightly with a chuckle. “I didn’t mean it, I just… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He repeated with a slightly raised brow, his eye scanning your face with a dark look, “You’re sorry, baby, you didn’t mean it?” He mocked you slightly, adding a whine to his voice to really drive the point.

“Let me make it up to you…” You gulped softly, hands dragging down his chest as you pressed forward with glossy eyes, “Please…?”

The startle you got as he laughed was slight, the sound so deep and rich that you wondered what exactly was funny about what you said. You could only look at him confused as he pulled you further into him, his cock nudging at your folds, head tilting up to look at you with a grin.

“Baby, you don’t have to ask to make it up to me…” He taunted you softly, hand grabbing at your sore cheek for emphasis, “You’re going to.”

Whatever breath you had left in your lungs hitched as you looked at him, his eyes taunting you to see if you’d use your safe word or not. But no part of you wanted to, you wanted to push and push to see just how exactly he could put you in your place. The idea of him breaking you down was as delicious as Eve being called to the apple. With a thick gulp, you nodded, your hand reaching between the two of you with parted lips as you grasped at his cock; the appendage giving a subtle throb as your fist closed around him.

You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, and no part of you was ready to say no to him anymore as you raised up onto your knees; eyes flickering down slightly wondering just how you were going to take him. He was big, bigger than you’d had before that much was clear, lengthy with enough girth that you were sure he’d fill you lusciously. There was a slight hesitation as you lower yourself down, grabbing him slightly through your folds to catch on your clit with bated breath, fingers edging him further down to sit at your entrance.

All the while he looked at you like you were his last meal, his lips parted and eyes dark as he watched you hover over him with a subtle sway of your hips. A stuttered breath passed out your lips as you started to sink down, a soft noise forced out with the delicious ache of taking him. Centimetre by centimetre, you felt your body make space for him in your gummy walls; the fluttering of the intrusion caused a groan to pull out his lips.

“Fuck.” He breathed, his eyes cast down and his hands tightening on your hip as he aided you in sinking down on him, a loud moan in there as your heat enveloped him. “Doing so good, bun, making it up to me hm?”

He chuckled as you whined and moaned, sinking further and further down while he held onto you, “Looking so pretty on camera too, baby…”

Through a heady gaze, you turned your attention to the red light on the table, reminding you that everything was being captured for him – your hands reaching out to touch his face as you smashed your lips to his. Moaning as he finally sunk all the way in, his length twitching softly within your walls as he groaned against your lips.

He didn’t give you a chance to kiss him before he was pulling away, watching as you squirmed slightly on his cock, back lent against the headboard as he looked at you with an equally potent gaze.

“You can move, baby…” He chuckled, hands brushing teasingly over your hips, your own hands moving to his waist like earlier.

A soft groan fell out your lips as you looked at him pleadingly, being on top was never your favourite without help, but you figured he knew that by now.

“Please…” You sniffle softly, shifting your hips lightly as his cock kisses something inside that left you tingling, “Can you help me?”

He only tutted in response, “You’re supposed to be making it up to me, baby.”

“Aemond.” You whimpered slightly, shifting your hips more into a lazy grind for some kind of friction. “Please.”

Aemond only chuckled in response, leaning further back with a smug smirk; he was getting off on watching you not want to do it, your teeth sinking into your lip as you started to grind a little harder. He wasn’t going to help you, and it was maddeningly attractive, leaving you to your own devices to try and get off while he taunted and tutted at you.

You tried to brace yourself as your hands moved to rest on your thighs, a needy look on your face as you started to move your hips over him. He was kissing your insides like he belonged there with each grind, your clit rubbing on his public bone and forcing breathy moans to fill the space. It was a heady combination of desperation and just pure wanted as he watched you, the only sign he was even fazed being the subtle picking up of his breath and his flexing fingers on your hip.

“Look at you…” He drawled out softly, eye casting all over your form as you worked yourself up on his cock, “So pretty and so needy, is this you being sorry baby?”

“Yes…” You mewled as you looked at him, nails digging into your skin as your hips moved, and moved, and moved. “I’m sorry…”

“Do you really want to make it up to me, baby?” He cooed at you like you would a toddler, one of his hands moving and thumb moving slightly into the crease in your thigh, “Make me happy?”

A frantic nod happened instantly as you breathed and moaned softly, “Yes.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning forward off the headboard – the feeling causing him to slide in deeper which you didn’t think was possible as a harsher moan left your mouth. His free hand slid from your hip, all the way up your breast to brush at your nipple softly before settling at the base of your throat. His hold was soft but with strong intent as it lay there in warning, his palm spanning the bottom and his fingers curling around with a twitch.

“Bounce bunny,” He taunted you, his lips meeting your jaw briefly, “Go on, be good.”

The filthy part of your brain complied instantly to his request, your head tilting back with broken moans as you started to move up and down on him, his lips parting in enjoyment as you took from him. This wasn’t a show for the cameras, this was pure unadulterated want as you bounced and moved on him, his cock sliding in and out of you with each smack of skin, filling his room with the thuds you hadn’t heard in a while. The two of you shared moans and groans with each movement, his lips kissing around the hold on your neck and your hands moving to his shoulders for leverage as you moved like you hadn’t in a while.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me bunny…” He moaned faintly against your skin, his hand tightening on your hip slightly as you buried your nose in his hair, preening softly at his praise, “You like the way I feel, bunny?”

You nodded with a mewl of agreement, panting into his hair as you bounced like a bunny in his lap. It was desperation really, but gods it felt amazing to have him kiss every bump and ridge of your inside like someone carved your hole out just for him.

“Feels good…” You moaned, your hands smoothing over his shoulder and to his back to bite your nails into.

You could feel his teeth show as your nails sunk into his skin, a breathy chuckle passing out his lips as you did, hand twitching on your neck, “You feel good, bunny…?”

“You take me so well,” He moved his mouth to your ear, nipping at your lobe, “Perfect little pussy was made for me, hm?”

His words curled like smoke into your ears, your eyes sinking to a half-lidded state as he spoke to the deep recesses of your brain. Your walls clamped around him as he did, forcing you to move a little bit harsher in his lap. The burning in your thighs was building, spreading from your knees all the way up but you couldn’t stop moving on him, grinding with a pathetic little whine with each roll down. You were pretty sure you did look like a needy bunny in his lap, fucking on him desperately to try and get off again like he hadn’t made you spill twice already; ignoring the burning in your legs and stomach that begged you to stop.

“Maybe I should keep you,” He chuckled pulling his head back slightly to look at your dishevelled state, “You’d like that thought wouldn’t you, keep you with me, warming my cock like the desperate little thing you are?”

“Please,” You begged, pressing your torso to his seeking his touch, “Please…”

Something about him forced you to your edges, pulling you over the edge of cliffs and into some dark pool below that you just couldn’t stop. He moans and groans against your neck wishing that he’d give you the tape of this once it was over, just so you’d have something to hold onto. Just so you could listen to him when you needed to get off.

Gods, you’d let him keep you, the rational part of your brain ready to put away any feminism you had to let him keep you needy and desperate in his lap for eternity.

“Needy little thing…” He taunted you, both his hands moving to your hips with a groan, “What a needy fucking thing you are…”

“Aemond…” You cried softly, the burning in your thighs getting worse with each bounce, “Please, I can’t—”

“You want me to take over is that it, baby?” He grinned at you, something heated behind it, “You’re supposed to be making it up to me, remember”

“Aemond…” You drawled out, trying not to slow down as he pushed and pushed you. “Please, please…”

Tears were pricking your eyes, gathering like pearls really to drop as the pain of overexerting yourself bled into the sheer pleasure of fucking him. The first of them slithering down your cheek as you looked at him, face full of want and anguish for him to take over. His healthy eye’s pupil was already are wide as the abyss, but something about watching a tear streak down your face only caused a glint to pass over it. His face stretched into something dark as he caught the tear with his lips, grinning like he’d discovered diamonds.

“Now, look at that…” He licked your cheek as another tear fell, your eyes closing at the feeling, he was feeding off those tears, “Bunny, you look so pretty when you cry…”

He was a bastard, but gods he was everything in that moment.

It wasn’t pity he took on you with his hands starting to help you, it was a need to see more of those delicious tears run down your face. His body leaned back for leverage as he started moving you up and down on him, like his own personal toy, his touch was harsher than yours, however. Each time he pulled you down only forced more noises out of your mouth, the smacking of skin getting louder and louder as he worked you over him.

The tears in your eyes didn’t lessen in the slightest, your wet gaze looking at him as they dripped with other intent. This wasn’t pain anymore, it was a burning gnawing feeling of lust building up again as your insides started to flame with another building climax. Aemond was grunting himself in pleasure, groans and moans spilling out as he looked up at you with need written on his own face. He wasn’t a needy man clearly, but in the moment, he looked at you like your cunt was god.

You were aiding him in any way you could in your bouncing, your legs practically spent as you tried to keep up the hopping but it was clear he was doing most of the work. Your hands held onto his as you moved and moved for him. There was the feeling of your eyes starting to roll as he moved his legs under you, his feet placing on the sheets to push up into you harder. Squeaks forced out as his hips started snapping up.

Aemond’s face was beautiful in the throes of pleasure, his cheeks taking on a soft flush, his gaze lush as he looked up at you with an almost soft look. He wasn’t being soft at the moment, but the pleasure coloured his face in the way you imagined a painting would look. His abs clenched with each thrust up. There was something in his gaze though, something calling that this wasn’t just it, but you couldn’t name it.

The burning in your stomach was spreading further and further, teetering on the edge of another climax as he fucked you from below. You knew this time you’d need a little more help to get there, not being used to having more than two orgasms in a night, so you felt no shame as your hand moved away from his to slide between the two of you. Fingers found your clit with ease as you rubbed, a choked moan croaking out as you tried to build up to another climax.

Aemond however had other plans, a tut snapping out his mouth instantly as his hand flew from your hip over yours, knocking it out the way for his own fingers. He wasn’t as soft as you, his own fingers intent on pushing you over the edge with a scream rather than a moan – it was overwhelming but you didn’t shy away from the intensity.

As he rubbed, your eyes looked over him so into giving pleasure, scanning him appreciatively; hands moving to smooth over his stomach as you just took him in. It was hot that all of this was being caught on camera, your eyes lazily drifting to the lens on the bedside as you stared at it – wondering if this would give him the same feeling it was giving you later on.

He could tell that you were nearly there by the noises, the way your warm walls got tighter and tighter around him, and the fact your face was flushing like a rose. A smirk drew up onto his lips as he shifted you slightly, his cock hitting that spot inside you that had your walls snapping around him. Eyes widening as you look at him, not even close to being there.

“Ah—” You cried softly, not panicked but worried about just how far this was going to go as he looked like he was pushing himself away from the edge, “What about—” You strangled out.

He only shushed you with a lazy grin, his head tilting back slightly as he forced you down a little hard; fingers still stroking at you in time with his thrusts. His groans were melodic as he pulled you further and further to the edge.

The tears were spilling down your cheeks and the pressure built in your core, walls tight around his cock that you were surprised that he could even move anymore with how hard you were gripping him. The friction coupled with his fingers on your clit forced the familiar prick to start to build, the feeling of needing to let go insane.

“I—” You moaned loudly, your face starting to screw up, his hips forcing every little noise out as he grunted with effort.

Aemond was just as lost in it as you were, but you could tell he wasn’t as close to letting go as you, his grunts a bit too strained with effort as he tightened his hold on your hips.

“Come on bun,” He breathed out, the air forced from his chest, “Let go for me, I know you want to…”

Everything felt like a melting pot of pleasure and pain, your soft sobs and moans blending together to create something truly pathetic as your chin angled down with effort. If Aemond had neighbours that could hear, you were sure they’d think you were being murdered in here but you just didn’t care anymore, the feeling in your stomach like a balloon that kept expanding till the rubber exploded.

There was a subtle haziness to your vision that was flooding in, the feeling of sweat on your back, and the hairs around your temple starting to stick with effort. Every single nerve in your body felt like someone was grazing over it with a lighter, a subtle shiver building up your spine as you felt your eyes start to slip shut; walls as tight as they could be.

And then there was only ringing, your own ears not picking up the moan that ripped out your throat and into the room as you finally let go. Your vision went white for a few seconds as you felt the familiar gush from your opening and soak Aemond’s length, the slick noises adding to the slapping of skin. Your flesh pimpled with a shiver, from your legs to your nipples perking up as you cried on his length.

Aemond could only watch with a shit-eating grin as you let go of him, his hips moving you through your pleasure as tears leaked down your cheeks.

“Fuck, look at you…” His voice was hoarse with effort, the sound scratching at your brain as the feelings started to come back, “Pretty fucking thing…”

The noises out your mouth turned whiny as he pushed you into overstimulation, the burning in your core too much – he could sense your pain however as he started to slow down, easing you lighter and lighter over his till he stopped. Your chest heaving with effort as you sniffled and cried, arms out and braced in his chest as you kept yourself from completely slumping over.

Moments were fruitless to remember, but you could feel one of his arms slip around your back as he moved the two of you with little effort. The feeling of his cold sheets felt like ice kissing fire as he settled you down onto them carefully, his length still buried in your despite it all.

“I’ve got you…” He hummed softly, a juxtaposition from the hammering you just took from him, “You’re okay, bunny, I’ve got you…”

His hands pushed some of your hair back softly as he chuckled fondly, your body practically melting into the sheets as he laid you on your back. One arm holding him up above you as the other lightly touched your skin, trying not to force you into some space you didn’t need to be.

“You with me?” He asked warmly, this thumb brushing some of the tears off your cheek.

It felt like a herculean effort to open your eyes, the lids swimming with tears as they blurrily opened with a pathetic sniffle and nod.

“There she is…” He chuckled faintly, looking over your face for any signs of distress.

His hair was a curtain over your face as you looked up at him, his image unphased while you melted like ice on a hot day into his sheets. His cock was still very much buried in you, the feeling of fullness causing a twitch of your hips that wasn’t seeking pleasure.

He hadn’t cum and the thought had your eyebrows pulling together.

Sensing your thoughts, he hums softly, head dipping to peck your lips with some affection before mumbling against them.

“Bunny…” You could feel the smirk twitching at his mouth, begging to come out, “You know I’m not done with you yet.”

You let out a soft cry at that, your little sniffle causing a smile on his face as he kissed over your chin, “You know your word, bunny…”

Your body was spent, every nerve you had left was frayed away like a tired electric cable left to rust, sweat and slickness covered your body and overall, you felt ready to wither away.

But fuck, you could not bring yourself to say the word.

Whether you were a glutton for punishment now, all you could do was blink up at him as he faux-fawned over you like a child again.

“But she won’t use it though, will she?” He grinned with teeth, looking down at you with a look that told you he was more than ready to eat you up again, “Such a pathetically needy little thing.”

Your body was very much just his vessel to move around now as he sat back on his knees; cock slipping out of you with a strangled moan from you. Both of his hands slid down your sides, looking down at you with an amused look before he pats your hip.

“Turn over,” He hummed while leaving no room for argument.

You whined softly as you were rolled onto your stomach, a tender feeling flooding your body as you felt his hands caress your backside. Aemond was intent on leaving nothing of you, his hands tugging your hips up with little effort as you moved onto your knees and elbows. Your body blooming like a flower as your limbs shakily held yourself up.

“I’ll take care of you, baby…” He snickered softly, the bed dipping as he stood on his knees behind you, hands firmly on your hips as he pulled you towards him.

“M’tired…” You sniffled softly, face partly in the sheets to muffle the noise.

You couldn’t see him but you could imagine his head tilting in amusement, “You know what to say if you want me to stop, baby…”

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to say the word, your body trembling slightly as he pulled you flush against him; his tip nudging your puffy folds with a soft hum. He knew you weren’t going to say it, the hunger in you winning out to see what another peak would do to you, your eyes fluttering at the thought. There was a brief pause before he was guiding himself back into you with a low moan, the breath knocking out of you as your walls instantly wrapped around him tight to the intrusion again.

He released a breathy moan as his hands tightened on your hips, his own body most likely wound up like a coil from the way he kept himself from letting go before. Aemond gave you a few seconds to adjust again before he was gripping your hips and forcing you back onto him; soft ‘uh’ noises slipping out as he started to rock you into him.

This was the furthest you’d been pushed before but you loved it as he built up a steady rhythm, his breathing starting to pick up and his hand flexing on your hips. Not being able to see him left you with a sense of want, but having him behind you like this had his cock reaching further into you, and that’s all that mattered right now. His hips slapped off your behind with steady thuds as you moaned and whined on his length.

“Fuck.” He gritted slightly, his hips forcing just a bit harder as you gripped onto him like you were trying to suck him in, “Where have you been all my life?”

The compliment was enough to draw a tired giggle out of your mouth as your elbows dug into the bed with effort, your head picking up slightly to try and look back at him. From what you could see, his head was tossed back slightly, his hair brushing his back as he used you again like a little toy just for him. It was hot, and it was letting you muster enough strength to try and work yourself back onto him.

He looked down as you did, a smug little smirk on his lips as he watched you, his hand no doubt leaving marks on your flesh with how tightly he was holding you.

“Oh, she’s found life, has she?” He goaded you, “I was going lightly on you this time for your benefit, baby, but if you’re feeling so energetic.”

Your lips parted as you watched him, a shocked breath tumbling out as he goaded you. A dirty smirk on his face, as one of his hands let go to tangle in your hair, forcing your face forward.

Your eyes widened slightly as they met the lens, in your fog of pleasure you’d forgotten it was there. “Smile for the camera, baby” He taunted.

Something demonic made him, that’s where your mind went before he just let himself go on you. His hands moved back to your hips to fuck you like he wanted; hips slamming into yours with such a force you felt every single noise you could make leave you, leaving your mouth open to wheeze and mewl. Aemond was the loudest he’d been all night, grunts and moans filling the spaces in between the slapping of hips and the slick dribbling down your legs, his voice carrying as he did all the work for you.

You wanted to look at him so bad, but all you could do was blink at the camera as tears of pleasure built in your eyes again. Fingers grasping at the bedding while he worked on rocking every bit of sense you had left out of you. This descent up the peak felt different from the last, your body shaking with something cold and so deliciously good that you wondered why you’d never found someone willing to use you like this before.

He was something else entirely, something that you honestly never wanted to let go of as he fucked you. If this was only going to be a one-night stand, then god you hoped he imprinted his length into you forever.

He’d mostly stopped talking to you, clearly working on finding his pleasure and your own again, his hips doing the work of a god. His grunt and moans were just music to your ears as your head dropping down to the bed, your sweaty forehead pressed into his sheets as your back arched further into the feeling, seeking everything you could from him as he chuckled through the haze.

“You’re something else,” He murmured between moans, clearly happy with how you were taking it like a champ.

Thrusting alone wasn’t going to cut it, despite how tight your body was wound, and the noises you were letting out probably spoke volumes to that. His lips shushed you slightly with a grunt.

“I know, baby…” He said between his clenched jaw, his hand slipping over your hip and under.

The demon he was, didn’t just go for your clit, however, his hand pressed softly on your lower stomach as you sang for him instantly. A sob left you as you felt yourself get impossibly tighter for a second, the push causing his cock to hit something deep in you that had your knees shaking. He wasn’t about to keep you on edge, his hand sliding down to find your clit as his wrist kept pressed on your lower stomach.

“Aemond…” You moaned a deranged sound from the back of your throat he grunted in response. “Fuck, Aemond please.”

“Just a bit longer, bunny.” He grunted with effort, your eyes widening in the sheets as something built hotter and hotter in you.

The feeling was like a hot iron being struck over and over with each rock of his hips, his fingers coaxing everything out of you. It was a scary feeling to be pushed so far, and you weren’t sure if you could even find that end again, no matter how determined a lover he was.

Aemond wasn’t going to stop until you both tumbled over the edge this time, his grunt building into something harsh as he fucked into you harder and harder; his movements needy as you felt right now. Your breathing was all over the place, torn between gasps and choked noises as you fought your brain to get to the end, your tongue peeking out your mouth slightly in desperation.

If you never slept with someone else again after this, you were so glad that Aemond was the one to muddle your mind into something twisted. The familiar haze of lust clouded your brain again as your knuckles went white on the sheets.

All you could get out was squeaks at this point, your head pressing further and further into the bed as you arched more, thighs slapping with his as he took you to the last lap.

“Bunny.” He grunted, something feral in his tone as he spoke to you, “Are you nearly there, baby?”

The only you could give him was a sob of what sounded like a ‘yes’, there was truly nothing left of you.

The hot iron before was melting in the heat, dripping its molten ooze into your body and fogging your brain. It was impossible to tell who came first, but as you felt his hips drive into one last harsh time with a moan so loud that you’re pretty sure it would be ingrained into your mind forever. You completely let go. Your mind blacked out in a haze of feral lust as the feeling of his spend filled you completely.

You weren’t sure if it was moments or hours anymore, and you’re sure if you could see yourself, you’d be embarrassed by whatever act you were doing. But none of it was a thought in your brain anymore, emptied-headed and fucked. That’s what you were, your brain cutting out as you felt your body slump out of his hold and onto the sheets one last time.

What happened after that exact point, you weren’t really sure, but in the moments after the fall, you felt a soothing hand on your stomach. Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, barely fluttering open as you adjusted to every sound and feeling around you. There was a warmth between your thighs dribbling out and a hand on your stomach that wasn’t touching with intent, it was stroking so softly like he was trying to coax you back to him. A faint mumbling filled your ears as he soothed you in whatever way he could.

“You’re okay, baby…” He hummed softly, the two of you now lying on the bed, his body leaning on his side as he looked over you. “Did so good for me…”

It was lazy the way your head turned, eyes swimming with tiredness, to look at him.

All Aemond could do was smile lazily back, his own face the most tender it had been all night, “Look who’s awake.”

Your lips parted dryly before they closed again, no energy left to even speak.

“You okay, bunny?” He hummed softly, dipping his head slightly to look at you, eyes warm with care, “You blacked out for a second.”

“I’m okay…” You whispered softly, the flush on your face warm and your body sunk into his bed.

“Good…” He purred, his hand moving off your stomach to reach beyond you.

You had assumed he was turning the camera off, but you were surprised when his hand appeared with a glass; water swishing in the glass as he moved it to you with a soft sigh.

“Drink, baby,” He tutted softly, helping you up with him as he sat up slightly, pressing the glass to your mouth as your hand shakily moved to hold it with him.

God, it really was like finding an oasis in the desert as the cold liquid slipped down your tender throat. Your body leaned partly on his chest as you gulped the water down greedily, his free arm wrapping around you to brush your side softly.

“There you go…” He sighed warmly, making sure you didn’t slip into any uncomfortable place, his lips by your ear as he spoke softly to you, “You were so good for me, baby…”

After a few moments, he placed the glass on the bedside table before pulling you closer to him, his warmth seeping into your skin like a comforting embrace. Aemond’s fingers continued their slow, absentminded tracing along your arm, his touch featherlight, grounding you back into reality.

Your body still tingled from the intensity of the night, exhaustion weighing down your limbs like a heavy velvet blanket. You let out a breath, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the heady scent of your session that clung to him. Giving yourself a few moments of reprieve from the absolute storm that was him.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed a kiss against your temple. “That tired, hm?”

You hummed in response, words too much effort when all you wanted was to stay wrapped up in him, in this moment. His arm tightened around you, his palm smoothing slow, lazy circles along your back as he held you close. Neither of you spoke, only the sound of your steady breaths filling the dimly lit room.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in his arms, his touch keeping you tethered to reality. But eventually, Aemond let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to your hair before carefully slipping from you. The loss of his warmth made you stir slightly, your fingers weakly grasping for him, but he only shushed you gently.

“Just getting you a shirt, bunny,” he murmured, brushing a hand over your cheek before stepping away.

You barely cracked your eyes open as you watched him move, his bare back to you as he rummaged through his drawers. The exhaustion in your limbs made it impossible to do anything but wait, sinking further into the bed as exhaustion tugged at your edges.

Then he was back, helping you up slightly before draping a soft, worn shirt over your head, guiding your arms through it, his touch tender. Once you were settled, he laid you back in the covers again.

“Feeling better?” His tone was softer than usual, but there was something beneath it, something careful, almost hesitant.

You blinked up at him, drowsy, but nodded. “Yeah…”

Aemond exhaled through his nose, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your side. He was drawing shapes you couldn’t understand, his eyes looking over you in his bed, his body still bare to you.

It was almost reverent like the two of you didn’t just fuck like animals for god knows how long, but it was nice, comforting even. Your brain finally settled down as you moaned softly, settling into bed like you never wanted to leave, his face amused as he watched you.

“Can I ask you something, bunny?” He murmured softly breaking the silence, his hand settling on your hip possessively, his eye slightly wicked with intent.

“Hmm…” You tiredly moaned in response, eyes half-lidded and face in his pillow as you tried to listen to him.

He smirked softly, and then, after a beat.

“Come on tour with me.”

While I do not own the characters, I retain full copyright over this written work. Under no circumstances may this content be translated, copied, reposted, or used for AI training or any other purpose without my explicit permission.

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0bticeo · 1 day ago

Text

mark grayson | boyfriend material

summary:

“boxers? as boyfriend material?”

you shrug, your movements stifled from your position between his legs, your cheek pressing up against his thigh. you shift a little, the pleats of the oversized tee you’ve stolen from him somehow having gotten stuck under his leg.

“what? you can’t tell me these-” a gesture towards his boxers, the ones you’re currently wearing “- aren’t the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.”

tags: mlw, aged up a little (early 20's), idiots to lovers, pwp, mark is adorable, pining, sexual tension, making out, fingering, edging, marking, biting, loss of virginity, use of the pull out method (wrap it before you tap it), mark is down bad and so is reader, no y/n, lowercase intended.

there’s a ringing in your ear. nagging, persistent, strident little thing. everything is too loud, too much. you’re overwhelmed, maybe. there’s a metallic taste on your tongue, and your shoulders ache, skin too warm under the tight leather of your catsuit.

movement to your right. invincible, landing next to you, his hand steady on your shoulder. you lean back against him, panting, just the time for the taste of blood in your mouth to recede, for you to breathe-

a commotion.

your head tilts in its direction, your weary gaze hidden by your domino mask. journalists. it’s almost funny, how they swarm scenes of wreckage, flies drawn to a burning carcass. ruins stretch around you. the wounded are under the GDA’s care. you wonder what the fuck cecil was thinking, sending a team as uncoordinated as the new guardians of the globe on the field. you barely work for him, and neither does invincible, yet-

here you are, stumbling down a pile of rubble, invincible’s grip steadying you.

“you okay?” he breathes.

you know he can hear the erratic drum of your heartbeat. smell the blood dripping down your split lip.

“i’m fine. really.”

a flash. a journalist. tall, sharply dressed in a black tailored suit, with a cute pencil skirt, long red hair falling graciously on the long slope of her neck. striking green eyes. the embodiment of the office siren, coming straight at you to sing her pretty song and coax the filthiest gossip out of you.

you share a look with invincible and watch as his lips curl into an exasperated smile.

and so it begins. lights, camera, action!

“my age?”

you frown a little, titling your head to the side. besides you, mark - invincible - snickers. you can almost hear the words. like a cute little puppy. insulting. you’re more of a cat person.

you grin, two fingers tapping your chin.

“that’s classified.”

the journalist in front of you - twenty something, almost made your jaw drop and did cause you to get slammed into a nearby wall by the lizard league, because wow - groans, green eyes rolling playfully.

“come on, shadow,” she grins, extending her mic a little more. she’s close enough for you to grip her arm and disarm- relax. civilian. “you can’t leave us hanging! we barely know you!”

that’s the point. the voice in your head sounds oddly like cecil. done with this shit, done with life, done with this conversation. but the GDA can and will be up your ass if you unleash a PR disaster, so you humour her.

“and i don’t even have your name, hun’.”

a little blush creeps up her cheeks. your smile widens a little, sharp in all ways it shouldn’t. besides you, invincible rolls his eyes, exasperatedly fond.

“meg.”

“ooh, pretty name. right, ask me anything.”

she seizes you up. you, clad in a catsuit so dark it looks like it’s absorbing the very daylight. you, hip cocked to the side, gloved fingers tapping at your hip bone. the way the lapels of your coat brush the bloodied ground, dripping red. invincible at your side, lazily leaning on your shoulder. you, swatting at him with a tired grin because blood on leather is a pain to clean up.

meg pulls out her phone. you lean forward a little, intrigued, and catch a glimpse of what appears to be a list of questions.

“are you aware you have a fanbase?”

you exchange a glance with invincible. you may not see the soft melted brown of his eyes, but you know there’s a little spark of mischief beneath his mask.

“oh?”

“yeah, you guys are as popular as teen team, if not more. how do you feel about them? any gossip you want to share?”

a pointed look. between rex’s… explosive relationship with eve and… well, his other relationship… relationships? with dupli-kate, you’d be stuck here for a while. you settle for a lesser evil. gotta throw a bone or two to the press. makes for nice trivia for fan books.

“robot recently discovered that he has a fondness for junk food.”

“yep, he’s been pretty unsettled by it.”

meg stares at you with a pointed look. no juicy drama. both of you refuse to play the game. infuriating but understandable. she checks her watch, grimaces.

“shit, gotta wrap this up. ugh, if i had it my way, the two of you would answer the web’s most searched questions.” her gaze snaps back to you, green eyes rooting you in place. “the two of you work incredibly well together. what’s a usual mission like?”

it’s a relatively innocent question. you describe it, invincible occasionally chiming in, still leaning on your shoulder, hovering a little above the ground for comfort. (a flash. you staring up at mark after a mission as he pulls off his mask, feet a few inches off the ground. flying just… feels natural, y’know?)

usually, you get to the scene, assess the situation, neutralise the villain of the day and rescue those caught in the crossfire. get in, punch some people, get out. try not to have a heart attack when you watch invincible getting the shit beaten out of him by aliens/wizards/mafiosi/clones/dragons. cradle his face after a mission while scolding him because that was reckless, you idiot.

meg hums, perfectly manicured finger scrolling down on her screen, on the lookout for the next juicy question. her lips split in a slow grin.

“no… longer missions? undercover missions?”

oh, you should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. there’s a little curl to her lips, the sweet professional smile bordering on something more cutting. invincible laughs. you feel the vibration of it seep under your skin, percolating straight to your heart. you think you’re getting a little warmer, the summer sun high above you.

you think invincible’s blinding you with how wide he’s smiling.

“we’re superheroes. not spies.”

she hums, steps closer, fingers lightly trailing over the fabric of your coat.

“people have noticed this little number.”

“oh, yeah, it’s fairly new.”

meg looks up from her phone and smirks.

“we have a question from inviciboyfan25: is it boyfriend material?”

undeterred, you lean a little closer, until all the camera can see is the sharp edge of your smile.

“too heavy for that. the real deal? boxers and oversized tee. unparalleled.”

a smack at the back of your head. you let out a little yelp, your phone landing flat on your chin, cradling the sore spot with a pout.

“what was that for?”

mark glares at you, holding up his phone. on it, images of your encounter with that cute journalist three hours ago. he’s got a bandaid on his cheek, another one on his nose, both of them pink with hello kitty patterns.

he’s frowning. you gaze up to the small crease between his eyebrows and wonder how to smooth it away. you boop his nose instead, giggling when his frown deepens. he swats your hand.

“boxers? as boyfriend material?”

“what? you can’t tell me these-” a gesture towards his boxers, the ones you’re currently wearing “- aren’t the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.”

he groans, leaning back on his pillow. his fingers close on the sleeve of your (his) shirt, the one with seance dog proudly taking off, all heroic blues and reds.

“but why?”

you grin up at him, scooting a little closer.

“because it’s comfy. and smells like you.”

you’re delighted when you watch the blush blossom on his cheeks, all soft pink awkwardness. he averts his gaze, turning his attention back to the video on his phone. you shrug and grab a nearby comic - seance dog, again, because markus sebastian grayson totally isn’t seance dog’s biggest fan. nope. doesn’t have every collectible on earth.

you’ve juuust started to get invested in the plot, something about a meteor shower the loyal hero must stop to protect billions from dying, when mark groans again, his hand leaving the sleeve of your t-shirt to cover his eyes.

“dramatic much?”

a muffled groan. you cup your ear, the back of your hand brushing his thigh, the corded muscle of it tensing by a fraction under your skin.

“sorry, what was that?”

“people are dogs. just… look at the comments!”

you lean back further into him, craning your neck.

“if you’re not planning on reading some out loud, at least lower your damn phone before i break my neck.”

he complies with a grumble, arms framing your head as he holds up his phone for you to see the comments. your eyes widen upon seeing the amount of views under the video.

“one million? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you scroll down the comment section, the heat of mark seeping into you, your index near his thumb. progressively, your eyebrows raise. something like giddiness takes hold of your heart. people are dogs. you see it all, from people commenting on how sick that coat is, to complaints about property damage, to-

“no way. ‘i just know they be fucking nasty?!’ ”

“that’s one of the tamest ones. someone wrote a literal fanfiction in there.”

you look up at him, neck craned back. mark swears he’s never seen a sight as endearing as this one. you, snuggled up against him, drowning in his favourite shirt, so close he’s freely running his fingers over your shoulder, thumb occasionally creeping up your trapezius.

“you are not shaming fanfiction on my watch, grayson.”

“it’s about us!”

you poke his thigh. he twitches uncomfortably.

“like you haven’t read at least one.”

he flicks your forehead. you squeal, grinning wide.

“you can’t prove anything.”

a pointed look.

“fine. yes, i have. it’s… i don’t know. weird.”

you turn around, flipping on your belly, palms cradling your cheek as you look up at him. his breath hitches in his throat. you’re playing with the hem of his shirt absently, nails lightly scratching the navy fabric, the back of your fingers a light pressure on his adonis belt. you narrow your eyes, and he’s able to make out each individual lashes fanning your cheeks.

there, in the quiet light of melting sunset, molten golds and pinks frame the edges of your face. he wants to cradle your cheek. he wants to trace the slope of your nose like you do his, down to your split lip, still swollen from that bastard king lizard punching you in the face. he wants-

“you do know invincible shadow is a thing, right?”

he blinks back to reality.

“uh? like a ship name?”

you nod, still fiddling with the hem of his shirt. despite the cool air breezing in past his open window, heat creeps up his neck. his fingers flex in the sheets, nails digging in the cotton threads - egyptian cotton, because dad knows a guy who owes him a favour or two and you don’t say no to omni-man anyway.

“yeah. a ship name. super popular too. crazy, right?”

right. right. like you’re totally not molding your body to his. he can feel you, down to the bone, pressing against him, skin impossibly soft, lightly smelling of his own laundry detergent, something barely there because viltrumite senses are sharp. he feels the pounding of your heart in his throat, the way your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them.

“yeah,” he mumbles, voice a little choked. “crazy.”

and fuck, where’s his bravado? fighting alongside you as invincible, when all you can see of each other are smiling, grinning, bloodied mouths, blood drip dripping down chins, is easy.

he thinks you might as well be a part of him, with how the two of you move around each other like you know what the other thinks. he has your six, you have his. his fists back you up at the slightest inconvenience, your shadows ripple whenever someone gets so much as an inch closer to him.

it’s easy. when he snatches you by the waist after a mission, pressing you close enough to inhale the marrow of you without burying his nose in your hair - doesn’t need to. viltrumite senses are sharp, y’know.

when he zooms insides the drive thru and orders your favourite - that one greasy cheeseburger with french fries. when you remind him for the nth time that, first of all, there’s no way these qualify as fries. this is mcdonald's, for christ’s sake. second, fries are belgian, and- and that’s no reason to steal your fries, dammit!

it’s easy, being with you. when you’re sitting together, shoulder to shoulder on the edge of a skyscraper, your head lolling on his shoulder because you get sleepy once the adrenaline dies down.

it’s easy. he thinks he’s going to die of a heart attack, with how fast it’s beating. here lies markus sebastian grayson, killed because his best friend is too beautiful for this world and sent him into damn cardiac arrest.

the day melts away. you don’t talk anymore, just bask in each other’s presence, his hand in your hair, your cheek a little beside his knee. his thumb brushes a fading bruise on your cheek bone and he winces in sympathy.

your fingertips run over his knuckles, finding them bruised and torn. you want to press your lips to them. you want to cradle him against you and never let go, because hero work may suck, and his civilian friends may not understand what he goes through every day, getting bloody and beaten and worn down down down, but you’re here.

“so they ship us, huh?” mark mumbles.

“mm.”

“crazy.”

you snort.

“i already said that, dummy.”

he flicks your forehead.

“m’not dumb.”

“are too!”

“that is not true.”

“please, you’re like. the embodiment of the jock stereotype. the kind jock, of course.”

he rolls his eyes, ruffling your hair, ignoring your soft cry of protest because it’s hair day, nooo don’t mess it up!

“i’ll have you know, i have more than decent grades.”

“they’ve been slipping ever since you started out as invincible, though.”

“ouch.”

you chuckle.

“you do have the physique though.”

“yeah, whateve- ow!”

he looks down at you incredulously. did you just… bite his thigh?

your teeth press against the corded muscle, bone over tender skin, a hint of warmth from your breath, and he thinks he’s dying. everything is too hot. too fucking hot, nevermind that it’s the middle of autumn and the air is getting colder and colder.

shit. he sees the imprint of you in his skin. his hips shift uncomfortably. your tongue laps at the bitemark, soothingly. it’s almost tender, the softness of your tongue against him, scorchingly intimate.

your eyes meet his. time stops. he’s only aware of the metronome beat of his heart and your own - fuck, he can hear your heart, the way the blood rushes south. he lets out a shuddering sigh, and almost moans when he smells it. your arousal.

something snaps.

you’re kissing up his thigh, lips a lover’s breeze over his skin, the dips and curves of his muscles. you feel him gasp more than you hear it, when you put your mouth to him through his briefs, pressing soft little kisses to his bulge.

his fingers cup the back of your neck, weave through your hair, a gentle pressure, desperately trying to keep his strength under control. he could crush you like he did with komodo dragon, brain matter staining his fingers, drip drip dripping down to the ground. he doesn’t.

he doesn’t, yet you can feel him strain against the weight of his desire, tensing beneath you, breath shallow and wanting. you nip at his thigh again, a gentle press of tender teeth. he shivers, legs parting for you.

you nuzzle against him, feel the sheer heat of him against your cheek, like the warmth of a blazing sun. you want to melt into him until you don’t know where you start and where he ends.

“w-wait,” he groans.

heat pools between your legs, and it’s hot, and - and his hand cups your face and he pulls you in until finally, he’s kissing you. it’s soft. a brush of his lips against yours, until you’re melting against him, arching into him because his hand - broad and calloused and heavy - is cupping your breast.

he pulls you close before you can react, lips brushing yours again and again until you’re not sure you can breathe without him. your nose brushes his. your eyes open and you meet his, dark pools of molten desire.

“hey, you.”

“hey.”

he grins, something a little soft, a little shy. you inch closer and bite back a soft whimper when the motion has your core grinding down against his hardening cock. it strikes you, then. the thin edge you’re walking. he’s your friend. you can still back away. pull away, mumble something about your mama calling you - and it’s quite the walk, so you should go home-

fuck it.

you trace the shape of his abs, nails digging in his skin, and he arches into you, hips bucking up, desperate for friction. you’re dizzy. dizzy with him, with the way his hands encircle your hips, with the way his fingers dig into you, grinding you down on him with barely controlled strength.

“mark-” you gasp.

it’s not enough. doesn’t matter, there’s too much fabric between you, you’re not close enough, you need him in you, you need him to make himself at home between your ribs and burrow himself there, bloody and viscous and yours.

he cups your cheek, thumb brushing against the plush of your lower lip, gaze impossibly soft.

“have you ever… ?”

you flush a little.

“n-no.”

he pecks your nose, your forehead, your eyelids.

“s’okay. lemme make you feel good…”

he pins you down, fingers slipping under your shirt until he pulls it off you, discards it in the corner of his room. he runs his fingers up your side, brushing against your bruised ribs, lips ghosting the contusion, knees bracketing your hips. you shiver, lips parting in a soft sigh of his name. he grins down at you, a little soft, a little feral, a white flash of too-sharp teeth.

“so, so pretty…” he mumbles, mouthing at your neck, teeth dragging up, up, up, until-

until you let out the softest whimper. he grins against your skin, nipping at your neck, his breath burning brands on that soft spot under your ear. his hands roam your body, trailing lower and lower, dipping past the waistband of your boxers.

“so wet,” he moans, and he sounds as wrecked as he’s making you feel.

his touch is tentative, you can feel the trembling of his fingers as they brush against you, lightly dipping between your folds, almost.. almost petting you. your hips grind against his hand, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist to get him to please, please more-

he tuts, pinning your arm to the side.

“no, no, no, lemme- just relax, i need- please, i want to make you feel good-”

you bring up your other arm willingly for him to keep pressed against his pillow, fingers flexing against your wrist in an unbreakable grip. your thighs part for him and you desperately try not to moan, because- fuck, because his dad may be home, you think, and what if you’re too loud, what if-

he curls his fingers - so pretty and slender and long - and you keen, back arching off the bed. he laughs at that, something breathless and teasing, claiming your lips for himself again and again and again, swallowing your moans. his tongue coaxes your lips open and he lets out a low growl as he finally gets to taste you.

you think he made you come. you’re not sure. you’re panting. there’s a ringing in your ear. everything is too loud, too much. you’re overwhelmed, maybe. there’s a metallic taste on your tongue - he bit you - there’s a ringing in your ear, and everything is too much-

mark worries his lip between his teeth, tugging down your boxers, fumbling a little, eager, so very eager to taste you, to make you feel as good as you do him.

you’re squirming in his grip, you realise, distantly, as you try to press closer to him, breasts brushing tantalizingly against the fabric of his shirt and-

“what’s wrong?

“i need- please let me touch you, mark.”

he blinks, a little owlishly.

“you- yeah, yeah okay-”

he lets go of your wrists and your hands slip under his shirt, nails raking down his chest, a thumb teasing his nipple and he groans, panting hot against your neck. his hips rut against yours, mindlessly, each thrusts having you biting your lips because the friction is just too much and- and he’s cupping your breasts, mouthing at them.

“ah!”

“too much?”

your breath catches in your throat. he’s looking up at you, chin resting on your chest, a lazy smirk on his lips, one long finger lazily trailing around your nipple, thumb flicking at it. and fuck, the way he looks at you, eyes dark and wanting, like you’re the most precious thing in the universe…

“fuck me.”

he raises an eyebrow.

“are you su- mn...”

you pull him to you, hands cupping his cheeks, kissing him like he’s the very air you breathe. the earth rotates around the sun. the sky appears blue to the human eye. you’re in love with mark grayson.

he knows, you think. with the way you whisper soft praises against his ear, with the way your fingers thread through the baby hairs on his nape. he knows.

he takes it slow. leans back on his heels, taking off his shirt. the moon is kind to him, silver light hiding in the dips of his collarbones, draping the sharpness of his chest, his abs, rippling down his arms, to the edge of the veins curling around his inner wrist.

you trace the shape of him, your touch reverent. he guides you, leading your hand from his chest, from the strong beat of his heart, to his adonis belt. you think you’re dying with how dizzy you feel, your thighs desperately pressed together for some friction.

your fingers wrap around the base of him and you let out a strangled sound. he’s big. he-

“fuck, you’re never gonna fit-”

he laughs at that.

“wanna bet?”

you groan.

“you’re horrible. you’re not the one getting nine inches of your crush-”

his eyes widen. you flush, mortified, eyes darting away, your grip on him faltering. gently, he tilts your head back towards him.

“yeah?”

you nod.

“yeah.”

he pecks your lips, gentle.

“me too.”

he eases you into it. takes you apart, bit by bit, until you’re dripping for him, babbling an incoherent mess of his name as his fingers spread you open, knuckle deep in you. when he lines himself up with you, leaking tip dragging against your entrance, he groans, low and deep and primal in a way that makes your core throb with need.

a damn tease is what he is, with the way he barely slides in you, tip sliding against your cunt with wet, sloppy little sounds, lightly brushing against your clit in a way that has you biting back a desperate little whine. he pants.

“need- fuck, baby i need you, please lemme-”

“yeah, yeah mark, just-”

your words die on your tongue when he slowly pushes himself into you, holding your thighs apart. he bites his lip at the sight. you, spread wide under him, chest littered with love bites, lips parted as you whisper his name. you, nails digging in his shoulder blades until you draw blood, begging him to please, please get closer. he spreads you open, thumbs holding your folds apart, watching as your walls flutter against him, as you drip down his length, slick and filthy.

“please, move,” you whisper. “i can take it, i need-”

“yeah? you need me?”

“mn.”

he smiles at that, a happy little lopsided smile, as he slowly starts thrusting into you, biting back a groan at how tight you are.

“shit, baby-”

he pulls you up, hand cupping the back of your neck as he plunders your mouth, lightly suckling on your tongue. he’s everywhere, hands reaching for you, pulling you closer, and closer, until your chest is flush to him and he’s fucking himself into you with reckless abandon, hips snapping against yours.

and what else can you do but take it? but wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer, nipping at his earlobe, the vein jutting out of his neck. but let your nails dig in his back and feel his muscles ripple with contained strength - and fuck, if the thought of him holding back for your sake doesn’t make you wetter.

“m’gonna cum, mark-”

he grins at that, something like a broken chuckle escaping his kiss swollen lips. he tilts your head back, one hand on your hip as he drills himself in you, the other under your chin.

“yeah? gonna cum for me, baby?”

you nod, heat burning across your cheeks, your chest, your core. he hums, hand pressing against your abdomen, where he can feel himself move in you. satisfaction flashes in his gaze, at having you this full of him. (at having you.)

“good girl.”

that does it for you. you come apart, face buried in the crook of his neck, choking on his name. there’s that ringing in your ear. you think you hear him chuckle. you do know that he slides out of you, leaving you empty, hollow, and you reach for him with a soft whine of protest. he leads your hand to his leaking cock, guiding you, hips stuttering towards you as you pump his length, until he cums, thick ropes of it landing on his stomach, on your hand.

everything is still. he reaches for the tissues on the nightstand and cleans the slick mess between your thigh, something like longing on his face. his eyes meet yours, and you feel heat creep up your neck, gaze darting away from his, stuck on the way he wipes away his cum, abs rippling under the crumpled tissues.

“what?” you mumble.

“next time, i’ll eat you out.”

you let out something like an undignified squeal, burying your face in your hands. he laughs. strokes your cheek, lowering you down on the mattress, cradling you against him. he pulls the covers over you, a hand on your hip, the other lacing with yours.

“feel okay?”

you smile, a little sleepy, nuzzling against him, pressing a soft kiss to the hello kitty bandaid on his nose.

“mn.” you let your finger trail down the slope of his nose. “love you.”

he gives you a closed-eye smile, and you think you’ve met your sun.

“love you too.”

#obticeo writes #invincible show #invincible smut #invincible x reader #invincible x y/n #invincible x you #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson smut #invincible series #invincible season 3

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errruvande · 3 months ago

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I found someone who's gonna talk with me about about G Dragon 24/7 😭 She was so close this whole damn time, she's my bestie's friend. We've already talked for like 3 hours and she's fed me 26$72872819 pics of soft goofy GD I wanna cry

#I'm not lying i can sell my soul for nowadays GD he's just too damn good #i love the goofy man okay #she was like “sending a video from TikTok talking about how people now make fun of him calling him a freak when back in the days everything #anyone could do to him is literally suck his dick lmao #and i just metally looked her in the eyes and typed #i actually fell in love with this mama dorky g dragon not the young one lmao #no making fun of him only staning the og #idk he has some absolutely incredible power over me being this cute and soft as he is right now #and fuck the wrong blog agggaaaaaaaainnnn 😭😭😭#and I'm too sleepy to type this all again on the right blog so idc #bare with me being pathetic asf #gdragon #g dragon #kwon jiyong #bigbang

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 1 month ago

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Good enough

Tags: Caleb x fem!Reader, smut, unprotected angry sex, Caleb’s back and he’s jealous, breeding kink, mdni, not proofread sorry, this shit is NASTY i fear.

An: This one is for a dear friend of mine 🙂‍↕️ Thanks for making me pull out of my writer’s block. LOOK i’m so sorry if this is bad but i had to write SOMETHING to pull me out of this funk… i hope you all enjoy

How did you end up trapped underneath your half-cyborg best friend who was legally deceased while taking the meanest deep strokes of your life? Well, there’s a simple answer. Caleb knew Xavier was home.

Actually, he knew everything: the dates, the tender moments, the secret times, the nightly rendezvous. Pissed was an understatement.

Had you forgotten? Had you forgotten all the promises you two made each other when you were younger? Had you forgotten that you were fucking made for him? You had to have. That’s why you were stringing along 4 different guys. You were trying to fill a hole that only he could fill.

That had to be why.

Regardless, Caleb knew Xavier was the type to listen to you through the floorboards of his upstairs apartment. He was a lot alike Caleb in that sort of manner. They were both possessive freaks who couldn’t stand the thought of you being with somebody else.

That’s why Caleb was fucking you so hard — pounding your pretty pussy so deeply into the mattress that you were seeing stars with each mean thrust.

He used his size to his advantage. It was fitting. He’d always loved how much bigger he was than you. That’s how you received your adorned nickname: pipsqueak.

He planned on his first time with you being a lot more gentle than this. He planned on being sweet and loving. He planned on cherishing your body the way you deserve, but you just had to go and give yourself to 4 other guys before him.

“Stop crying.” His voice rumbled as his piercing gaze found yours — so much different than the sweet childhood friend you had. His hand covered your mouth as he hunched over your figure, still ramming his cock head into you ruthlessly. “I know you can take it. I’ve watched you take it before.”

Your eyes blinked back tears as you looked up at him. He was being so mean. You couldn’t believe this was the same doting Caleb that you grew up with, and you didn’t even want to think about the face he had been watching you…

“Fucking pussy’s made for me, and you’ve been letting other men try to make her feel good.” He growled as he used his less-than-human arm reach down and gently rub against your small button of nerves.

“Caleb-!” You choked out as your body writhed beneath him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock splitting you apart, making you wholly his and his alone.

“That’s right… Say my name, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” He prompted with a confident smirk before he hauled your legs up above his shoulders, sinking even deeper into your dripping cunt.

Clawing at the bed, your back arched as you tried to cope with the intrusion. He’s so fucking deep it feels like you’re going to choke on him. “Caleb-“ You sob as your cunt pitifully clenches around him.

Feeling you wrapped around him so sweetly, crying out his name as you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure has Caleb revitalized with a new vigor. His hips work in tight circles, pumping his fat cock in and out of you as your cunt makes the most obscene squelching noises he’s ever heard.

“Such a fucking noisy girl. I should’ve know you were going to be a crybaby.” He teased before placing open mouth kisses along your neck snd shoulder.

“W-wait Caleb- calebcalebcaleb. I’m gonna..” You pant out nervously as his metal fingers were still rubbing languid circled around your cunt, and his tip was smooshing globs of precum against your cervix.

His fingers suddenly pinch down on your clit, making you cry out from the sensation. Your body went taut as you were being dangled on the edge of pleasure. His robotic arm wasn’t quite letting you get there.

You thought his arm was literally malfunctioning until you heard him chuckle from your suffering.

“You’re going to cum when I saw you can, okay baby?” He asked in that same condescending tone he always used when you two were younger.

His hips continued to roll after he was sure that you weren’t going to fall off the deep end, and he let out deep guttural groans, feeling your pretty pussy soak him. It was like you were practically trying to suck him in. He couldn’t believe he had waited this long to sink into your cunt like this.

and the best part about it was he knew your stupid upstairs neighbor was listening! Xavier knew you were down here getting railed, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Hell, if he even tried, Caleb would use his evol and force him kneel beside the bed as he drilled you even harder.

Fuck, the thought of slutting you out in front of every single one of your little boyfriends had his stomach tightening. His hips snapped forward into you with a pace that could only be described as feral.

You were a complete babbling mess at this point — utterly cock drunk as Caleb had you folded in half, filling you up to the brim with his length.

“Ohhh, that’s my girl.” He purred as he saw your glossed over look. “It’s coming, baby. I’m going to give you want you need.” He promised as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that completely contradicted the ruthless way his hips were rutting into you.

“C-caleb- Caleb no, wait.. Don’t cum inside-“ You stuttered out in a panic. You hadn’t been by the pharmacy yet to pick up birth control, so technically, this was all unprotected.

“Why?” He growled as his back curled over. He was fucking mounting you while holding your thighs in the prettiest mating press he’d ever seen. “You fucking let them fill you up. Am I not good enough to breed this pussy?”

His hips slammed into you. It felt like he was trying to push his way straight into your womb. It was mind-numbing pleasure, making black orbs and stars dance across your vision.

“Look at me, baby.” He ordered, dragging your face to look back up at him. You could barely see straight. It was all too much. “You’re going to let your best friend breed you, and you’re gonna fucking love it. You’re going to cum all over this fat cock until you can’t breathe. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded your head, halfway hearing his words. Your pussy was aching to cum. Your swollen puffy folds were greedily accepting him in with every thrust. You wanted this. Birth control be damned. Everyone else be damned.

Caleb gritted his teeth together as he gave you a few more good harsh thrusts for good measure. He then crushed his body against yours, burying himself all the way to your womb before his cock started to jerk and pulse inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his thick potent cum. The only thing on his mind was the need to see you, his childhood best friend, round with his baby.

He needed to see the look on each other of those pricks’ faces when they realized you were spoken for.

The cherry on top was when he felt your walls clenching around him, happily milking his cock for everything he had while you sobbed and hiccuped his name. It seemed like his childhood best friend was maybe just as twisted as he was. He’d have to give her an extra good reward for being such a good girl.

As the room went still and quiet — only filled with shared breaths and pants for air, the sound of someone stabbing a sword through the ceiling was heard, and Caleb chuckled deeply. He had definitely pissed Xavier off.

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gojonanami · 11 months ago

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❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO YAKUZA HEIRS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS TO MARRY YOU ?? ❞

✧ pairing: yakuza!satoru gojo x f!reader x yakuza!suguru geto

✧ summary: you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, inspired / dialogue / scene concepts taken from the manga “yakuza fiance,” (which the fic is named after), reader's age is ambiguous, but all are 20s+, violence (as expected from mafia / yakuza stories), blood, stsg have tattoos, implied satosugu (just a passing mention of dating briefly), stsg have sadomasochistic tendencies, a little ooc, switch! gojo (very sub gojo), switch! geto, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), double penetration, sex (p in v), creampie, poly relationship implied ending,

✧ wc: 18,476

“I don’t want to marry either of you,”

And your statement is met with confused stares — and normally stares like this wouldn’t be terrifying to the average person, but these were not average men you were dealing with.

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were anything but average — in many ways.

Both were incredibly handsome — Satoru was blessed with a piercing blue gaze of the heavens and snow white locks that could stun any person into silence, and Suguru was no slouch either — with long inky black locks tied into a neat bun and his sharp features and his almost all too alluring smile — the two of them looked like they belonged to a modeling agency. Both were also brilliant, attending one of the best high schools in Tokyo, before going to the best university, leading in their respective specialities (Satoru studying physics, while Suguru chose literature).

And, the two were both the heirs to two of the most dangerous Yakuza families in all of Japan.

But right now, they are your biggest problems, personified.

Their families were both vying for your hand in marriage — thanks to your meddling grandfather who shipped you off to Tokyo to get a would-be Yakuza husband — your yakuza family hoping to broker peace after decades upon decades of fighting with one of the other two biggest yakuza families around — the Gojo and Geto families respectively.

“Excuse me?” Suguru speaks first, a single eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his crisp white button up.

“I’m not here for this yakuza bullshit. I’m trying to live my own life — and I’m not in the mood to get swept along in my grandfather’s wishes for me to get married,” your hand is in your bag, fingers curled around your collapsible metal pole, “and I don’t care to know either of you, I don’t really care to stick around you — especially because all its earned me is the disdain of all the other students who have crushes on you — so how about we simply tolerate each other for this year?”

Satoru whistles, “how disappointing,” his eyes raking over you from head to toe, “you’re worse than your reputation — we heard you were a stuck-up, spoiled rich girl that would do anything to get her way, but turns out you’re just normal,” he sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging noise, “how boring,”

“Truly tiresome,” Suguru hums, his bangs falling in his dark gaze, “I was looking forward to a woman who could match up to us — maybe fuck me up, punish me, and strip away my dignity — type of girl who’d ruin my life, do you understand?”

You stare at him, lips parted, brow furrowed, “What?”

“In other words, we were hoping you were much more interesting than you were — as you are now, you’re just useless,” Satoru sighs dramatically, his pink lips curled in a smile, “bor-inggggg,”

“You might as well go back to Osaka, or wherever it was you came from,” Suguru shrugs, hands in his pockets, as he pulls a cigarette and a lighter, “you could stay, but as it stands, you would be better off back home — maybe it would even start a war — that could be fun, Satoru,” he remarks, his grin growing more sinister by the minute, as he places the cigarette between his lips, and lighting it.

“Let’s actually not be so hasty, Suguru. She could have some use,” he holds out his fingers to frame you between them, “could be worth something if we have her work at one of our families clubs — selling her body. She could make some use for us,” he says cruelly, “Otherwise, go back home, and let them know we’re the ones not interested in you,” he says, brushing past you along with Suguru.

And you couldn’t decide which one of their smiles were the most bone chilling — and why you couldn’t quite find your voice in that moment. And you didn’t — not until you finally reached home, your phone ringing.

“How’s it going, dear granddaughter?” you could hear the grin of the old coot even over the phone — and how could you tell him you wanted to go home now? You had hoped to go there to give two rejections — not earn two of your own. You hoped to stick out the year before leaving this place behind, if only to appease your grandfather.

“I’m fine, but I think…I think I’m homesick,” you sit on the edge of your bed, hunched over, hand holding your head up, propped against your knee.

“Why’s that? Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I just—”

“You’re not coming back home,” and your hopes fall, “one year, you have to stay one year no matter what. Don’t care if you have to fight with every bone in your body and fiber of your being — last a year,”

“But why—”

“Make those boys fall for you, and then break their hearts, heh — your grandfather is a heartbreaker and I know you can do the same,” and you know his lips are curled in a smile not too dissimilar to the two men you met today, “don’t forget where you come from — and what you’re worth,” and he cuts the line, as you stare at your phone, before tossing it away and lying back.

Well, you know what you had to do.

~~~

“Morning,” you know where’d they be — the only free period they had together that they spent in the dining hall with their entourage — including some girls who had been harassing you about how you knew the pair — ones you had suspected in fucking with your locker, smearing mud all over your shoes. A small retaliation for capturing their precious crushes’ attention.

The two heirs only stare for a moment — it had been two weeks since they had seen you, “thought I had gone home?”

“Surprised you didn’t,” Suguru remarks, utterly disinterested from the look in his eyes, despite the smile plastered on his lips, “guess I lost the bet, Satoru,”

You raise an eyebrow at Satoru, “you thought I’d stay?”

“Thought you'd stay to take me up on my offer to sell your body,” he holds out his hand as Suguru slaps a stack of bills in his palm, “did you?”

“I did actually,” your lips curl, as their gazes slide to one another, before you drop a bag on their table, “one kidney, 5,000,000 yen,” and you take delight in the smiles that slide off their expressions, as they stare at you, Satoru looking over the lip of the bag before you knocked it over and let the stacks of money spill over the table, “it took two weeks since it took a while to arrange and recover, but it was well worth it,”

The pair only can stare — expression unreadable and words seemingly stolen from their mouths, as you only smiled down at them, your gaze digging into their faces like daggers.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit together, “How did you—“

“Friend of a friend,” you shrug, “I’ll have to be on a low sodium diet and probably do blood work a little more frequently but you were right about one thing — I was being weak,” you lift up your shirt to show the bandage on your side, their eyes wide, as they can only stare, “I won’t be making that mistake again,”

And you place your foot up on their table, leaning in, as the mask slips from your face, and your anger surges forth, “listen here, you masochistic fuckers, I’m not scared of either one of you. I don’t care if I have to crawl home choking on my own blood, I’ll be sure you’re choking on each other’s as I drag you both to hell. I’m staying here, whether either of you like it or not,”

“You can’t talk to them like that—“ one of the girls pipes up, her lips twisted in a frown.

“I can talk to them however I want - do you know who I am? I come from a family just like there’s but we actually know how to cover up our crimes,” you chuckle, head tilting, “do you know how easy it’d be to get rid of you two?” Your gaze slides to the other girl, “it’d be all too simple — and trust me, I’d get my hands dirty if it’s the two of you,” your lips curl into a wide grin as you add, “after all, you guys did me the favor of dirtying my shoes already,”

And the two blanch white, all indignance replaced with genuine fear — and you had never known someone could look at you as someone to be feared.

And you didn’t know you would like it so much.

You staple the smile on your face again, as the two heirs still sit speechless in their seats, eyes glued to you, “Well that’s all,” you slide back, “I have to head to class—”

But then your wrists are caught — pulling you back, as you find yourself pinned on either side by the two heirs, your body tense, before your gaze slides between them, “What?”

“Marry me,” they both say simultaneously — and you gape at them.

You are pushing them back, palms pressed against their chests, but find yourself met with two immovable objects, instead trying to squirm out of their grips. “What?” And their grips loosen enough for you to take a step back, but their hands remain around your wrists.

“I have to have you,” Suguru presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, dark gaze lidded as he looks up at you, and a shiver climbs up your spine, “I’ve never been so terrified or turned on in my life — it must be love,”

Satoru is the same, mesmerized with eager words, “I want you to do what you promised, Princess — ruin my life,” Satoru’s lips curled in a wide grin, “want you to completely fuck me up, dominate my entire life — and there’s only one way to do that, marry me,”

Suguru only scowls at Satoru, “You know Satoru, it’s very rude to propose after your best friend does,” Suguru’s gaze slides to him, “she’s mine,” and his other hand finds your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, even as you struggle against their grips, “her family reached out to mine first,”

“Fuckers, I swear to god, let me go—“ but they act as if they can’t hear you, a current of possessiveness sweeping their thoughts away.

“So what? Her family decided to ask for my hand — looks like yours wasn’t good enough,” Satoru only grins, pulling you against him instead, his breath warming your flushed skin, as you grimace, “and I’d make her happier than you ever would.”

“Want to take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru’s glare sent chills down your spine, but Satoru’s lips split into a smile so wide, you were afraid his head would crack in two.

“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”

And finally you stomp on Satoru’s foot before elbowing Suguru in the stomach, drawing groans from both boys, as you stumble away from them, whirling to face them, “Don’t treat me like your goddamn property or that I’m a prize to be won,” your words slip like venom from your lips, “don’t ever fucking touch me without asking,”

“Of course, we’re sorry,” Suguru only grins after, holding his stomach, but he still looks all too delighted, “you should reprimand us like the scum we are, isn’t that right Satoru?”

Satoru nods, pouting, “Yeah we deserve more of a punishment,” and your skin crawls at their eagerness.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you two, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” you walk away, hiding your dumbstruck expression, but the two only followed you.

“You can’t just walk away from us, you have to decide who you want,” Suguru calls after you, their long strides meant they caught up all too fast, and you’re armed with your collapsible pole now, pointing it at both of them.

“Two minutes ago, both of you thought I was normal and boring,” your eyes narrow — was this another plot to just sell you to some club?

“And I’m sorry about that sweetheart,” Satoru’s arm is around your waist again, while Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, “we were clearly wrong — and you have to take responsibility,”

You stare at them, “for what?”

And he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “I’m so hard for you right now,” And you’re whirling on them with the pole, but they both expertly dodge your assault, before you’re hurrying away. But they let you go, watching after you with a grin.

“This is going to be fun,” Suguru remarks, looking at his best friend, “I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you for her hand,”

Satoru only smirks in reply, “You stole the words out of my mouth, Suguru.”

~~~

It had been a week — a week of you trying skillfully to evade the two yakuza heirs.

And you had failed. No matter how fast you left your classes, where you hid, where you sat — the two always found you. And now you have resorted to sitting outside to eat your lunch, being careful to avoid any stray glance of your presence. You sat, back against the building, as you held your head, bento box in your lap — how long until they would get the message? How long until they figured out you wanted nothing to do with them?

Your grandpa had told you to make them fall for you, but you didn’t think you had too much more to do with how the two were following you around, dogging your every step.

How would you last another year?

You opened your bento — at least for once, you could enjoy your lunch without one of them—

“There you are,” and your lunch nearly goes tumbling out of your lap, but you grasp it, keeping your food from spilling out of your bento, and you turn to meet the gaze of Suguru, leaning against the windowsill, “you’re a fast one, sweetheart,” his head tilted and lips curled in his signature smile.

“How the fuck did you find me so fast?” you stare at him, brow furrowed, “it’s barely been five minutes, and this campus is huge,”

“It’s the power of love, of course,” you cringe, and he laughs, bringing his knuckles to his lips, “oh rather, it’s the power of the tracking device I slipped in your bag,”

And you blink, “You what?”

He shrugs, “Well how else would I have found you so quickly? I’ll slip it in your shoe next time,” and he sighs, as you dig through your bag, before turning it upside down and letting your things spill out on the grass, “besides, there’s a good reason I’m tracking you,” and you find the tracker before stomping on it, digging your heel into it, crushing it into the dirt, “there’s been a kidnapping of another Yakuza heiress,”

And your eyes flit to him, and he’s still smiling at you, “Who?” you continue to collect your things, shaking out textbooks and examining your things for any other hidden trackers.

“You’ll learn tonight — come to the compound tonight — you’ve been formally invited by both my father and Satoru’s father,” and he’s hopping out of the window, fingers brushing yours as he hands you your pencil case, and he’s all too close now, his warm breath warming your lips.

“And if I refuse?” and his lips curl in a smirk.

“You’d be offending not only my family, but Satoru’s as well—” and he’s rising to his feet, offering you a hand, “and it might end in an all out war, but that would be just fine for us — would it for you?”

You glare at him, taking his hand reluctantly, as he helps you to your feet, and you brush the dirt from your skirt and legs, “Fine, what time?”

“After school, Satoru will be waiting by the gates for you,” he smiles, as he settles next to you, pulling out his own lunch, and you tilt your head, “oh are you curious about me? I have my own business to attend to,”

“Is that what the other bastard is up to?” and he chuckles at that, taking a bite of his food.

“Something like that.”

~~~~

“Took you long enough, pretty,” the Gojo heir’s eyes drag over you like spotlights as he leans against the gate outside, the other students staring as you two speak, whispering as they walk by, slowing down to either catch a longer glance at Satoru or hear a bit of your conversation, “with being so quick to leave for lunch, I thought you’d be just as quick leaving the building,” and he’s offering you a drink from the vending machine that you reluctantly take.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a spectacle,” you grumble, as you power walk away from the burgeoning traffic jam that Satoru was causing, and he follows behind, “why do they all stare anyway? They know you're a yakuza, don’t they?”

“Part of the draw,” he shrugs, the hiss of his own soda filling the air as he pops it open, “everyone wants what they can’t have, but don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, sweetheart,” you grimace as he sips at his soda, raising an eyebrow, “so what can’t you have?”

You both finally reach the heart of the city, bustling with people left and right — the one thing you couldn’t get used to from the quieter life you led, “Some peace and quiet, apparently,” you adjust your bag on your shoulder in a tighter grip, if only you could lose him in this crowd and be done with all this shit, but it wasn’t that simple, and then it occurs to you, “did you put a tracker on me as well?”

“Nah, I just used Suguru’s,” he smiles, as he downs the rest of his drink with his head thrown back, before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away in the recycling bin nearby, “plus, I didn’t have time, been busy with other things, unfortunately,”

“What things have you—”

And you’re suddenly tugged into an alleyway, an arm around your neck and a hand clamped over your mouth, “Don’t struggle, it will only make it more difficult for you,” the man whispers in your ear, as another two men draw closer to your sides, “we’ll kill you if you do,”

You can’t scream, but you don’t need to — because the man who grabbed you screams first.

“Who the fuck are—” and he screams, his hands slipping from your side, the thump of his body against the pavement making you flinch, as you slowly turn to find Gojo, as he only glares at the other men, before his gaze slides to you, softening with a smile.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, come here,” and you swallow, before taking shaky steps to his side, and he’s pulling you behind him, “wait here,”

It happens far too quickly.

Or maybe it’s just a blur now. Because now he’s beaten the three men into submission, their scarlet blood splattering against his uniform, the wet squelch of their flesh as he punches and kicks them, his shoe digging into their sides. He winds his fist back again.

“That’s enough,” you say hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “they’re barely alive,”

“More than they deserve,” he mutters, before sighing and grabbing one by his shirt, fabric straining against the dead weight of the man, and pulls him close, his hand connecting with his face as he slaps him awake, “You hear me? Listen,” he shakes him, until the man’s eyes blink open, bleary, “You see me? Don’t forget my face. You touch her again — and it’s the last thing you’ll see before the afterlife, got that?”

“Yes,” the man slurs.

“That’s my girl,” he jerks his head at you, “she’s mine and if you or any of your stupid friends or family see her, don’t talk or touch her, much less even look at her,” and his lips curl again, “or I promise my family and the Geto family will slaughter you — until there’s nothing left.” and he drops the man onto the ground, “let’s go,” he mutters, shaking the blood off his knuckles, before using the inside of his uniform jacket to wipe the rest off.

“Your uniform, it's—” and he glances at the blood seeping into the fabric of his jacket and crisp shirt, and you’re digging through your bag, “I have my hand towel and some—” and he’s shaking his head.

“I have a sweatshirt I can wear in my bag,” and he’s tugging off his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, and you can’t look away fast enough — not before seeing the tattoo littering his back.

A large lion against his back, seemingly roaring, against a backdrop of bamboo, stared back at you, as your breath catches in your throat — he wasn’t just a spoiled heir, he was a real yakuza. And what he did to those men — his eyes met yours again, as he tugged the sweatshirt on, lips still in that ridiculous smile — it was likely the least of what he could really do to them.

“Oh, sorry, guess I never told ya,” he pulls the orange sweatshirt down, pulling a pair of sunglasses on, and your horrified expression in the circular black rims stare back at you, “sorry for scaring you, sweetheart,”

“You’re really—” you cut off, heart caught in your throat. Yeah, you had spent too much of your life surrounded by men covered in tattoos, but these two — their auras — were on another level that was simply — terrifying.

“A yakuza?” he finishes, peering at you over the rim of his sunglasses, “Surprised it took you this long to figure out — thought you had that pieced together a while ago — what? I assume your family shielded you from that kind of violence — probably had guards on you 24/7 so no one would mess with you. Well you aren’t in Osaka anymore,” his fingers intertwined with yours, his larger hand engulfing yours as he tugs you along away from the alley, the faint groans of the men disappearing into the ambient noise of the city, “Stay close, princess.”

And you flushed, biting your lip. There was a lot you didn’t know, but you knew you better learn — you spare one glance back at the alley — and quick.

~~~

You both arrive back to the compound, as you’re funneled into a room, you get a glimpse of Suguru in an adjacent hallway, his clothes as bloodied as Satoru’s was, if not more. His dark eyes catch yours and his lips curl, as he holds his hand up as a greeting, mouthing, “Yo,”

You’re shepherded away to sit, and soon enough, Satoru and Suguru join you, as you fidget in the middle of the room, the three of you sit on cushions, while another cushion directly in front of you. Your fingers can't help but toy with the ribbon on the front of your uniform — what if this was just a ruse to sell you off? Maybe they even found out about you selling your kidney? Anxiety swirled in your mind, dragging down your body to even the tips of your toes, your body buzzing and stinging with thoughts.

“This really is just a talk to discuss the missing Yakuza heiress,” Suguru cuts through your thoughts, as you stare at him, slack jawed, and he only shrugs, leaning back against his hands flat on the floor, “you’re not hard to read, sweetheart,”

“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, why not let you die in that alleyway?” Satoru chimes in, ever so helpful, as you glare at him, before his gaze slides to Suguru, “did you take care of that like I asked, Suguru?” and he nods, and before you can ask a question, the door slides open.

Instead of the heads of the household, a yakuza comes in, sunglasses stare back at you, his dark brown hair slicked back, shaved on the sides of his head, as he stared down at the three of you, “The heads won’t be able to make it to this meeting — something has come up,”

“Yaga, good to see you,” Suguru chirps, while Satoru only sighs, hands behind his head.

“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself killed since you’ve been away, old man—“ and Satoru earns a fist to his head, “ow!”

“Keep it up and you’ll get something worse than a whack to the head,” Yaga grumbles, taking his seat, “you must be the girl,” he eyes you up and down, “I’ll get straight to the point — the Akazawa heiress is missing. She’s assumed to be kidnapped,” he hands you a photo of her — shoulder length black hair, her eyes look past the camera, her head tilted downwards, but her hazel eyes pierce through the picture.

“How long has she been gone?” Suguru asks, “any chance that she just ran off?”

“There’s a chance she’s been sold off for a couple hundred thou,” Satoru remarks, crossing his arms, “people would pay a premium for a yakuza heiress,” and his eyes slide to you, and you glare back.

“We don’t know — maybe she ran off, maybe she’s been sold, maybe there’ll be a ransom coming in at one point or another, or maybe she’s dead—” and you bite your lip, “but we can’t take the risk, especially since we have a similar heiress under our care now,” Yaga says, crossing his arms with a hefty sigh, “that being said, you’ll be staying at the compound until further notice— your things have already been brought here,“ you gape at him, mouth nearly hanging open, “and you’ll have Satoru or Suguru with you at all times — their schedules have been rearranged to have class with you,”

“But—“ and Yaga shoots a look at you that silences your protests.

“These orders came from the three heads, including your grandfather, would you like to defy them?” And your mouth clamps shut, your head falling.

“No, sir,” Yaga rises, leaving, but not before ordering the two heirs to show you where you’ll be staying, “and any real threats to you appear, and your classes will be made online and you will remain under guard in the compound,” Yaga adds before disappearing behind another door.

“It won’t be that bad, Princess,” Suguru grins, as they walk you to your room, “now we can really get to know each other before we’re married,”

“Don’t you mean before we’re married?” Satoru says, as Suguru only smiles back at him.

“I would rather not marry you, Satoru, dating you for a week was enough—“ and Satoru opens his mouth to reply.

“I’m not marrying either of you,” you rub your head, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping on your temples — you barely could make it through the day with enduring the amount of insanity these two already inflicted, you were sure you’d murder one or both of them if you had to spend 24/7 with them, “we should be keeping a low profile from now on, not going out—”

“Except for the dates we have planned,” Satoru says, offering you the key to your room, and you unlock the door, stepping inside.

“Especially not for those.” And you slam the door shut and lock it.

Your eyes take in the boxes that surround you, full of the things from your apartment, and sigh.

Fuck, this really was your life now, wasn’t it?

~~~

“Why are you staring at me?” you can’t ignore Suguru’s stare in the subway, even when you refuse to meet it. The light from the windows flooded into the subway, flickering as the carts sped by, as the two of you hung onto the grab handles. Your usual peaceful ride to university was now impeded by Suguru who stood by your side, his eyes seemingly glued to you.

“I see that your left side is slower to respond than your right,” and you shift under his gaze, “that’s why your bag is always on your left side, so you can spot a threat easier and have a stronger grip, smart,”

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you figure that out?”

He shrugs, “From observation — I also move a little slower on my left — I even blink slower,” and you face him, staring into his eyes, trying to notice any difference between the two eyes. The only thing you could see is how pretty they really were — dark and lidded, not as bright or striking as Satoru’s, but just as mysterious.

“I can’t tell,” you tilt your head, and he only smiles.

“There isn’t a difference, but I got you to stare into my eyes, didn’t I?” and you glower at him, your remark cut off by the influx of people flooding into the cart. Fuck, you never had seen it this full before. You forced yourself not to cringe under the tight quarters — you could handle this, it wasn’t a big deal, even as the people sandwiched themselves all around you, anxiety biting at your nerves. And then you’re knocked around by the crowd as the cart jerks, but then, Suguru is pulling you lightly so your back is pressed against a wall and he’s caging you in, his body protecting you.

Your breath catches — he’s so close, “You don’t have to—” and your gazes meet again, your breath catching, your bag caught between your bodies. He’s nearly pressed against you, the heat from his form seeps into your own. And he smells good, despite the sticky heat of the summer lingering — something musky but sharp at the same time — what was that scent?

“You seemed uncomfortable,” he says, his hand holding onto the grab handle above, “this seemed like the easiest solution, especially so I can protect you — it would be much easier to shield you with my body this way,”

“Shut up,” you grumble, as he chuckles, before you’re sighing, “I’m not used to taking the subway — I used to have a car that took me back and forth,” you chew your lip, “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself,”

“Makes sense to have you driven — as a yakuza heiress, they wanted precautions,” Suguru nods, his eyes sliding around the cart, “you never know,”

“Is that why your eyes keep scanning the subway cart?” you raise an eyebrow.

And his lips curl, “I did say I’d protect you with my life, didn’t I?”

“Did you mean that?”

A chuckle escaped his lips, a noise that makes your breath catch, as the cart jerks again, pressing you both even closer, “I never say anything that I don’t mean, princess.”

~~~

“Is following me around really necessary even after classes?” you hadn’t bothered to pull your usual disappearing act — it was counterproductive in multiple ways (the first being that either of them would find you and the second being you had to be glued to one of their sides at all times), “it’s not like someone is going jump from the shadows and kidnap me on campus.”

“You don’t know that for sure, do you, princess?” Satoru drawls lazily, as he twirls his dinner knife around his fingers with a skill that said he’d done it a million times before — probably instead of doing the thing he was supposed to be doing, “a man comes up behind you while you’re studying or shopping, presses a weapon or gun to your side, just out of view, and he’s got the perfect hostage,”

You raise an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve done it before,” and the knife stops between his middle finger and pointer, the tip pointed at you, as he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Don’t get jealous, sweetheart, you’re the only girl I’d want to kidnap,” he leans forward and swipes a mochi from your plate — even though he had already ate his own — and you scoff, as you turn your attention back to your neglected dessert, choosing to use your brain cells to focus on your food instead of this psycho.

“How lucky,” you mutter, as you stab your remaining mochi instead of your escort, “do the two of you have to take shifts like this? I’m surprised the two of you aren’t glued to my sides 24/7 together,”

“We thought it was only fair the two of us split our time — and as much as I’d like to spend each and every hour with you, we both unfortunately have other responsibilities to tend to,” and he takes a bite of the mochi, “plus, this way, we get to spend time with you alone without the other interfering, and trust me, if I saw you with Suguru,” his lips curl, “I’d interfere,”

“Well you don’t have to be worried about that, because I don’t plan on being with either one of you,” you reply, “I’m here to finish school and go home as soon as I can,”

“You won’t be saying that once I make you fall for me,”

You get to your feet, as you pull out your wallet — but Satoru waves you off, already pulling out his card for the waiter, “You’d have a better chance making me fall for you if you tripped me,” you roll your eyes, as you round the booth, and quick as a light, you trip right into his arms, your body bumping against his chest as his arms steady you. A hand tilts your face up to meet cerulean eyes filled with mirth, “did you trip—”

And then you spot the chair leg you had tripped over oh-so-gratefully, “I don’t need to resort to those measures to make you fall for me, princess,” his finger traces your jaw with a featherlight touch, “I have plenty of other ways to do that,”

You get to your feet properly and shove him away, as he chuckled, as you rolled your eyes, “Maybe in your twisted dreams, but—” And Satoru is tugging you away from the booth — a tight arm around you waist, as you stammer, “what the fuck are you—”

“Guy’s been following you — just spotted him from a distance,” he murmurs, and your shoulders tense, resisting the urge to look back, “just keep walking with me, don’t worry,” his arm gently squeezed you, “won’t let anything happen to you, princess,”

“Don’t call me that,” you murmur, as he leads you back inside the closest building, “where are we—” and he’s pulling out his phone, texting several people.

“Getting us a ride in case I need to get you to safety, and letting Suguru know of the situation,” he offers you a small grin, “I could send you back, but that would be that and you will be on lockdown. Things might be getting a little more interesting from here — so it’s your choice, will you stay or go?”

You considered your choices — you could run away from this, go back to the compound, but going back was a guarantee that you would be stuck 24/7 in the compound and stuck there for the remainder of your time here. And these two would take full advantage of that. Plus, your mind wandered to the girl who had been taken — you wanted to know more about what happened to her and why you were being targeted next.

“Let’s go,” and his lips curl. The two of you round several street corners, Satoru’s arm remains tight around your waist, as he leads to a more and more secluded corner of the city, “is this the right move?” your hand wanders into your pocket, fingers around your collapsible pole.

He sighs dramatically, “Do you have such little faith in me, sweetheart?”

“Considering the two of you are insane, yes, I do,” and he clicks his tongue at you, “where—”

And someone punches you, fist connecting with your left cheek as you stumble sideways into the wall of a nearby building. You hear the cock of a gun, your eyes catch sight of the weapon pointed at Satoru. You caught a glimpse as your eyes flicker open, several men stand behind him, all bearing weapons of some sort.

Your ears ring, as you clutch at your head, as you struggle to get your balance, your vision in your left eye blurry from the impact, “Come with me, and your girlfriend won’t have to watch you die,” you feel something warm run down your nose, and you touch it — scarlet stains your fingers.

Fuck.

Your eyes flicker back to where Satoru stands, eyes flickering to you, a shiver running down your spine at his hard gaze — not a hint of euphoria left — his lips a thin line, and his fists clenched, “I’ll fucking kill you,” his words leave in a whispered hiss, and quick as lightning, the gun is knocked from his fingers, and Satoru’s got him pinned down, fist winding back to punch his head in. The other men don’t hesitate to join the fray, just as Satoru doesn’t hesitate to take them down, blood spilling from their bodies as they fall one by one.

You said you would be stronger — that you wouldn’t let this happen again. You weren’t some person who needed to be sheltered away. Your fingers clutched at the pole in your pocket, pulling it out, as you slowly uncollapsed it — you were a yakuza heir, just as much as these two were.

One of them got up to shaky feet, lifting up his knife to stab Satoru from behind, “DIE!” and you slam into his side, hitting over the head with the pole — a grisly crack as the pole nearly snaps against his skull.

“Fuck off and die!” the words leave your lips as you taste your own blood dripping from your nose. And you can feel Satoru turn to see you, eyes wide as he stares — your words burn as much as your head hurts, as you wipe the blood from your nose.

And the men are all down now, as Satoru walks over to you, and his fingers reach gently for your face, as he examines the blood dripping, “it’s just a nosebleed,” you say, and his gaze softens ever so slightly, before darkening, as a groan comes from the man that punched you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” your heart flutters at his gentle touch, the calluses of his fingers against your cheek, as he pulls tissues from his pocket to wipe the blood from your nose.

And his eyes linger on your face for a moment, before he turns to the culprit, fingers clenched tightly around the napkin soaked in your blood.

He drags the man up by the collar, shaking him, a gurgled groan leaving his bloody lips, “You might want to go, sweetheart — I have to make sure I let this one die for ever laying a hand on my woman—“ and you clasp your hand on his shoulder, shaking your head.

“He’s half dead already — you don’t need to finish the job,” and he pouts, shaking the man again for good measure.

“You said he should die—“

You shrug, “People like this aren’t worth the trouble of killing. And you don’t need more problems on your hands — so if you’re doing this for me, don’t bother. Let’s just go,”

And you see his lips slowly curl into a grin, as he pulls you into a hug, arms around you waist, as he runs his fingers through your hair gingerly, “I didn’t realize you cared, sweetheart,” and you frown, “don’t want me getting in more trouble, huh? If it’s for you, I’ll oblige, but you owe me one,” and his fingers slide under your chin.

“Oi, is the party over without me?” A familiar voice calls, Suguru walks over, several other Yakuza in tow, his sleeves rolled up, as he takes a once over of the situation, seemingly uninterested in the scum, his eyes falling on you and Satoru, lingering on the blood that still was trickling from your nose. His eyes narrowed, “which one—”

“It’s already taken care of, Suguru,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, “but for your information,” he kicks the one who had punched you in his side, forcing him to roll over, a slight groan escaping his lips, “that’s the one who hurt her,”

Suguru nodded, stepping over the bodies as if it was nothing more than a spill that had been yet to be cleaned up, as his hand brushes over your chin softly, drawing close, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his fingers decide to travel to your nose, “It’s not broken, just bleeding, but I should still get her checked out at the compound,”

“You?” Satoru furrows his brow, “you’re going to leave me—”

“To clean up your own mess? Yes, I am,” Suguru smiles, “because it’s my turn to keep watch,” as he shows his watch, already well past midnight, “and I should be getting her back to the compound,” the two glare at each other, a tension settling over the scene that you were far too done with.

You sigh, stepping past both of them, walking over the bodies splayed out on the floor, “Let me know when you both decide,” you yawn, hands in your pockets now, “I need sleep,” and Suguru follows behind, and you don’t see him turn to smirk at Satoru.

~~~~

You swore someone was watching you.

A presence loomed over you, hovering slightly, as you shifted in your sleep, a sigh parting your lips as you turned, still caught between in realms of deep sleep as you drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open a moment, and caught sight of a shadow.

No, it was nothing. It was nothing. And then you’d wake to sunlight filtering through your windows, eyes fluttering open, but you would still wake with the lingering touch of someone else against your face.

But each morning you’d check the locks, and it would be locked, with no signs of tampering — and you’d be left wondering if it was a dream or not.

It had been like this for the last week — you’d sense a presence, for a split second of what you thought was consciousness, and then it would be morning again.

And finally, you decided to stay awake, a knife you had pilfered away from the kitchen under your pillow. You let your eyes drift shut, drifting in and out of a half sleep, until you hear it.

The slow slide of the door opening, and the soft close of the door behind. The person takes nearly soundless steps towards you, before leaning above you and you feel the faint brush of hair against your skin, before leaning back with a quiet sigh.

Suguru?

And his fingers slide through your hair softly. He watches over you, quietly, until you turn to face him, eyes open.

“You know it’s really creepy to break into a woman’s room in the middle of the night,” and Suguru blinks, before his lips curl in a small smirk, “and it’s even weirder when you just sit there to watch her sleep,”

“Just trying to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart,”

“In a locked room?” And he shrugs.

“I broke in easily,” and you scoff, as he rakes his own fingers through his hair, “who else would keep an eye on you?”

You sit up, crossing your arms, “Surprised you and Satoru aren’t in here,”

“We take turns,” and you stare at him, as he leans back against the wall, “all we do is keep watch princess — would you have let us in otherwise?”

You open and shut your mouth, before you find words again amidst the haze of frustration, “I’m not so fucking helpless that you both need to sit here and watch me sleep,”

“We have been doing this since the threats began nearly and you only noticed recently,” he points out, his eyes catching the faint light of the moon, as cautious and patient as Suguru was — his expression as indiscernible as a new moon was, “and it’s only because Satoru had gotten sloppy,” he shrugs.

You rub at your temples, “you’re not the only one who is a yakuza—“

Suguru tilts his head, “Princess, you don’t know what it means to be one — not even your fingers have never been bloodied, and it should stay that way—“

Your fingers close around the handle of the knife as you lunge at him — you snapped. You were tired — tired of the men in your life running your life — your grandfather, these yakuza heads, and these two idiots — all of them treating you as if you were spineless.

And you weren’t.

His hand darts out — and it happens quickly. The knife clatters against the hardwood, and he’s pinned you underneath him.

You glare, embarrassment licks at your cheeks like flames — you had placed your fingers on the stovetop and what were you expecting other than to get burned? You can’t meet his gaze, and you’re expecting another lecture or sanctimonious attitude, but instead, his fingers skim your cheek, “You should pick your battles wisely, sweetheart — because not all of them will let you off the hook,” and he leans close, breath warming your lips, as your eyes can’t help but squeeze shut.

Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead.

And his weight leaves you at once, your head turning to find him examining the knife you had stolen, “You should also choose a better weapon than a kitchen knife — especially one as dull as this one,”

You scowl at him, “Well, how else will I defend myself?”

And he smiles, shrugging, “Isn’t it simple? Use the weapons already at your disposal,”

Your brow knots together, “What weapons?” And his hand is sliding the door open, as he casts one more glance over his shoulder, lips curled in that insufferable smile.

“The ones sworn to you.”

~~~~

“You’re staying home tomorrow from class,” the thermometer is plucked from between your lips, the white haired yakuza scrutinizing your room, cerulean eyes catching the pile of tissues you had failed to stuff properly in your trash bin, “how long have you had this, Princess?”

You lay bedridden and pouting as you draw the covers over your face — you had not been feeling well this whole weekend, but you developed a fever last night. You thought it would be gone by the morning, “Just since this morning,” and he’s tugging the covers away, his brow wrinkled, and then you see it, bandages on his forehead, “when did you get hit on the head?”

And he blink, fingers running through his hair, “This? It’s nothing,” and you raise an eyebrow, “if you must know, it’s just my punishment for taking you into the thick of things the other day,”

Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“

He waves you off, “It’s not important — the important thing is that you get better — can’t have my future wife succumbing to the flu, now can I?” And you scoff.

“I’m not your future wife,” you mumble, and you hear a small chuckle from him. And then your muscles begin to grow heavy, eyelids fluttering shut under the weight of exhaustion, and your skin feeling far too cold for your burning insides, “Gojo, I’m not—“

And you slip into darkness.

You can feel the world around you move, the sounds of wind brushing against your skin, and the flicker of lights in your eyes. Your lips part, a desert inside your mouth with no oasis in sight, “where—“

A voice quietly shushes you, fingers raking through your hair gently, lulling you back to sleep. Was it your grandfather? No, he never coddled you like this. Not even he had his yakuza to look after. You were expected to care for yourself —- you couldn’t show weakness.

Not as an heir — even if you were just a kid.

And when you do wake for a moment, it’s with some prodding, a voice whispering for you to open your mouth at the press of a medicine cap to your lips, and your eyes flutter open to catch a glimpse of blue eyes — so you do, swallowing it with water.

You fall into the arms of sleep again, only waking to your head slightly aching, and a distinct void in your stomach. You reach around blindly for your phone, and find that it’s still Sunday, nearly the evening. Your eyes adjust as your gaze spots the last glimmers of the sunset in the window.

How long have you slept? Like four hours? You sighed, slumping back into bed, as you stretched. Your fingers pressed to your forehead, still a slight fever, but it was definitely lower. Maybe you could sleep for a bit longer, and you turn on your side only to find a familiar, not-so familiar sight. Your lips can’t help but curl a little. Again there is someone in your room, but instead as your eyes flutter open you see that Satoru has dozed off.

You hold back a chuckle, as you slowly get up, drawing a little closer. His head was against the wall, slightly tilted, soft breaths leaving his lips, arms crossed. He had a prescription medicine next to him along with a water bottle. Your fingers reach for the medicine, and you glance it over — seeing that it was prescribed earlier today for you.

Your brows knit together, when did you—and then it comes back to you slowly — the lights, the sound of wind and cars — he drove you to a hospital. And his shoulder starts to slip

And then you reach for him, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

That’s when he grabs you — his eyes fly open, as he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close, his hard topaz gaze cuts through you, until it slowly fills with recognition. His fingers digging into your wrist loosen ever so slightly, as he blinks.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” but his fingers don’t leave your wrist, “are you feeling better?”

“I am,” you admit, as his other hand reaches up to brush against your forehead and then neck, sending hest crawling up your skin for a different reason.

“Looks like the medicine worked,” he sighs, leaning back, “guess I can scratch beating up that doctor off my list,” and you furrow your brow, “it was a joke, Princess,”

“Why did you take me?” You asked and he tilted his head, “I mean you could have had me looked at here, so why did you—“

“As much as my father pays for these services, they don’t work weekends, usually — we do have an on-call physician, but,” he shrugs, as his thumb brushed back and forth against your wrist, right where your pulse was, “I didn’t want to wait,”

And your eyes slide to the bandages around his head, “but you couldn’t get that checked out?”

“Worried about me? I’m touched, Princess,” and your fingers reach for the bandages and brush against his locks, “hey, you—“

“It’s coming loose,” you lean over and slide your hands until you find where it’s coming undone and tie it tighter, fingers brushing against his soft locks — noting the undercut you hadn’t noticed before, “there,”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his and your breath catches, your face an inch or two from his. And he looks different in the dark of the room, illuminated by the last vestiges of sun that were quickly fading into the night — softer.

“Why did you take care of me?” And he blinks a moment, taken aback and he tilts his head, “someone else could have—“

“I wanted to,” he cuts you off gently, “why would I let someone else do it when I could? It was the least I could do,” and it was your turn to tilt your head, as he adds in a whisper, “I let you get hurt. I should have sent you home,”

“If you had tried, I would have stayed anyway,” and he chuckles.

“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know what it’s like to tough through things as if you’re invincible — as if nothing can touch you — and it’s only a matter of time until it does,” and your fingers brush against the bandages on his head, as you dare closer, less than a breath away.

“Maybe I should make you take your own advice,” you whisper, and his lips quirk upwards in a smirk.

“I’d love to see you try, Princess,” he adds with a grin, “you know I’d love to submit to you anyti—“

And you swallow the rest of his sentence with your lips, a chaste brush that leaves your entire body burning for more — a spark to kindling that you told yourself you wouldn’t start. But, your lips part his to see his soft gaze meeting your own, before finding your lips again, how could you not?

“I’m going to get you sick,” you manage between kisses, lips meeting and parting, as he chuckles against you, a vibration sending a shiver that definitely wasn’t from your fever.

“You’re worth it, Princess,” but he kisses you one last time, noses brushing, before your stomach rumbles loudly in the relative silence of both of your soft pants. You flush, and he can’t hold back his laugh, as you smack his shoulder.

“Shut up, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, thanks to someone,” and he’s still laughing as you try to smack him again, but he catches you by the wrist.

“Don’t forget, I really like it when you punish me,” his lips press to your wrist, your breath catching for a moment before you hit him again on the chest regardless. And he laughs, leaning on his hand, “oh what will I do with you, sweetheart?”

You scowl at him, rolling your eyes, “You can start by getting me dinner,” you grumble, and he repents, getting to his feet, “Satoru?” And he pauses, eyes flickering back, “thank you,” you manage, biting your lip all the whole, unable to meet his eyes or see the smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Princess.”

~~~~

You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week.

Once a sought after rarity l, but now a foreboding concern. Satoru had been away on business — you didn’t care to know what, but you knew he’d come back only more clingy than ever. You chewed on your lip — especially after the kiss.

Fuck. You kissed Satoru, you buried your face in your hands, what the fuck were you doing? Could you use the excuse that your fever had rendered you momentarily insane? No, Satoru would only crack a joke saying that he’s crazy for you too.

What was your plan? You were only trying to bide your time for a year — not become further entangled

You lay back on your bed, as you scroll through your phone — but Suguru was a different story. You heard from Satoru that he had returned. Yet now there was some random yakuza checking in each hour — and even worse, keeping you confined to the compound.

And a small part of you did worry for them as you tossed your phone aside — those fools may have death wishes but that didn’t mean you wished the same.

You leave your room, sighing as you explore the compound. You had done your fair share of exploring, but you had never wandered into Suguru or Satoru’s quarters. You had been told by each of them where their rooms were, only for you to glare at them for providing you the implication. But now…maybe it was useful.

You walked through the halls — seemed like most people were away at the moment. When Satoru had captured those people who had attacked you both, there was information learned about who was targeting you and of where that girl who was taken could possibly be. But it’s not like you were able to find that information out — unless you went looking yourself.

Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were close to each other’s — but Satoru’s room was locked, as you tugged at the door to no avail. You glared at the handle as if it was the white haired idiot itself, before turning to Suguru’s door.

You pressed your ear to the door, it was silent, not a single noise inside. You pull at the door and it opens. You step inside — the room is neat, a desk in the corner, along with a bed on the opposite side, but not much else. There were a few other things — a dresser with a few containers tucked beside it and a small bookcase against the wall near the desk lined with books on each shelf.

It wasn’t what you expected — though you didn’t know what to expect. You stepped into the room, glancing around, as you approached the desk first. You rifle through the papers, finding nothing relevant — only papers from class and a few scattered notes that had nothing but addresses and initials scribbled.

And then the door opens, you freeze, before you slowly turn to see Suguru, his clothes tattered, blood dripping from his arms and soaked through his white button up. His gaze is dark and heavy, until he finds your eyes, his brow wrinkled.

“What are you doing?” no ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Princess’ — just a question.

“I was looking—“ but you bite your lips, as you watch his shoulders slump, “what happened—“

And he draws closer, as you slowly take steps back, until he’s looming over you, his arm pressed above you, “Princess, you shouldn’t get involved in these things, unless you want to end up like this,” and the smell of death rolls off of him, the heaviness of his gaze could drag you down to the depths of hell — but you didn’t care.

“Sit down,” and he blinks, before you’re pressing him onto the bed, “I’m going to get a first aid kit and some bandages,”

“Sweetheart—“ but you’re already out of the room, returning with a first aid kit and bandages, “where did you—“

“Well after that first time Satoru and I got jumped by those people, I figured it would be good to stock up on things,” you pull out scissors and tape, and you dampen a washcloth you had stored in the kit with a water bottle you had grabbed. “Take off your shirt,” he hesitates, “getting shy?”

Suguru’s lips curl, before he sighs, unbuttoning his shirt, “You know I rather you hurt me than take care of me,” and you scoff, as you busy yourself with preparing the materials to tend to him.

“Well it looks like someone else already did that for you,” and your eyes meet with his bare chest, the red and black ink of his tattoos encroached onto his shoulders, but more than that — bruises bloomed on different parts of his body, scars from old wounds of various ages littered his skin, and dried and fresh scarlet clung to his skin from fresh cuts.

You take the washcloth, slowly starting to run it over his body, the white cloth marred with his blood, he doesn’t flinch even as it cleans his cuts or wounds.

“Why are you doing this?” And your eyes meet his, his amethyst eyes cut through you.

“Because you’re hurt,”

“Just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean you have to help,” you sigh, as you urge him to turn so you can clean his back next, the sight of his tattoo on his back unsurprising now as you continue to clean it.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to either,” he gives a soft chuckle, “what’s your goal here sweetheart?” You urge him to turn again, as you begin to clean the blood from his arms.

“Do I need to have a goal?” And he turns to face you, leaning even closer, as his black locks fall in his eyes.

“Everyone has one — didn’t you have one for coming in here?” And your hesitation is all the answers he needs, “curious about what’s going on with those people after you, huh?”

There wasn’t any use lying now, “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I would be, but I wouldn’t get caught, now would I?” and you scoff, as his lips curl, “we have been tracking the group that we suspect has the heiress, and we have been interrogating the people that you and Satoru secured,” ‘secured’ — more like nearly murdered by the way Satoru acted.

“And where were you?”

He sighed, “Dealing with some loose ends — and some other business that my father had me deal with,” and he adds, “I had to make sure a message got out — so no one would ever attack you like that again,”

And why does your heart squeeze at the thought, “Why are you so willing to tell me?” And your hands begin to clean and wipe his palms. And you set the washcloth down, beginning to bandage some of the larger cuts and wounds, and his fingers intertwined with yours, as you glance up.

“Because you deserve the truth,” he shrugs, “and even if I lie, you’ll figure it out, so why not tell you to begin with?” And he leans even closer, fingers skimming your cheek, “plus I don’t keep secrets from my future wife,”

“I’m not marrying you,” but you don’t pull away, as he’s even closer now.

“Well, you said never before — and I’ve worn you down to a ‘not’ — it’s only a matter of time,” and his words make you want you to pull away, to scoff at his words and leave, but you don’t.

Why can’t you?

“And I thought Satoru was the one full of himself—“ and his lips find yours, his kiss was more insistent, his fingers find your jaw, featherlight before it finds purchase on the back of your neck. You could taste the faint taste of blood, lingering on his lips,

“And you also thought Satoru was a good kisser,” he smirks, as his lips ghost down your jaw, nose brushing against your cheek, as you pause — how did he— “well now you know what a good kisser is actually like,”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—”

“Suguru,” he corrects you, he tilts his head, his thumb cupping your chin, and your lips find the other’s, his forehead pressed to yours. Then his phone rings, and the moment’s broken. He pulls away just as fast, as he turns to answer his phone, “Hello?” he listens, a man’s voice on the other end, “I understand, okay.” and the call ends, as he offers a smile to you, “I have to deal with some business, but I’ll be back later. And then it looks like I’ll be your escort while Satoru is away.”

“What business—” but he’s brushing past you, going to his wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt, buttoning it swiftly, before pulling on another jacket, as he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.

“You know better than to ask me that,”

“But you said you would be honest,” and he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, as he heads out of the room.

“I didn’t say when.”

~~~~

“We have to tell her,” Satoru stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall of the compound. Suguru clicks his lighter again, flicking it on and off — he had quit a few months ago when you had told him that you hated the smell. And he didn’t miss it, but he still carried the lighter — old habits die hard, “the pictures we got — they are getting better at tracking her without us noticing. And these other fires we’re being sent out to deal with — it’s leaving us with less time to protect her,”

“Do you have to?” Suguru asked, flicking his lighter closer, the silver outside glinting in the low light of the moon, “isn’t it safer for her to stay in the dark for now?”

“Staying in the dark doesn’t mean she won’t put herself in danger one way or another without us knowing,” Satoru shrugs, “she said even if I had sent her home that day that those men were after her, she would have came after me,”

Suguru gives a terse chuckle, “I don’t doubt that she would,” he sighs, gaze towards the inky darkness of the sky, dotted with faint stars that he couldn’t see but knew were there — just as these threats were, “if she found out that her grandfather was threatened too? There’s no way she would wait,”

“So what do we do?” Satoru scratched the back of his head, “we could send her back home — she might be safer there than here,”

“Her grandfather told us—“

“I know, but what choice do we have, Suguru?” he sighs, and Suguru can’t help but quirk his lips.

“You know if we do this, we may have to fight her grandfather to stay engaged with her,” And Satoru smiles, shrugging.

“I know, but we can handle it, can’t we?” Satoru leans back, “we’ll just have to fight him on it. Why? Are you afraid?”

Suguru gives a short chuckle, “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?” And he turns his gaze towards the door, “so when should we tell her?”

But they don’t notice that you’re pressed against the door, your fists clenched. And they were right about one thing — you wouldn’t wait.

~~~~

CRACK!

Fuck, your eyes burned as you tried to open them, the sharp pain in the back of your head radiating all over, as your eyelids refused to open. What happened? You tried to hold your head, only to have your wrists strain against something rough — rope? The fibers dig into your wrists as you try to stand, only to find them bound to something else.

“Finally awake?” it was a woman’s voice — and your eyes still can’t quite open — fuck, this wasn’t part of your plan, “take your time, they said they wanted you in pristine condition so I can’t have you falling apart on me later on,” she scoffs, her footsteps receding away, and you could hear the quiet murmurs of other voices — men, by the baritone.

Your eyes burned as you adjusted to opening them, still fighting the urge to flutter them shut under the pain. The dim light swung overhead, a warehouse from the bare floors and even barer walls and ceilings overhead, barely illuminated in the flickering exposed lightbulbs hanging over the middle of the room.

“Where am I?” You choked out, voice wavering in a way that made you want to grit your teeth and chide yourself for the fear that seeped into your words.

The quiet click of heels came closer, “Don’t recognize me? Well I suppose you never did see my face in person,” and you knit your brows together as she stepped closer, leaning in far too near for your comfort, “I should thank you for your efforts in trying to find out what happened to me. It made it far easier to kidnap you,”

Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person.

“The Akawaza heiress,” you stare at her — her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, ends slightly curling at them, “I thought—“

“I was missing? I was,” her lips curled, running her sharp lacquered nails through her black locks, “but it was my choice,” the screech of chair legs scraping against the floor makes you flinch ever so slightly, as she sits in front of you, her legs crossed, “I’m being rude — how is your grandfather?”

“Fuck off,” you spit, and she clicks her tongue.

“And here I thought you had manners, but I suppose the city’s changed you, little princess?” she hums, leaning back, wood of the chair creaking as she did, “or maybe your boyfriends did,” you say nothing, scoffing, as she sighs, “or knowing your grandfather, you probably didn’t have any to begin with,”

Rage fills your veins, lava bursting from them as the venom leaves your lips, “Don’t talk about my grandfather like that—”

“Why shouldn’t I? You never cared for the yakuza before, right? Is your grandfather not included in that equation? Or maybe it was because he kept what he did behind closed doors, and never bothered to tell you the truth,” and you’re not fast enough to stop your brow from furrowing, and she latches onto it, “Oh he didn’t tell you, did he?”

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” you murmur, and she laughs at your remark, her nails clicking against the forearm of the chair — lacquer on wood that began to grate on your nerves, “can you get to the point of all this shit? Why the fuck am I here?”

“Because your grandfather is picking and choosing who he favors — and so I decided to take his heart, and I’ll only give her back if he gives me what I want — ” and then you see the way her lips curl and her jaw is cut, and it occurs to you.

Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker.

“You’re his granddaughter,” and she smirks, her nails falling still.

“Do you see the family resemblance?” she leans against her hand, elbow against the arm of her chair, “it would be nice to meet you — if I didn’t have to possibly kill you,”

“So you want to be the heiress? I never wanted to be one in the first place—”

“Do you think that matters?” she scoffs, “what matters is the choice your grandfather makes — and he’s chosen you — with no regard for the other children he has had,” her gaze falls downward, “do you know what it is like to watch your mother vye for the approval of someone who never truly cared for her in the first place?”

Your gaze falls downward, “I don’t know,” you admit, “but is all this worth this? What do you think he will even do for me?”

“He’ll meet my demands, and each hour he doesn’t, he’ll get another finger of yours,” she pulls a knife out, the blade glinting in the dim light, as she rises to her feet, your body straining back as she draws close to you, running the flat of the blade down your cheek, “should I start with your left hand or right?” she pulls the blade back, and you smile, “what—”

And you lean your head back and smash your head against her own. The crack of your skulls colliding rung in your ears, along with the knife clattering to the ground, as you felt warm droplets ran down your face, and she stumbles back, clutching at her forehead, scarlet staining her face and fingers, “It’s funny you think that I came to you without a plan — how do you think I found you?”

“It wasn’t on her own,” and a hand on her shoulder, before she’s pinned to the floor. Satoru’s eyes slide to you, a smile on his lips, as she’s struggling, trying to look for her men, “looking for your goons? Suguru has taken care of them by now, unless he needs my help,”

“Akari isn’t the only one who likes to hear herself talk,” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair, “Satoru, you haven’t even untied her,” his footsteps echoing as he approaches you, bending down to pick up Akari’s knife.

“A little busy at the moment, Suguru,” Gojo has Akari pinned with one hand, “unless you’d like her to get away,” and Suguru shrugs, as he slips the knife under your restraints and cuts them off, “are you doing alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, just my head’s aching,” and Suguru pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping the blood from your face, your eyes closing and nose wrinkling as he does, “did you call my grandfather?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” Satoru replies as he hauls Akari up and hands her off to his associate to take her.

You get to shaky feet, “Hold on,” you walk over, grabbing Akari by the front of her blouse, silk wrinkling under your grasp, “fuck with me or my family again, and I won’t be so lenient,” you shove her off, and then you add, “but I’ll talk to my grandfather about some sort of possible arrangement for your mother,”

And then you wave the yakuza off and they take her away — assuredly to Kyoto to be dealt with by her grandfather.

“Are you really going to talk to your grandfather about her?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s the least he could do since he caused me to be targeted,” you grumble, rubbing your wrists, as Satoru takes his suit coat off and places it around your shoulders, before a smirk pulls at your lips.

Suguru tilts his head, smiling, “Well, how would he feel if he knew you got kidnapped on purpose?” And you shrug.

“He doesn’t need to know that.”

~~~

“I’m surprised you guys agreed to my plan,” you hiss as Satoru takes a damp cloth to clean the dried blood from your face, while Suguru is knelt, bandaging your ankles — their rough and bruised hands somehow still gentle, “I thought you would never let me wander into danger,”

“Well, we knew we had to do something when we realized you were listening to us, didn’t we, Princess?” Satoru snorted, and you could hear the smile gracing his features — even with your eyes shut — “and this was the best way to ensure you weren’t hurt,”

“Relatively,” Suguru adds, as he finishes bandaging one ankle, “did she do anything else to you?”

And Satoru’s hand pauses as they both wait for your answer, and you shake your head, “No,” and Satoru pulls the washcloth away, your eyes fluttering open to meet two skeptical gazes, “really, I’m fine,” your lips curl after the two of them look away, Satoru turning to grab a bag of ice for your forehead, while Suguru busied himself with bandaging your other ankle, “is this threat the reason my grandfather sent me to Tokyo?”

The timing had lined up — Akari had started the threats not a few months before — after she had reached legal age, the perfect age to contend for the position of successor to her grandfather. And by sending you here, your grandfather thought he was putting you out of immediate danger — but he didn’t know Akari would make her way to Tokyo.

“More or less,” Satoru sighed, as you flinched when he pressed the ice pack to your head, the condensation from the bag already clinging and dripping down your face, “the geezer wanted to find the source of the threats against you—and by sending you here, to your potential fiancés—“

“I would be safe protected twofold by two of the biggest families—“ and you blink, pulling the ice pack away from your face, “the engagements — that’s why they were leaked — it was to protect me,” you mumble, “so that means—“

“You can go home if you want, Princess,” Suguru says, looking up at you, expression as inscrutable as it always was, “the engagements were only pretense,”

“You both knew?” And Satoru sighs, scratching the back of his head, and why does it feel as if his nails are carving out a piece of your heart.

“The old coot swore us to secrecy, we didn’t have—“

“But, everything, the two of you…the engagement—it’s over,” you say slowly, gaze falling downward. You should be happy, relieved, thrilled — you could go home, what you wanted to do from the start. You could get your own apartment or transfer to a different university—and leave this behind, a bad dream washed away by the events of a new day. So why?

Why did it hurt?

“Don’t tell me you’ll actually miss us, sweetheart?” Satoru teased, a force more than anything — bittersweet worded coated in a sugary sarcasm, “because I very well may propose here and now,”

You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it.

“A proposal now? Seems like finishing early isn’t what you just do in bed, Satoru,” Suguru scoffs, as Satoru shoots a glare over his sunglasses, “she’s only eager to get home now isn’t she? "If she isn’t so eager,” he adds, “then she would stop the one she wants from leaving her room, wouldn’t she?”

And Suguru is slowly getting to his feet, while Satoru also turns to leave — and you don’t think—but you were sure that you truly hadn’t thought a single sane thought since you had arrived in Tokyo—

You grab at the fabric of both their shirts, fingers clutching at it, as your lips curled when they glanced back at you.

“Who said either of you could leave?”

~~~

“You’re going to have to use your words,” you murmured, fingers ghosting Satoru’s jaw, a delightful shiver parting his lips as you smiled at him, sat spread at the edge of your bed, “what do you want?” You stepped closer, between his legs, daring even closer.

“Sweetheart, you know what I—“ and a low groan leaves his throat as your fingers slide to the nape of his neck to tug at his snowy locks, “please—“

“I know you love this,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his throat, smiling against his skin, “you said you wanted me to hurt you, so it looks like you’re getting your wish,” your eyes slide to the other, sat in a chair, “I know you like to watch, Suguru, so you must be enjoying yourself,” and you’re further unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt all the same — crisp white button up definitely creased and wrinkled as it fell open, tugged out from his slacks.

Suguru’s fingers flexed against the grain of the wood of the armrests, his muscles taut, his lips a tight line that only matched the fabric of his slacks straining against his erection. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you smirk.

“I didn’t hear an answer, Suguru,” and you’re placing another kiss on Satoru’s neck, a whine leaving his throat, while your eyes find Suguru’s amethyst gaze darkened to nearly black, his knuckles white against the wood, as you lean down to lick a stripe up Satoru’s neck, who bites his bottom lip.

“I’d enjoy it even more if I could touch you, or me,” Suguru adds through gritted teeth, “Princess—“

And you click your tongue, “You had such patience when you were watching me sleep — so where’s that patience now?” Your fingers graze Satoru’s erection through his slacks, and his head is falling back, as Suguru shifts in his seat, not so subtly adjusting himself.

You undo Satoru’s belt, unbuckling it with ease, as his cock slaps against his stomach, and you didn’t know it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but Satoru’s was — a deep flush settled over it, pearly beads of precum dripping from the ruby tip. And a distinct heat begins to throb between your thighs.

“You can touch yourself,” you tell Suguru, his legs twitching to get up, “but you can’t cum until I tell you can,” you run a finger up Satoru’s cock, teasing the weeping tip, a groan leaving the snowy haired man’s lips, “strip, Suguru,”

And he does, you hear the click of his belt, the sound of fabric rustling, as your fingers tease the slit of Satoru’s cock, gathering precum on your fingers, drawing a grunt from his lips. You can hear the distinct sound of Suguru spitting in his palm, his hand beginning to work at his own cock.

“Both s’good for me,” you murmur, as you stroke Satoru’s cock in earnest, the quiet moans from both their mouths sending a ribbon of need to your already dripping cunt, “can’t wait to fuck you both, make you my toys,” and you’re pressing a kiss to Satoru’s tip, his pretty, pink lips parting, as his head rolls back again, “but you’d both like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t let either of you cum, make you beg me all night,” as your tongue traces his lovely vein up the side of his cock, “what do you think, Toru?” And your mouth finally closes around his dick, sucking hard that draws a hiss from his lips, fingers fisted in the sheets.

And Suguru isn’t doing much better, the sounds of his hand squelching and the moans leaving his lips growing louder and louder.

“Please, Princess, I’m close, I can’t—“ and you click your tongue, a pout on your lips, as you pull away your touch, “baby, I—“

“Can’t let either of you cum so fast,” your eyes slide to Suguru, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink that reaches even his ears, as his hand slows, his cock twitching in his fingers, “gotta make you earn it. It’s only right after all the shit you put me through right?”

It’s a cycle, a cycle of you bringing them both to the edge of orgasm, only to tell them to stop. Their sweat slicked brows wrinkled, as you worked them up once again and again and again — you had lost track of how many times.

“Please, please, sweetheart,” and you knew you could get Satoru to beg, but you didn’t think it would be this easy, and you let his dick brush against your throat, as you let him fuck your throat, hips jerking, “fuuuuck, I need to—”

And you’re pulling your lips from his cock with a pop, glancing at Suguru whose black locks are beginning to come loose from their neat bun, more of a mess now than he had been fighting yakuza earlier, and all because of you.

“Suguru? Wanna cum?” you ask, smirking as his gaze raises to meet yours, a desperate look that tells you everything you need to know, “be a good boy and tell me,”

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, as pre drips down his knuckles, “fuck, Princess,” he’s shaking his head, “ I want to cum, please — I need—”

And your lips curl, “cum for me,” you murmur before you’re wrapping your lips around Satoru again, his tip brushing against your throat, sucking hard, his fingers finding purchase in your hair. And he’s cumming hard, his hot release slides down your throat, nails digging into your scalp, nearly never ending — even as you pull away, his cum paints your face and lips, and drips onto your clothes. His cerulean eyes glazed as he looked down at you between his legs, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his cock.

And Suguru was no better. He had cum hard all over his hand and the floor, his cock still somehow half hard, his body slumped back in the chair, as his chest heaved. His hair tie had long fallen away, his long black locks brushing against his shoulders.

You lick your lips clean of Satoru’s cum, wiping the rest away with the back of your hand, “Made such a mess,” you tsk, as you get to your feet, slipping off your shorts and shirt, before leaning down to kiss Satoru, and he’s still sensitive by the way he jolts against your touch, before melting into it, his tongue parted your lips with ease. And fuck, you hoped he couldn’t see how wet you were — nearly dripping down your thighs at this point.

And you’re pulling away, your thumb dragging down his lips, as his teeth try to catch the finger between them, but you’re too quick. You turn, a smile on your lips, you make your way over to Suguru.

You’re wiping up the mess on the floor with your shirt before kneeling, “made such a mess, Sugu,” and he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, his fingers brushing your cheek, “did I say you could touch me?”

“You never said I couldn’t,” he murmurs, and god, his voice is far gone, raw and nearly guttural, as his fingers found purchase in your hair, “and I think I earned it after your little performance—“ and he hisses when you lean in, tip of your tongue teasing his slit and licking the dripping cum off his half hard cock, “fuck—“

“Not yet,” you smiled, as you started to lick his cock clean of his cum, “but maybe if you’re good,” he grunts as you sink is cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length, licking and sucking — and fuck, he was already twitching in your mouth.

And then he’s easing you off his dick with a tug of your hair, and you’re glancing up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but he’s swallowing it with a kiss, as his hands slip down your body to haul you nearly into his lap. Calloused palms find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly, as he pulls away, cupping your chin with his thumb.

“Suguru—” and you yelp as he picks you up with ease, placing you in Satoru’s lap whose hands wind their way around your waist, his fingers already beginning to tease your hardened buds through your bra, a gasp leaving your lips, as Suguru placed his on your neck with a smirk as he murmurs:

“Let me show you how good we can be, sweetheart.”

~~~~

“Tell us what you want, princess,” Satoru murmured in your ear, his warm breath doing nothing to help the needy heat between your thighs, the one that Suguru was knelt between, his large palms spreading you before him, “is she as wet as I think, Suguru?”

And Suguru catches your gaze, a wicked smile on his lips as he replies, “Wetter, she’s a mess, aren’t you?” you bite your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your lips as his fingers graze the growing wet patch on your panties. And your squirming only makes Satoru grunt, his erection pressed against you, the friction doing little to help either of you.

“Fuckers,” and Satoru clicks his tongue, a smile on his lips as he turns your head.

“Think I have a better use for that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, right as Suguru toys with the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, Satoru swallows the small noise that escapes your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as it does.

And god, you already can’t even think straight.

Satoru’s fingers are pushing up your bra, teasing your nipples, as Suguru pressing a kiss to your dripping cunt through your soaked underwear.

“So pretty,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru’s lips part from yours, gaze darkening as he drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, and he tugs your drenched panties down, “and your cunt is even prettier, isn’t it princess?”

And you were — your gorgeous pussy was glossy with your pre, dripping all over his fingers when he parts your messy folds, “Bet she’s even tighter, isn’t she?” Satoru murmurs, as his dick twitches against your ass, “

You whine as his words warm your aching pussy, your eyes flickering downwards, as Suguru’s lips graze your inner thigh, and you already know Satoru’s pouting.

“You’re taking your goddamn time, Suguru, when do I get my chance?” He grumbles, nose brushing against your neck, as you can’t help but chuckle.

“You got your turn, and now it’s time for you to watch,” and your giggle turns to a soft gasp when his lips press a kiss to your clit, “and sweetheart, can’t wait to see how you’ll punish me for this later — because I’m not stopping until you beg me to,”

Your lips part with a reply, but he pulls a moan from your lips instead as his tongue drags up the length of your weeping entrance. God, fuck, how did you taste this good? His tongue flicked against your puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, your slick already drenching his chin and lips.

“So fucking good, baby, s’good f’me,” and your fingers are threading their way into his dark locks, pulling him even closer, his lips closing around your clit to suck, “could live in this pretty cunt,” he grunts, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance.

Your head falls against Satoru’s shoulders, a groan fell from his lips as his cock dragged against your ass, your slick drenching his thighs and cock alike, “can’t wait to sink my cock into you, fuck,” Satoru murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt rang in his ears, and he could imagine how wet and warm you’d be once he sunk into you, inch by inch.

And he couldn’t wait — he needed to do something.

Satoru’s fingers found their way down your body, tweaking your nipple before one large palm dragged slowly down your front, until he found your clit right above Suguru’s face.

“Toru,” you gasp, as his fingers pinch your clit and Suguru glares, pulling his lips away for a moment, only to sink a finger back in insteas, drawing a moan from your lips, “Sugu—fuck—“

And it’s too much, one more touch and you’re cumming, body falling back into Satoru, as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm. Your release runs down their fingers, as Satoru lifts his hand a moment to lick his fingers clean.

God, you’re too pretty for your own good, Satoru’s eyes drag over you — your kiss ruined lips, skin shiny from your sweat, and the way your eyes were lost in an endless pool of lust.

“Suguru was right, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Satoru grin, gently turning your head, and you’re panting, nose wrinkling ever so slightly at his words, and he tuts, “don’t believe me? Well I can fix that,” and his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your moans, as Suguru continued to finger fuck you.

Suguru’s finger stretches you open, fluttering, knuckle deep, as your precum drips down his fingers.

“Remember who’s fucking this cunt, sweetheart,” and Suguru is, another finger parting your needy folds, and between Satoru rubbing your clit and Suguru’s fingers curling to find that one spot, drags against your insides, “fuck, how are we going to fit, Satoru? She’s still so tight,” Suguru grunts.

You pull your lips from Satoru’s, a whine leaving your lips, “More, please, I need—“ and a third finger joins the other two — but it’s not Suguru’s.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking soft,” Satoru groans, pressing soft kisses to your skin, only serving to make you keen at their touch, and your walls flutter around their fingers.

“Fuck, we’re trying to fuck her open and she just keeps getting tighter,” Suguru grunts, while Satoru’s lips find your earlobe, sucking, just as he adds another finger, a moan escaping your lips again.

Suguru’s fingers fuck at a steady pace, fucking deeper and deeper, while Satoru’s are faster, pistoning in and out while dragging against your walls — and it’s not long until they are working you up to a second orgasm, it’s too fucking good — and they both find that spot in you that has you seeing stars.

“I’m g’nna—” and Satoru finds your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. And you cum, even harder, your swollen folds clamping down on their fingers as they continue to fuck you unendingly through your orgasm. Your lips pull away, only to moan their names, again and again, until they finally slow down.

“Good girl,” Suguru murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, while you come down from your high, walls flutter around nothing at the praise, while Satoru nips at your neck right above your racing pulse. And your eyes find Suguru lazily palming his weeping erection, as you lift your bare foot to rub against it, making him hiss, while you rub against Satoru teasingly.

“Don’t forget who’s in control,” you kiss Satoru again, before biting his bottom lip, and he’s melting into your touch, “and, you were good,” your foot rubs against Suguru’s cock again, drawing another pretty groan from his lips, “but now it’s time to be obedient.”

And they are — as you have Satoru sit back against the pillow lined headboard, because if it was anything you knew now — Satoru loved to be controlled, while Suguru liked the illusion of control, even if he didn’t have even a bit of it. So you have Suguru kneeling behind you, as you climb into Satoru’s lap, a small groan leaving his lips as your cunt grazes his hard cock.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Toru?” your fingers run through his hair — and god, his undercut was so fucking hot, as your fingers found his cock, letting the tip tease your soaked folds, as you line yourself up, “tell me what you want,”

“Fuck, princess, y’know what I want,” and a whine leaves his throat when you let his tip sink into you, only to pull out.

“Come on, nothing else to say? You always love running that mouth, don’t you? You wanted this, wanted me to ruin you, didn’t you? Well here we are,” you hum, as you press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, “beg me,”

And his dick twitches, painfully hard, and the words spill from his lips, “Please, please, sweetheart, use me, use my cock as a toy, want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours—” and you’re sinking onto his cock, his length parting your folds, as moans fall from both of your lips. And he bottoms out, your hips meeting his as you do, and you can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch notched inside your walls.

“Toru, fuck, s’good, s’big,” it feels too fucking good, and he’s so long — god, he was brushing against places you never even dreamed of reaching. And your pussy clenched at the thought of how deep he would go when he would start thrusting.

“Sure you have space for me, Princess?” Suguru leans back over to press kisses all over your face, before finding your lips in a heated kiss, “might be too tight of a fit,” his nose brushing against your cheek.

“I’ll make you fit,” you murmur against his lips, your hands against Satoru’s chest, as you shift to cup his chin, “get behind me, Sugu,”

Suguru smirks, slipping behind you, pressing himself against your back, dragging his cock teasingly against you, “So needy — you’re worse than Satoru,” and Satoru makes a noise of protest, but your walls flutter, making his back arch, “want me inside you, sweetheart?” And his tip teases at your entrance, brushing against Satoru’s cock, causing all three of you to moan, “tell me how much you want us to fuck you, how much you want both of us inside you,”

“Fucker, I swear to god,” you turn your head, your glare undercut by the desperation on your face, “just fuck me—

And Suguru sinks into you, your head falling back against him, as both of their cocks stretch your cunt out. You were so fucking full. And the way your walls clenched around them was nearly enough to make them cum. Their groans come in unison.

“Fuck, Princess, you don’t have to break our dicks off — we’ll fuck you again,” Suguru grunts, his rough palms sliding to your hips to squeeze them.

“S’good, sweetheart, so fucking right for us,” and you can’t think straight with the two of them inside of you, and you’re moaning.

“Please, move—“ and they oblige, beginning to fuck you. You moved against Satoru, riding him as best you can, while Suguru fucked you from behind, his balls slapping against your ass.

Suguru drives into you at a steady pace, causing you to rock against Satoru, your hips pressed against his, as they both drive deeper and deeper into your wet cunt.

“S’good, so pretty,” Suguru presses sweet kisses to your neck, while Satoru’s eyes flutter open to meet yours, “I’m close, Satoru—“

“Me too,” Satoru manages, and his hips begin to meet your thrusts, “you gonna cum for us princess?” And he finds your gaze, the fucked out expression enough to nearly make him cum right there.

A whine leaves your lips, as they continue to fuck you, and you know you’re so close. And then they find that spot in you again, and you’re falling apart, lips parted in a moan, both their names on your lips. You clamp down on them, toes curling as you cum, and neither of them can last. Their hips stutter as they give sloppy thrusts, until they both cum,

They groan your name as they spurt their thick cum inside, notching themselves as deep as they could, continuing to fuck their cum inside you with messy thrusts.

A whimper escapes your lips between pants, as your arms and legs shake from your position, utterly fucked out. You three stay like that for a moment, both of their sweet nothings they murmur to you falling on deaf ears.

And then finally they are shifting you onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, as your eyes flutter shut. There’s shifting on the bed, as one of them leaves for a moment, and you make a noise, only to be reassured that he’ll be right back.

Your eyes finally flutter open to find Satoru and Suguru cleaning you up with a wet washcloth, and your gaze finds both of their own. Your lips curl at the sight of them, their gentle gaze enough to make your heart ache.

“Come back,” you whine, and they both chuckle, as they begin to finish drying you off, before tossing the washcloth into the wastebasket, and crawling back beside you. They help you pull a shirt on, before settling in.

“So needy,” Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, even as he buries his face in your chest, his warm breath tickling you as you run your fingers softly through his white locks. And Suguru presses himself to your back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his arm around your waist, and yours resting on top of his.

“What will we do with her?” Suguru mutters, and you can hear the smirk in his tone.

“Shut up,” you mumble, your eyes beginning to feel heavy, as you give into the warmth that enveloped you from their bodies, as it lulled you to sleep. And your lips curled into a smile, a smile that had you wondering right before you slipped into sleep—

When was it that you fell for them?

~~~~

You couldn’t do this. Not to them.

That’s what you had decided come morning — waking up between entangled limbs and soft breaths against your skin — how could you? You felt Satoru shift closer to you, as you leaned into his touch, running your fingers through Suguru’s black locks. You were addicted to their touch only after one night, and now you had to spend the rest of your life without it.

It was the only way.

This whole thing was ridiculous to begin with — you never cared to be involved in the yakuza to begin with. You wanted a normal life — or at least as normal of a life you could have with who your grandfather was. You had never expected to end up wrapped up in all of this — and in both of them.

But you didn’t know if you could choose between them — and you knew, you had to. It wasn’t fair to either of them — not when they had asked you to choose last night and they had indulged you in both of them. And now, you didn’t want to let either of them go.

So you had to let both of them go.

You shifted slowly to sit up, Your fingers traced Satoru’s cheek lightly, as you toyed with a strand of Suguru’s hair. They both still stayed fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the early morning, deep in the embrace of sleep after the events of last night and the last few weeks. You didn’t want to be someone like your grandfather — you didn’t know what you wanted and that was enough of an answer wasn’t it?

The two shift in their sleep, and your body grows heavy, your back still aching from last night, as you lie back down beside them, running your fingers over both of their arms.

Even if you had your answer, you didn’t have to face it for another few hours. And their bodies shifted, Satoru burying his face in the nape of your neck, while you rested against Suguru’s chest. This was enough — enough to last you a lifetime, wasn’t it? Your eyes fluttered shut, sinking slowly back to sleep. You had told your grandfather you’d break their hearts —

—but you didn’t know you would be breaking yours as well.

~~~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Satoru narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, as Suguru stepped aside to show the empty room you had left behind — a bare husk with nothing left behind, not even a note.

It had been a day.

When Satoru had woken up beside you, he could have sworn he was still dreaming, even as he grazed your skin gently with the back of his knuckles, he still couldn’t quite believe it. And when he spotted Suguru pressing kisses to your cheek, he knew it was real.

“How long have you been awake?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, “it’s not fair to have your fun while we were asleep,”

And Suguru rolled his eyes, as he rubbed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek, “I just woke up, and all I did was kiss her, you idiot,”

“Not fair, that means I have to kiss her too,” Satoru murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, and one even to your nose. Your nose wrinkles in your sleep, and Satoru’s lips quirk upwards, “she’s so exhausted from last night still,”

“She is,” Suguru hums, as he tilts his head, “what are we going to do about last night?”

Satoru pauses a moment to consider, “Well, what is there to discuss? She chose us both, didn’t she?” Satoru leaned close to you, to press a kiss to your head.

“She did,” Suguru props himself up with his elbow on his side, “I thought you weren’t one to share,”

And Satoru shrugged — he wasn’t one to share, he wanted what was his to be his alone, but with you — the more people to protect you, the better, “If it’s what makes her happy, I don’t mind,” and he adds, “and I don’t mind if it’s you that I’m sharing with,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, a chuckle on his lips, “Is that so? Well, good,” as he runs a finger through your hair, “because I feel the same.”

But Satoru supposed you didn’t.

“When did she—“

“My father told me she contacted her grandfather this morning, and let them know she was leaving — and her single request was to send us away on business so we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” and Satoru gives a bitter chuckle.

“So that’s it?” Satoru crosses his arms, “why did she—“ and he cuts himself off, “have you tried to call—“

“I’m blocked, I assume you are too,” Suguru shook his head, a silence settling over the two of them that Satoru chose to break.

“Do we go after her?” And Suguru pauses, his brow wrinkling a moment, before he sighs, shaking his head.

“If she comes back, it has to be her choice,” Suguru slid his hands into his pockets, “otherwise, we’re back to square one,” and he adds, “and I don’t think I can go back after last night.”

Suguru steps away, heading back down the hallway, and Satoru follows.

No, Satoru thinks, sparing one glance at the empty room, before pulling the door shut, neither could he.

~~~

“Why did you come back?” You set another box down, wiping the sweat from your brow, your grandfather simply watching as you brought your things back into your room.

“What a warm welcome,” you scoff, as you head back out to pick up another — the other staff had offered to help, but you had waved them off, lifting another box, your back still aching — and now you were starting to regret it. But you knew if you didn’t do something to distract yourself — your phone taunting you on the top of your desk — you’d do something you’d regret.

And you’d already filled your quota for the next six months at least.

“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” the geezer sighed, as he watched you bring the last of the boxes in, “I’m glad you’re back and the matters are all settled — but,” he tilts his head, “you seem more miserable than before,”

“I’m just tired,” you reply, but his furrowed brow says he’s unconvinced, as you grab a box cutter and begin to open up the boxes, beginning to sort through your things, “and still trying to wrap my head around the fact you lied to me,”

And he sighs, “this isn’t about me right now — it’s about you—“

“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath.

“You’re in love, aren’t you?” And you can’t help but freeze for a moment, until you force yourself to continue unpacking, pulling out some of your clothes from the box, “which one is it?”

The question stabs between your ribs like a well thrust sword between the ribs, finding the center of the problem — along with your heart.

“Gramps—”

“So it’s both of them?” and you whirl on him, your eyes narrowing, and he chuckles, holding up his hand, “I didn’t spy — I just took a guess,” he sighed, as he pulled out your desk chair and took a seat in it, “and it looks like I was right,”

You swallow, your eyes falling to the floor, “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what—”

He laughs, “I know you aren’t like me, little one,” he leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap, “you aren’t one to lie — because I know there’s more you hate than liars,” and his gaze grows a little sadder, “And I’m sorry I had to become one of them,”

You grit your teeth, “I’m not mad at you — I’m just—” you choose your words carefully — because you’re angry, you were upset — upset that he felt as if he couldn’t trust you, “wondering why you didn’t tell me the truth,”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “My past isn’t something I’m proud of, and I wanted to deal with it without involving you,” he sighed, “after everything with our family — I didn’t want to give you another reason to distance yourself from me,”

“Lying to me isn’t a better option than that,” he rubs the back of his head, “you have to make it right for Akari and her mother — as well as if you have any other kids—I don’t need to know,” you add, when he opens his mouth, “it isn’t fair to them,” and it would be no fairer to not choose between Satoru and Suguru.

“You’re right,” he raises a brow, “is that the problem? You can’t choose between the two of them, eh?” and your gaze refuses to meet his, “have you talked to them about it?” and your silence serves as an answer, “then I think you should take your own advice and talk to them about it,”

“What will that do?” you murmur, “they still will want me to choose—”

“Do you know that for a fact?” he crosses his arms, “I think you owe it to them and to yourself to talk to them, and to your grandfather who can’t stand to see you this miserable at home,”

“Do you think it will change anything?” and he shrugs.

“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t,” he tilts his head, as he pulls out his phone to call you a car, “but if it’s a chance for you to be happy, isn’t it worth taking?”

~~~~

“I want to marry you both,”

And again, your statement is met with confused stares, as you had all but pulled up to their compound and entered to find them seated together discussing business in a side room — and their stares were still anything but average — but to you now, they meant so much more.

“Not marry you right now, but maybe eventually,” adrenaline was surely pumping through your system, right? That’s probably why your hands were shaking and your mouth was dry, but even so you knew you needed to say it before they spoke, “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I told myself after we first met I wouldn’t be a coward, but I was when I ran away, and I don’t have any excuse,” you swallowed, “but I know what I want — and I want both of you, as selfish as that feels,” guilt crawled up your throat at the statement of that sentence, as if begging you to swallow the words that spilled from your lips back up, “and I don’t know how either of you feel — but if we were to do this, I would want us to be honest and—”

And the screech of their chairs takes you aback, and you felt your cheeks burn, was this it?

But instead of brushing past you, they stand in front of you, one of them tilting your head upwards to meet their gazes.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” Satoru’s lips curled, his hand cupping your cheek, “I know we said we wanted you to hurt us, but not like that,”

“Sent us away just to ghost us,” Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers still under your chin, “I’ll have to plant a tracker on you again,”

You shake your head, “Wait, what? Are you both okay—”

“We did say we’d kill the other for your hand, but,” Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead, “But now we realize the more eyes watching you, the better, and,” he shrugs, “we don’t mind sharing if it’s just with the other,”

“And I know you’ll prefer me sooner or later,” Satoru adds, earning a glare from Suguru, as you only chuckle, “Suguru is always so grumpy—ow!” Suguru smacks on the back of the head, as the black haired yakuza wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his front.

“And you are always too busy running your mouth,” Suguru replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “sure you can handle both of us in your life?” and you pull Satoru close too, letting his lips brush yours, before turning and pressing a kiss to Suguru.

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourselves that?” you say, as the two of them wrap an arm around you, “I am supposed to ruin your lives after all.”

✧ a/n: so this has been a longtime coming. i was supposed to be working on prof geto (5) + my nanami celebration fic but this took over my life and wouldn't let go until i finished. so i hope you guys enjoy!! and this is my reminder why i don't write multi partner scenes like this often because its....difficult. thank you to @gaylatteart for reading and putting up with me <333

✧ taglist: @midmourn, @whore-for-hawks, @ekaterinatepes, @satoryaa, @mandysfanfics, @sodoney, @sukunasfavoritehole, @kazbrkker, @satorugirlie, @itsbokutosjuicyass, @santos4, @levanadragoneel, @talkativetranscendant, @abiiebibie, @simply-a-s1mp, @jolynelovesrain, @deegausserr, @xxemmarldxx, @biancaness, @satoniko, @ackermanbby, @rintoriss, @kentocalls, @marionettte, @bear-likes-mushrooms, @forest-hashira, @catsgomurp, @k1t0u, @rat-loves, @forest-fruits-jam, @wishingforanother, @roseified, @spider-fan72, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @gojolvrr34, @chosobun, @chuuyasboots, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy,

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #gojo satoru smut #stsg x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x you #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto fanfiction #gojo fanfiction

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deathbxnny · 3 months ago

Text

Arcane women accidentally confessing to you. | Sevika, Jinx, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

This is very self-indulgent, so enjoy.<3

Content: pre-season 2 because I want to be happy rn, slight angst if you squint, fluff, accidental confessions, maybe ooc??, cursing, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She was resting at the last drop with you during some downtime in between missions. One hand lingered on your hip whilst her metallic one held onto her cigar, eyes focused on the pocker game she was playing with a couple of Silco's other henchmen. She always kept you close this way, a clear sign of who you belonged to despite never having said a word about it yet. It was a mutual understanding only you could have, and so she didn't think a confession was necessary.

Until today, it seemed.

You were secretly helping her cheat a little and eventually told her the winning move, which earned her a large sum of money. Letting out a smug laugh at everyone's angered and defeated glares, she gave you a lazy grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. This is why I love you." She hummed to you, smoke exhaling from her dark lips, before she froze ever so slightly. Well, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise to either of you, and yet she couldn't help but chuckle at your own stunned face.

Looking at the men around her, she threw some poker chips towards them, clearly asking for another round. She wasn't the type to get flustered or shy anyways, so her moving on like nothing happened was on brand.

The only acknowledgment you got, however, was the hand on your hip tightening.

》JINX

She has a hard time hiding her feelings for you due to her rather energetic and extremely clingy nature. But there is still a clear distance between you two that she's too scared to cross. It was a deep fear of ruining everything she had with you in case her confession went wrong. She'd rather you consider her your best friend for life if it meant for you to stay at her side. She didn't want to lose more people after all. And yet, as fate has it, she eventually lost herself in a good and happy moment with you.

You were tinkering on some projects in her hideout whilst listening to music. Her head was leaning against your shoulder as her eyes traced your focused gaze. Jinx felt so content and at peace in that moment that she couldn't stop the words that spilled out of her mouth. "I love you." It took her a second to realise what happened, and her body was quick to flinch away from you. You kept her in place, however, with a free hand placed against her head. "Hey, it's okay. I love you too. I'm not leaving." You reassured her quickly with a smile, one that made her heart skip a beat.

She may not see herself as deserving of you, but she's glad to have you at her side anyway. Hopefully forever.

》CAITLYN

Caitlyn was good at hiding her emotions from you. In fact, she had refused to tell you in fear of breaking the professionalism you two had and, most importantly, your friendship that she cherished deeply. And so, she was very careful not to reveal a single thing... until her confidence betrayed her and caused her to slip up.

You two were reviewing a new case together, and whilst she wasn't paying attention, she accidentally slid you her diary over. It unfortunately looked too similar to her work notebook, something she only realised the moment you opened it and froze in surprise. She may have scribbled your name all over it. She may have childishly drawn hearts around your name. She may have made it awfully clear that she loved you. And it made her wonder if there was a god out there that hated her deeply.

"... My apologies. Please ignore that-" "-Haha, I'm so relieved that I'm not the only one who did this!" You let out a soft laugh before pulling out your notebook and showing her similar pages to her own, just with her name written all over them. Her face was flushed from how flustered and embarrassed she was, but alas, she too couldn't help and chuckle at how silly this all was. At least you felt the same.

》VI

It's not like she didn't want to confess her feelings to you. She just didn't know how! Her confession should sweep you right off your feet in her mind, and yet nothing she came up with seemed good enough. Vi hoped that her flirting would get the point across, but she lacked the confidence to go any further than compliments. She just didn't want you to think differently of her and therefore kept her distance for the most part regarding the subject. That is if she could keep it in for lobger than she already has. She always felt so strongly about others, after all.

So, during a little hang out session in a bar somewhere in Zaun, she attempted to find the courage to tell you how she felt. Whilst she went off to go and get you a drink first, however, a drunken man showed up at your side and started flirting you in a rather uncomfortable way. You tried making it clear that you weren't interested, but as he went to grab your arm, a hand slammed in between you two onto the bar table. "Hey, I think they told you no, asshole." "Who the hell are you?" The man barked back, yet Vi didn't back down and simply blocked you from his view with her body. "I'm their girlfriend, now fuck off." She hissed, and the man just rolled his eyes before walking off grumbling.

Silence filled the space in between you two until you chuckled softly. "Girlfriend, huh? I like the sound of that." You hummed, secretly trying to ease her embarrassed mind, that quickly recovered at your words with a sly grin. "You do?" You mirrored her smile with a nod. "Very much so. I'm glad we think alike."

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demaparbat-hp · 4 months ago

Note

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace��. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

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rhaeheartzsquirrelz · 2 months ago

Text

Handsy Vika

Sevika x Female Reader.

Your girlfriend loves your chest.

(Head Cannons || Smut + Fluff)

MEN DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT!!!

Cw: Nipple play. Reader doesn’t have a specific chest size, but do they bounce?? idk if thats like.. IDK. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Not Proofread || Note: HAPPY NEW YEARS AAYYY!!! 🥳

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Sevika’s more of the handsy type.

She likes having her grip on things. Whether it’s holding your hand, tapping your ass, wrapping an arm around your waist or even your hips, she likes having you in her grasp— she likes the silent marking of her territory. Letting everyone know you’re hers and only hers.

One thing, however, that gets her attention more than anything else is your chest. She likes how plump your breasts look, how they’re just screaming for her to touch; for her hands.

She doesn’t have a specific type in how big her girlfriend’s boobs should be. But, as they say, the more the merrier.

She enjoys the view of your cleavage. She could stare at it for hours, really. The sight of you in a low cut top makes her hands itch for a poke, a squeeze even.

Even sitting in her lap at The Last Drop she has to hold back the urge to get a brush of a touch. It’s like there’s this invisible force pulling her hand to your chest.

One thing she’ll never admit is that she actually enjoys watching you walk around. She gets lewd thoughts just watching your breasts slightly bounce up and down.

We all know Sevika’s pretty damn protective, but it’s heightened whenever she sees someone’s eyes lingering a millisecond too long on the exposed skin of your chest. She knows you’re pretty, and pretty things attract attention, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. You’re her pretty thing, not some lost diamond waiting to be claimed.

What about when no one else is around? When it’s just the two of you in your shared apartment? When she can do whatever she wants to you?

Watching you walk around with your tight tank top turns her on. More than you’d ever expect.

It’s the way you’re so casually making your way towards the kitchen for a cup of water that gets her heart rate spiling. It’s the way your damn breasts look, all round and soft, that gets her mouth watering.

After trying her best to hold back, your girlfriend will call you over, feigning loneliness and luring you into her lap. And, undoubtedly, you never say no. Not even when her finger runs up and down your stomach, inching closer to your bra. How could you say no to pleasure?

She’ll sweet talk in your ear, whispering dirty little words about your breasts all the while cupping them under your shirt.

“My baby has really soft tits.” Yes, she calls them tits. “You’re harder than before, y’like this?” She’s referring to your hardened nipples. “What if I just?..” and she’ll give you a pinch and a hard pull.

Sometimes what turns her on further is pulling your shirt over your chest, not taking it off but only moving it. Sevika doesn’t understand why she thinks it’s so much more hotter, but all she knows is that she enjoys it.

Kissing your neck with her dark lips while twisting your nipples inbetween her fingers is one way to start it off. She’ll occasionally give them soft squeezes, pushing them together and, as embarrassing as it is for you, poke them and watch them recoil.

All you can do is shiver and moan. The cool metal of her mech hand always makes it harder to focus, especially when she slides it down, under your shorts, and presses it against your clit. It’s a sensation you can’t get enough of, can’t really describe. There’s no real motion, no friction, just a cold touch that makes you squirm.

(No, she won’t stick her mech fingers up your hoo-haa. She’s too scared it’ll scratch you. What if it malfunctions? She’d rather use her flesh fingers.)

Switching spots with her mech hand, she’ll rub against your pulsing clit. She likes feeling your hips shudder in her lap, the way your thighs close and push her fingers harder against you. She has no shame in what it does to her.

Her silver eyes never leave your form. She’ll stare at how her mech fingers are able to dig into your breast, how her flesh hand looks under your shorts, giving them a buldge, how you bite your lip in pure enjoyment, and even how your jaw drops afterwards. Sevika’s in love with your reactions.

Other than using her hands, Sevika likes tasting them aswell. In a comfortable position, she could gobble you up. Nipple in her mouth, she rubs her tongue against the tip. She’ll even, occasionally, give you a gentle bite, a suck and a pull.

She likes keeping eye contact while she does this, because, again, she loves seeing your face as she’s making you feel good. Knowing full well your cunt’s throbbing for more, yelling for contact, she won’t give it to you that quickly.

Alright, now.. what about Sevika when she’s not in the mood for sex? When all she needs is comfort?

After a long day of fixing up after someone’s bullshit, all your girlfriend needs is you.

She’ll come home late and immediately drag herself to the bedroom, laying her eyes on your half-asleep figure. It makes her sleepier.

And you, being the amazing girlfriend you are, always opening your arms for her muscular body to melt into.

She’ll rest her head on your natural cushions, arms lazily draped beside you on the bed as she deeply sighs in relief. Her back pain’s gone (she’s just distracted), her headache lessened, and she’s feeling so, so, so much better.

You’ll press heavenly kisses on her head, fingers playing with her dark hair all the while massaging her scalp. You know full well how to get her relaxed.

Earlier, the mention of your breasts feeling like stress balls— Yeah.. she’ll flip on her side and let her flesh hand give your chest a few, lazy squeezes. Your girlfriend’s too exhausted to care and she’ll continue until she’s snoring in your arms.

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buckyalpine · 7 days ago

Note

I LOVE what you wrote for the other ideas!!

This is kind of a dialogue prompt

Reader says something like, "do you know how many times I've imagined you fucking me on this desk?"

Maybe she's sitting on Bucky's lap while she works on a mission report or something for the team. Since Bucky hasn't seen reader in a bit, he is being needy and handsy trying to distract her. (Cue cockwarming?)

Eventually, reader slams the laptop shut and puts it away before she says that line. Bucky just like

Sweeps EVERYTHING off desk

(I'm so sorry for the long ask) much love❤️❤️

Not me answering this 2 years later but I'm weaaaak for the lip bite and this idea, immediate yes (and by immediate I mean I know I took forever, I'm so sorry, also I love you)

"I missed you so much baby" Bucky purred in your ear, hoisting you up by your hips to wrap your legs around his waist as soon as you stepped off the jet. You'd been gone for over a month in those 4 weeks, Bucky had been nothing but a pouty puppy, waiting for you to come back. None of the missions he went on were enough of a distraction, all he wanted was his perfect angel back in his arms and he finally had you.

"Missed you too, bub" You giggled at his scruffy beard tickling your neck as he nuzzled into your skin, carrying you off for some much needed cuddles. "I already showered and changed but I just have to finish my mission report and then I'm all yours"

You pecked the frown that made its way to his face, your thumb brushing over the crease between his brows.

"But I haven't seen you in so long" Bucky mumbled, reluctantly detouring away from your shared bedroom, taking you to the conference room instead.

"I promise I'll be quick-Bucky what are you-" You squeaked as you felt his cool arm effortlessly wrap around your waist, lifting you up so he could sit in the chair instead, plopping you onto his lap.

"I'll be patient" Bucky gave you an innocent shrug, not willing to wait for you to finish so he could spend time with you. You giggled at his clinginess, opening your laptop and pulling up the file you had to fill out; of course his patience lasts all of 10 seconds before his hands slowly slip under your shirt.

"Bucky, what are you doing"

"Nooothin'" he ignored the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder while he started to needily paw at your hips, slowly making his way up to your waist, caressing your skin. "Just feelin' you"

"I can see that" you shook your head, returning to your report, trying desperately to recall various details while your boyfriends hands continued to wander around. You could barely type out a sentence, squeaking when his cool metal fingers brushed near the top of your breast, tracing along the outline of your bra.

"Bucky"

"Y/n"

"You're distracting me"

"No, You're distracting me" He countered with another shrug, adjusting his hips, the movement causing you to shift right onto his-

"Bucky!"

"What" He gave you an innocent pout as if his thick erection wasn't about to pop out of his jeans.

"Your not so little friend there is about to stab my ass" You snoted, ignoring the way his hard length pressed against you made your stomach flip.

"Help him out then" Bucky smirked with a raise of his brow, "C'mon, it'll help me keep my hands to myself if he gets some attention"

"Bucky-

"Please baby, I promise I'll behave, just let me put it in you, I won't move, no more distractions, scouts honor"

"You're a little shit" You rolled your eyes, biting back a smirk as you got up to pull down your sweats while Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out. He groaned as he swiped his thick cockhead through your folds, your slick already making a mess between your thighs.

"Looks like I wasn't the only distracted on, huh" He whispered against the shell of your head as he pressed inside, the both of you gasping at the feeling of him stretching you. He was careful to lower you slowly, inching his way until you were perfectly seated on his lap and entirely full of him. "Mpph, fuck you feel good baby, keep me nice and warm, that's it" He nipped on your earlobe while you took a moment to recompose, your tight walls fluttering against his shaft.

"I-have to finish this-" Your voice melted off into a moan, how were you going to get anything done, it had been so long since you'd felt your boyfriends fat cock absolutely rail you, making you cum and squirt till you nearly passed out, his length fucking your brains out until he was ready to fill you, his moans and grunts all just for you while his cock exploded with thick streams of cum that would drip out-

"You won't get anything done if you keep grinding on me princess" Bucky's strained, teasing voice broke you from your train of thought, not even realizing you'd been pushing your hips further back on him, trying to feel more. "You sure you gotta finish this right now?"

"Y-yes" You tried to fill out the next section, your eyes rolling back instead when Bucky adjusted himself, pushing himself till his tip kissed your cervix.

"You sure baby, I can make you feel really good"

"I-

"It's been so long angel, I need you, fuck, need you so bad" The neediness of his voice only set you off further, a gush of your arousal pooling out of you, getting the patch of curls at the base of his cock messy. It certainly wasn't missed by Bucky, his hands holding onto your hips so he could gently thrust his hips up just enough for you to feel the slightest movement. "Please baby, m'so hard, balls are fuckin' full, swear my cock's ready to burst there's so much cum for you-

All it took was you shutting your laptop for Bucky to swipe his arm and clear the table of its contents, bending you over the table while he was still deep inside you.

"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled, grabbing you hips and setting a brutal pace without warning, his head thrown back, the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixing with your moans.

"OH-FUCK-J-AMIE" You squealed feeling Bucky angle his hips to hit a spot that made a mess everywhere, your juices dripping onto his jeans, the material turning darker making him fuck you harder.

"That's it baby, make a mess on me, make a mess on my cock, give me what I've been missing so fuckin' bad"

You were nothing more than a babbling mess letting Bucky take what he needed, your legs nearly buckling from pleasure.

"Wanna see you" He pulled out and handled you with ease as he picked you up and placed you onto the table, throwing your pants off and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He didn't waste any time as he slipped in again, the both of you moaning and he started to move again, your tummy bulging each time he fucked into you. "Missed you so much angel, fuck you have no idea"

"Missed you-t-too" You hiccuped from a mixture of emotion and your building orgasm, a mix of everything making your vision blur with white spots and tears. "Missed you so much, Bucky"

"Cum for me angel, I want it, wanna feel my angel cum on my cock, please-" Bucky's pace stuttered as his cock squirted precum, his balls growing heavy, struggling to hold on, "m'gonna cum, can't hold it baby, give it to me"

"I-I-OH FUCK" You let out a silent scream as Bucky slipped his hand between your bodies, his thumb pressed onto your clit rubbing gentle circles. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his own ready to shoot from the base of his cock, the tip already dribbling-

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl, so pretty when you cum for me baby, fuck me I won't last, shit-I-FUCKK" The first burst of cum flooded and painted your walls, his cock throbbing so hard it nearly sent you into a second climax, "Hng, it's so much, mmph"

Bucky clung onto you with his face buried into your neck, shuddering as his body shook from the waves of his orgasm. He held onto you, keeping you wrapped up as he sat back on the chair, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you"

"I love you too but I need to finish" You sleepily mumbled while Bucky shook his head, carrying you off for some much needed proper cuddles.

"You can finish later after we get some dinner in you and two more orgasms and a nice long shower, maybe a massage and THEN you can-"

"You filthy animals" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's list as he stood at the conference door with an amused smirk on his face.

"Oh my god" You kept your face buried in Bucky's neck, the oversized shirt you were wearing covering up what was going on but there was no mistaking what happened with Bucky's jeans around his ankles.

"Couldn't wait 10 minutes, huh"

"Would you?" Bucky didn't even bother arguing back, raising his brow with a smug smile.

"Can't argue with that" Tony nodded with approval, walking off while Bucky cackled without an ounce of shame.

"You little shit" You stayed pressed against his neck, while Bucky carried you off to your shared bedroom, plopping you onto the bed.

"Now about those two orgasms-"

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gravegoer · 3 months ago

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sevika, grayson and ambessa cuddling hcs 🥹🥹 i love them

Cuddling the butches -`✮´-

thank you for the ask, anon. heres some sevika , grayson , and ambessa because the last fic a while ago got a lot of love (rightfully so) <3 !!!

more of them , masterlist

Ambessa loves being the big spoon, pressed up behind you with one of her thick arms under your head, the other grabbing at your torso.

It's calming for you both when you trace over the scars on her arm under your head, leaving small kisses trailing after your fingers. She shows her appreciation by returning the favor and running her hands under your shirt to trail up your stomach.

If you grew ticklish at your touch, she would reluctantly stop, punctuating her actions with a kiss to the shell of your ear.

Sometimes, you would roll over to lay on her chest, her back now against the bed and her arm over your shoulders.

This way, she could see your face and admire your features with a smirk. Loving the way you look up at her with sleepy eyes and a smile gracing your lips.

Her chest was thick and comfortable to lay on, hearing her heavy heartbeat in your ear. This was one of your favorite sounds, and did its job at lulling you to sleep.

These were just your activities before you fell asleep, but once you do thats when the fun begins..

She was unusually hot when she slept (not just temperature wise). Sometimes, you'd have to throw the blankets off you both in the middle of the night just for some freedom.

And the fact that she is as close as possible to you doesn't help either. But on cold nights, you appreciated it, snuggling your face closer into her arms to feel the heat.

Her snores were deep and loud. That woman is always in a deep DEEP sleep. Sometimes, it woke you up, but you didn't mind. It just gave you more time to relish being in her arms.

Sevika is just a big softie, she wont admit it in words, but she loves being little spoon.

You definitely have to stretch your limbs a bit to wrap around her frame, but it's okay. it's for her. Usually, you can wrap your legs around her waist and hold her shoulders. She feels safe.

Sometimes she will turn around and put her face in your chest so that she doesnt have to face the world (just your tits).

She likes to inhale your scent and hear your heartbeat, and it makes it easier for you to stroke her hair and hum to her.

In that position she has her thick arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to the bed. (God knows she only needs one thats why she was nerfed)

She doesn't wear her mechanical arm to bed most of the time in fear of hurting you or crushing you with it.

But sometimes she will be lazy and just throw a pillow around her metal arm so that she can hold you still.

If you had a bad day, she insists you lay in her lap, face in her stomach while she smokes a cigarillo.

To add to that, have you seen her thighs? You fall asleep instantly due to comfort. And shes not complaining.

And if you are really sleepy, she will carry you around the house with one arm whilst doing her daily tasks. (Have you seen her wrangle isha with one arm?)

If she needs to step away for a second, she sits you on the counter, leaving you to huff at her absence before immediately picking you back up again.

Grayson is definitely the type of person to like the weight of someone's body on top of hers.

Just lay on her, legs on both sides of her hips and arms around her neck. She doesn't need a weighted blanket while you're sleeping over.

It's also easy to plant kisses on her neck and jaw, soothing her to sleep.

She also has a bunch of pillows, and you both wake up with them all over the floor (you might also be on the floor)

She is tossing in turning in her sleep every night. She was born this way, and if you do it too then you might be kick boxing eachother in your sleep.

Also, she will let you sit on her back while she lies on her stomach, pressing at her tense muscles and running your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.

When you are having a hard time falling asleep, she will soothe you with her husky/gravelly voice right in your ear. You can feel her hot breath on the side of your face while she whispers sweet nothings to you.

I know she's a dream to wake up to, her hair sprawled out all over the pillow and skin illuminated by the sun rise (NEED THAT).

When you wear her clothes to sleep, beware because you might not be sleeping for the next hour (that probably goes for everyone on this list..)

And her gun is always at her bedside. She is strapped and ready to protect you.

i know i said im on hiatus but shh...im posting drafts... i swear

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magical-reid · 12 days ago

Text

The Bucky Barnes Cake Conspiracy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (implied) Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: When Wanda convinces you and Natasha to do the “Hear Me Out” cake trend, you think it’s just harmless fun. That is, until every single one of your picks is a different version of Bucky Barnes, the entire Tower gets involved, and Bucky himself finds out in the most humiliating way possible—via Wanda’s viral video.

It started as a joke.

A harmless, ridiculous joke.

And then it spiraled into something much, much worse.

“I’m just saying,” Wanda said, shoving her phone in your face as the three of you wandered through the grocery store, “we should do it.”

Natasha glanced at the screen. “Oh, the ‘Hear Me Out’ cake trend? That’s dumb.”

“Exactly!” Wanda grinned. “Which makes it perfect for us.”

You furrowed your brows, watching the TikTok she’d pulled up. The trend was simple: buy a plain cake, decorate it with pictures of celebrities or characters you found attractive, and then justify your crush by sticking ‘Hear Me Out’ in the middle.

It was stupid. But also hilarious.

“I’m in,” you said.

Natasha groaned. “Fine. But I’m not helping if this turns into another Tower-wide disaster.”

Wanda hummed, already making a beeline for the bakery aisle. “Oh, it definitely will.”

Back at the Tower, you sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as Wanda set up her phone. The cake—a plain white-frosted one you’d grabbed from the store—sat in the center of the table, looking all innocent. It had no idea it was about to be used for nonsense.

“Okay,” Wanda said, grinning. “Time to put down our picks.”

Natasha went first. She taped a photo of Keanu Reeves onto a skewer and stuck it into the cake. Classic. No one would question it.

Then Wanda went. Pedro Pascal. Another solid choice.

And then you—

“Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

You hesitated, mid-skewer placement. “…What?”

Wanda started cackling.

Because instead of picking three different people like a normal person, you had, without realizing it, picked three different versions of Bucky Barnes.

One was a picture of him in his tactical gear, scowling like he was about to murder someone (hot). Another was of him in a hoodie and jeans, looking all soft and domestic (also hot). And the third? The one that really sealed your fate?

It was a close-up of his metal arm.

You winced. “Okay. I see how this looks—”

“This looks like a confession,” Wanda said gleefully, already zooming in on your picks.

“Oh my God,” Natasha muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I panicked!” you hissed. “I wasn’t thinking—I just grabbed the first ones that looked good!”

Wanda was shaking with laughter. “Oh, babe. This isn’t panic. This is obsession.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you both.”

The video went up on Wanda’s account that night.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By the next morning, it had one million views.

And the Tower was in absolute chaos.

Clint greeted you at breakfast with a slow, knowing grin. “So,” he said, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “should we start calling you Mrs. Barnes, or—?”

You threw a banana at his head.

Sam nearly fell off the couch laughing when he saw the video. “You put the metal arm?” he wheezed. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

Steve, who had clearly been dragged into this nonsense against his will, just gave you a long, unimpressed look over his coffee. “You could’ve just told him, you know.”

Tony, of course, had the most Tony reaction possible. “This is the most effort I’ve ever seen someone put into a crush. If I had known Bucky was your type, I would’ve set up an HR department just to make this more scandalous.”

You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

But the worst part?

Bucky.

Because by some miracle, he hadn’t seen the video yet.

Which meant you were living on borrowed time.

It happened later that night.

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book but mostly trying to avoid eye contact with the entire human population, when Bucky strolled into the common room.

“Hey, doll.”

Your stomach flipped. “Hey.”

He sat next to you, arms stretched out over the back of the couch, his face unreadable. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought—maybe he doesn’t know.

And then—

“So,” he said, far too casually. “You like my arm that much, huh?”

Your entire body locked up.

Your soul left your body.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—what—who—?”

Bucky chuckled. “I saw the video.”

You shut your eyes. “Kill me.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Nah. ‘Cause then who’s gonna take me on that date you clearly want?”

You choked. “What—”

Bucky turned to face you fully, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “I—That’s—You—”

Bucky leaned in, voice low. “Next time, maybe write my number on the cake instead.”

You exhaled sharply, heart hammering. “Are you—Are you flirting with me?”

His grin widened. “You tell me.”

You stared at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we go on a date, I’m making Wanda pay for it.”

Bucky laughed, eyes warm. “Deal.”

1K notes · View notes

vunblr · 5 months ago

Text

What if...?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Slight Angst.

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

Word Count: About 7.9k.

She knew exactly who he was the first time they bumped into each other when she ran toward the stairs of her apartment building, and he suddenly emerged from them, lost in thought. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and the glint of metal was pretty noticeable when he reached out to grab her elbow to prevent her from falling backward. The touch was brief, since he retired his hand promptly when he was sure she would not fall, and his blue eyes revealing something akin to regret.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered in a low voice as he retracted his hand, tucking it into his jacket.

“Oh, don’t be,” she responded, lifting the corners of her lips just slightly as she waved her hand dismissively. “I should’ve been more careful. The elevator’s out, and I was in such a hurry… ugh. We always tell the kids not to run in hallways and stairs because accidents can happen, and here I am sprinting-" She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling, and gave an embarrassed smile. “Anyway… hi. I’m Y/n, I just moved in yesterday.” She declared, offering her hand.

He reached out in a firm but gentle grip. “James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, and as she straightened her nurse uniform, she bit her lip. Handsome. The cute wrinkles that creased the corners of his striking blue eyes, were the kind that hinted at a man who had both smiled and seen more than his fair share of hardship, and it was hard not to notice. His body was the epitome of perfection. She mentally slapped herself for staring. “Well, Bucky, I’m running late for work, so I need to go, but I’ll see you around. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He nodded, watching as she hurried down the stairs, her uniform swaying slightly with her steps. He just stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment longer than he should have, replaying the soft smile on her lips.

The days after that encounter passed in a blur of awkward run-ins. Each time, she greeted him with the same soft smile and each time, Bucky found himself lost in thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

It started with a polite nod, maybe a fleeting smile. Then came the casual exchanges—small talk about the weather, their days, even the occasional joke about the quirks of their shared building. Before he realized it, those brief moments had become something he looked forward to. It felt so easy to talk to her, and her laughter always seemed to come just when he needed to hear it. Sometimes, he’d catch her gaze lingering on him a second too long before she looked away, and it was enough to make him wonder if maybe, she felt the same pull that he did.

-----

One evening, as they both stood waiting for the elevator, she quirked a brow at him. "You know, Bucky, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were following me." She teased.

He blinked, caught off guard, but the playful glint in her eyes made him relax. He let out a small chuckle. "Well… I could say the same about you." She laughed, and once again, the sound made him feel almost normal.

His therapist had been telling him for months that he was alone, and isolated, and that he needed to socialize, and form connections. She had even suggested dating, but every time he tried, it hadn’t gone well. The interactions felt awkward and forced, and he often found an excuse to leave early, or worse, sometimes he didn’t even bother with an excuse, just walking out of there without a word.

There was something about her that set her apart, mostly the ease with which their conversations flowed. He wasn’t the type to talk much, often keeping things curt and to the point, but she had this way of making the silence between them feel comfortable, never pushing him to share more than he wanted. He didn’t have to try so hard to keep up with standard appearances.

But the attraction wasn’t just about comfort. No, he wanted her.

He caught himself watching her more often than he cared to admit. She was exactly his type—soft, curvy in all the right places. And he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch her, to trace his hands over her body, to feel her warmth beneath his fingertips.

But every time he got close to asking her out, fear crept in, locking the words in his throat. Fear of rejection. Of being too damaged. Of her seeing the parts of him he was ashamed of. And so, he always stopped himself.

Tonight felt different, though. There was something in her playful approach that made the fear feel less suffocating, less overwhelming. The elevator doors opened, and as they stepped inside, Bucky turned to her with his heart hammering in his chest. He could barely believe he was about to do this.

"Can I ask you something?" he murmured.

She glanced at him. "Yeah?"

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment as he stood before her, and almost panicked. This wasn’t something he was used to. He could fight gruesome battles, survive impossible odds, flip a fucking armored truck with a tug of his arm… but asking someone out? That felt like a whole different battlefield. It was terrifying in a way those other things weren’t.

For a moment, he almost backpedaled. His mind scrambled, desperately searching for something else to say, some way to deflect his intentions and change the subject. But nothing came. He was stuck. He’d already opened his mouth, and there was no way to retreat now without looking like a fool.

So taking a deep breath, he jumped.

“Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?” The words came out gruffly. For a second, the doubt crept inside his brain, making him wonder if he’d just made a mistake.

But her eyes widened in surprise before lighting up, and the smile that spread across her face eased the knot on his stomach.

“Oh, I’d love to! It’d be fun to do something outside the building for a change. We run into each other so much, that I actually have thought about asking you to hang out, but you always seemed rushed, like you couldn’t wait to leave... I’m glad that’s not the case.” She leaned in slightly, and her voice dropped to a playful whisper. “You know, we can be neighbors and friends. There’s nothing in the building rules against it.”

Bucky blinked, and his heart sank at the word friends. He forced one of the practiced, uncomfortable smiles his therapist suggested. Friendzoned -a term he’d only recently discovered- wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he hadn’t spelled it out, either. Of course she thought he was just trying to be friendly, he hadn’t given her a fucking hint of his real intentions. He hadn’t flirted, hadn’t made even the slightest move to swoon her.

The old him would’ve had no trouble conveying his interest. He would’ve been smooth and confident, knowing exactly how to charm her and make his intentions clear. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. He hadn’t done this in decades, and the rules seemed to have shifted in ways he didn’t fully understand. Hell, he had shifted. He sighed.

“Um-” he started, hesitant. “Just to be clear…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to hers. “I meant it… as a date. Not just neighbors or friends grabbing a bite.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, still processing his words. And then, something clicked. Heat crept up her neck as her smile turned thoughtful. He wasn’t asking because they lived in the same building or because they ran into each other so often. He wanted to spend time with her because he was interested.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize… I mean…” she stumbled with her words, “I didn’t know you meant it like that." She has had her fair share of men in her life but being honest with herself, in a million years, she wouldn’t have guessed someone like him would be asking her out. Not Bucky, the quiet, handsome, brooding neighbor with the sharp jawline and the weight of a thousand untold stories in his eyes. For months, she had brushed off the little moments between them as neighborly interactions, and nothing more. It had been easier that way. Safer, maybe. But now, standing here, the truth of his intentions was undeniable.

Her smile softened, "Well, I’m glad you clarified." she finally said. "And yeah, Bucky. I’d like that, a lot."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if he’d been holding his breath and had just now allowed himself to exhale. A faint smile crept onto his lips, one that actually reached his eyes, softening the hardened edges he usually carried.

"Great," he murmured. "I’ll, uh, figure something out."

They shared one last look before the elevator doors opened, and as they stepped out, his heart was still racing but this time, it wasn’t from fear.

------

The first date had been simple. He brought her flowers, a small, hesitant gesture that made her eyes light up. They went to a bistro and talked about life, interests, and the kind of things you only share when you feel a certain sense of safety with someone. Bucky never said more than necessary, but she learned to read the way his eyes softened when he listened, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when she said something that caught him off guard. It was as easy and comfortable as their previous interactions, and yet, in the back of his mind, there was always the whisper: do you even deserve this?

The second date was at the small café on the corner of their building. There had been more laughter this time, and the conversation flowed even more easily. As they sat across from each other, their knees brushed under the table. It was subtle, almost unintentional. When it happened again, neither of them moved away.

They walked back in a comfortable silence. When they reached her door, she turned to face him and for a moment the space between them felt heavier, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

His hand hovered just near her lower back, not quite touching, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric of her dress. For a brief second, she thought he might pull her closer to break that last sliver of space between them, but he didn’t. His hand lingered for just a moment longer before falling away.

Bucky’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and his brows furrowed slightly before looking away, almost as if chastising himself. His old-fashioned upbringing, perhaps, held him back and kept him from making the move she half-expected, the one she wanted.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, in a rougher tone than usual. His tired eyes lingered on hers just a little too long, as if he were still debating, still fighting the pull to act on the desire he was clearly feeling.

She nodded, trying to ignore the flutter on her chest and to respect his boundaries, even though her hands itched to reach for him, to pull him closer and start what he wouldn’t. “Goodnight, Bucky,” she replied softly, her own voice betraying the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

They stood there for a heartbeat longer, and the short distance between their doors now felt like miles. He gave her a small, almost hesitant smile, then turned toward his apartment, and the silence between them somehow felt louder now.

By the time the third date approached, Bucky’s nerves were starting to get the better of him. He didn’t want to ruin this. The cocky Sergeant Barnes -the man who hadn’t yet turned into a walking nightmare- would’ve laughed at him. That version of himself had been bold, self-assured, the type of man who could sweep a woman off her feet without a second thought. He’d have taken the lead with ease, knowing exactly how to handle the situation. But that man was long gone, buried beneath the weight of all he had done, all he had become.

Before leaving for the date, he poured himself an imperial pint of asgardian ale. Just enough to give him a buzz, to take the edge off. Standing there, glass in hand, he caught his reflection in the window and sighed. Could she see it, the darkness? The scars left behind from being Hydra’s puppet? And even if she didn’t... how long until she did?

You don’t deserve this, the voice whispered again, unrelenting.

------

That night, after dinner, they found themselves in her living room, two untouched coffee cups growing cold on the table beside them. The dim light softened the space around them, creating an intimate cocoon that made their conversation flow effortlessly. Yet, beneath the easy chatter, Bucky’s doubts lingered. He couldn’t shake the feeling that any move forward could shatter the delicate balance between them.

He’d been raised with a sense of propriety, a rhythm to follow when it came to courting. There was a dance to it, an unspoken set of rules about when to advance and when to hold back. The trouble now was figuring out how much to let himself move forward, how far to let this go before the weight of his past dragged him under again.

As their conversation naturally ebbed into silence, he noticed her gaze flicker to his lips, lingering just a bit longer than usual. His pulse quickened. She was giving him a sign, even if she hadn’t meant to. For a brief moment, he hesitated, but the look in her eyes, and the ale still running through his system urged him forward.

He leaned in slightly, and their knees brushed. The warmth of her body drew him closer. His hand hovered near her arm, and she responded getting closer, parting her lips ever so slightly as if inviting him in without saying a word.

Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between them, as his heart pounded in his chest. The kiss was meant to be soft and chaste, but all restraint flew out the window the second their lips touched.

His hand slipped to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and the kiss grew hungrier, more urgent, as if months of longing were unraveling in that single moment. With a gentle, almost teasing flick of his tongue against her lower lip, he urged her to open her mouth. She complied, parting her lips as she allowed him in, and things turned molten. His tongue slid against hers, and the heat spiraled when she let out a quiet, breathless moan. The sound sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock, pushing him further. His metal hand remained firm on her back, pulling her as close as possible, while the other slipped into her hair. She responded eagerly, gliding her fingers up his chest and tangling in his now messy hair, tugging him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. The kiss was all-consuming, urgent, and messy, as months of tension finally broke free. Eventually, they slowly pulled apart, their heavy breaths mingling in the charged air between them. His gaze dropped to her lips, now swollen and flushed, and he felt the undeniable pull to dive back in.

Then he noticed it.

His vibranium hand had slid down to her waist and was gripping harder than he intended. Much harder. He swallowed and looked at it, realizing what he had done. His hand, still gripping tightly, could have harmed her. He sighed, as the frustration and self-reproach tugged at him, unable to find a balance between his longing and his fear of hurting her.

She caught the sigh, and her eyes followed his downward gaze until they landed on his hand, still gripping her waist. And then it clicked, she understood. It wasn’t just the pressure of his hand; it was everything behind it. The strength he was constantly aware of, the control he had to maintain, the fear of hurting someone he cared about without meaning to. It wasn’t just about this moment, it was about everything he carried with him.

Instead of pulling away, she did the opposite. She shifted slightly, pressing closer into his hand, reassuring him. With that small gesture, she was telling him she trusted him, she wasn’t fragile, and she wasn’t going to break. He didn’t need to hold back with her.

He exhaled softly, and a question escaped his lips, one that had been lingering in his mind for far too long. “Have you ever thought how things would have been if we had met under different circumstances?” he wondered.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Different how?” she asked, leaning in a little, searching his eyes.

Bucky took a breath, and his gaze drifted again as if he were caught somewhere between the past and the present. “I mean… if I hadn’t been…” He trailed off for a second, a shadow crossing his expression. “If I didn’t become what I am. If I’d been just… me.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words out loud might break something fragile between them.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed, her hand resting gently on his arm, a subtle reassurance.

“I think about it sometimes,” he admitted, and his eyes were distant, fixed on a point somewhere beyond her. “If we’d met before all the... before everything.” His lips pressed into a thin line, guilt flickering behind his blue eyes. “Maybe in another time, I could’ve been just a guy. Someone who didn’t have…” He paused, still pressing his vibranium hand against her back. “Someone that wouldn’t have been so messed up. Someone normal and approachable.”

Her heart clenched at the weight of his words. “Bucky-“ she started, but he shook his head slightly as if to wave off her sympathy.

“I don’t know,” he continued. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve…” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

Without hesitation, she entwined their fingers, squeezing gently. “You do deserve this,” she said firmly as she met his gaze. She wasn’t going to let him retreat into the dark place where his self-deprecation lived. “You deserve to be happy, Buck. You’re a good man.” She sighed and shifted beside him, resting her head against the couch as she considered his previous words, and then, an idea popped up.

“Let’s see… if I had been born before 1920, I’d probably still be a nurse.” Her lips curved into a small smile as she looked at him sideways, eyes gleaming in the dim light. She watched his reaction closely, and her heart thumped a little faster as she waited. “I’d have enlisted to work in a field hospital. And… who knows, maybe we could have met when you were serving.” She let the thought linger in the air, light and playful, hoping it would lift the mood.

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, and then he tilted his head, with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He shifted closer to her without even realizing, with his hand still resting lightly on her waist. “You would’ve been responsible for making sure I was fit for duty,” he mused, his tone was a little lighter now as if the idea of an alternate history didn’t seem so bad. “Keeping an eye on me, seeing my injuries, maybe even patching me up yourself.” He added with a playful edge, allowing himself to immerse in the scenario.

She grinned, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she imagined the scene. “Oh, from what I heard about you, I doubt you would have visited the hospital very often, Sarge,” she teased, nudging his knee with hers playfully, a grin tugging at her lips.

Bucky chuckled, as his thumb began tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, a gesture she was growing fond of. “Probably not,” he agreed, leaning in slightly, “But I would’ve noticed you from afar. Even if I had no reason to be there, you would’ve stood out.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as her fingers absentmindedly brushed the back of his hand, and a smile played on her lips as she waited for his answer.

Bucky glanced down at their intertwined hands, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against her softer ones. He looked back up at her. “Because you’re beautiful,” he said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She blinked, caught off guard. “Beautiful, me? Pfft!” She laughed softly, with a playful spark in her eyes. “But... now that I think about it, pin-up girls were a thing when you were serving, weren’t they?”

Bucky leaned back into the couch, pulling her with him, wrapping his arm firmer around her waist, with a slow grin. “Yeah, well, nurses were definitely included in the ‘interesting’ category too,” he teased. His eyes flicked down, tracing the curves of her body as his hand tightened slightly around her waist, making her feel self-conscious. “Especially ones with curves like yours.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head, but before she could say anything, Bucky continued, his voice lower now, with a bit more serious tone. “You’d have been popular among the guys in camp, you know. They’d have been lining up, falling over themselves to get your attention.” He paused, flicking his gaze back to hers. “But trust me, I would’ve noticed you first. And I wouldn’t have let anyone else have a shot.”

Her cheeks heated as she tucked her legs beneath her, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, so you would’ve asked me out?” she teased.

Bucky turned slightly toward her, sliding down slowly the hand resting on her arm, brushing her skin in soft, teasing strokes. “Oh, I wouldn’t have just asked,” he said with a smirk. “I’d have made sure you had no reason to say no.”

She felt her heart quicken at the subtle heat in his voice, the playful edge giving way to something more intense. Her breath hitched slightly, and she bit her lip as she gazed up at him. “Is that so?” she murmured. “And how would you have done that?” She leaned in a little, brushing her shoulder against his, closing the small space between them. “How was the game back then? Brought flowers? Invited me to dance?”

“Both, probably,” he murmured, resting his hand on her thigh, grazing the fabric of her dress with his thumb in slow, deliberate motions. “Flowers, because they’re classic... and dancing, because it’s intimate.”

“Well,” she whispered, leaning her head toward him, lips just inches from his ear, “I guess I would’ve let you court me, Sarge. Tell me about a date with you.”

Bucky’s hand tightened slightly on her thigh, just enough to make her heart race. His stubbled cheek brushed against hers as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Saturday night,” he whispered, barely grazing his lips on the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, “dinner at the Officers’ Club, followed by a slow dance... and then back to my quarters for a proper goodnight kiss.”

Her breath hitched, and her pulse quickened as the warmth of his breath and the weight of his words settled in her brain. She could feel the tension thickening in the air, and then, with almost a trembling voice, she teased, “Only a kiss?”

Bucky smirked against her skin, hovering his lips near her ear. “Maybe more than just a kiss,” he rasped, low and full of promise, “but only if you wanted it too.”

She arched an eyebrow, curving her lips into a teasing smile. “Hmm, I dunno, Sergeant Barnes... things were done more properly back then, right? No sex before marriage, and all that stuff?”

He let out a low chuckle, already inching his hand higher up her thigh. “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, with a teasing edge. “I would've waited until our wedding night…” His hand slid beneath the fabric of her dress, fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have thought about it. Every. Single. Day.” He leaned in again as he whispered. “How you’d look... how you’d feel... imagining all the ways I’d finally get to touch you.” His breath was warm against her skin, and the words, heavy with tension.

“Is that so?” she murmured, sliding her fingers up his chest, gripping his collar just enough to keep him close. “You think you could’ve waited?”

His hand tightened again on her thigh. “I would’ve tried... but I don’t think you would’ve made it easy.” Bucky’s playful tone faded into something more serious, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Would you have let me… let me have you like that?”

She swallowed, gripping his shirt tighter as she looked up into his eyes, feeling the pull toward him in a way that left her defenseless. “I-” her voice faltered, but she managed to find her words. “Yeah, Bucky... I would’ve.”

Bucky’s vibranium hand, firm but tender, climbed from her waist tracing a slow, deliberate path up her spine. He then reached upfront for the little buttons at the neckline of her dress, being careful and bold as he unfastened them, one by one. Each undone button revealed more of her skin to his darkened gaze, and the way he looked at her made her feel exposed in a way that went beyond the physical. “I would’ve taken care of you,” he murmured, brushing his lips on her collarbone. “Made sure no one else got close to you.”

Her body leaned instinctively toward him, craving the closeness as her free hand ran up his arm, tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. “No one else would’ve mattered,” she whispered.

With a swift, deliberate motion, the hand on her neckline slid down and snaked behind her, grasping her ass and pulling her fully into his lap. She gasped as her hips pressed against his, feeling exactly how much he wanted her. “Every night,” he growled with need, “I would’ve made sure you were mine.” His eyes were ablaze with raw desire as he tightened his grip holding her firmly against his groin.

Her pulse raced, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them, and his mouth crashed into hers in a searing kiss. His other hand slid higher up her thigh, teasing the edge of her panties, brushing the soft skin. A soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the kiss, and when he broke it, his lips found the curve of her neck.

“So only one kiss, huh?” she chuckled in a breathed tone, and her voice trembled with anticipation as her hips instinctively rocked against his.

Bucky inhaled deeply against her skin, trailing hot kisses toward her breasts. “Well, I would've kissed you every chance I got but believe me, that wouldn’t have been enough...” His words were thick with promise, and his breath was hot against her skin. He pressed his erection harder against her, slipping his hand between them, tracing her slick heat over her underwear with his fingers. The breathless gasp that escaped her was all the encouragement he needed. “… that wouldn’t have been fucking enough.” he whispered against her skin, his voice low and filled with hunger, as his fingers moved with purpose, leaving no doubt about what he wanted.

She bit her lip, and her voice was soft but laced with playful intent as she fed into the fantasy they were weaving. “Well, if we had ourselves a little house with a white fence, I’d have waited for you to come home every day in a frilly apron,” she locked her eyes onto his, and a teasing smile tugged at her lips as she added, “with nothing underneath.”

The image she painted made Bucky’s breath hitch, and his grip tightened around her ass. His eyes nearly rolled back, his imagination spiraling into wild possibilities. “Damn.” His voice was laced with lust. “If I could’ve had you waiting for me like that,” he murmured, gripping her tighter, fingers digging into her skin as his restraint began to falter “I’d have come home early every damn day just to take advantage of you.” His lips brushed the swell of her breasts, and the heat between them spiraled as his imagination ran wild, pulling her impossibly closer while teasing over her soaked panties.

Her gaze flicked from his lips back to his darkened eyes. “Oh yeah?” she challenged, in a sultry whisper. “Right there on the kitchen table?”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, and the raw desire in his eyes nearly swallowed her whole. “Hell yes, right there on the kitchen table,” he growled, his vibranium hand gripping her ass harder, possessively. “I’d bend you over it, flip up that little apron, and bury myself inside you until you screamed my name for the whole damn neighborhood to hear.” He confessed without a hint of shame or remorse.

Her body reacted instantly, pressing her hips hard against the teasing hand hovering over her clothed pussy. A soft, almost desperate whimper escaped her lips. His hand answered her need by slipping her panties aside, slowly sinking his fingers into her pussy, stretching her with deliberate, agonizing precision.

She let out a shaky breath, and her playful tone faltered as her body betrayed her. “How kinky,” she managed to tease, biting her lip as she met his gaze.

Bucky inhaled sharply, savoring the way she responded to him, moving his hand with more purpose now. “Kinky enough to have you blushing for days,” he growled, grazing his teeth up to her jawline before dragging his lips slowly up to brush against hers. His fingers kept sliding deeper inside her with slow, deliberate strokes. “And when the milkman came the next morning…” The hand on her ass squeezed the supple skin harder, pulling her even close against him, while the other continued its relentless torment between her legs. “...you’d be so sore from the night before, you wouldn’t even be able to stand straight. Couldn’t look anyone in the eye without blushing, remembering just how loud you screamed.”

She moaned at his statement, totally immersed in the fantasy. “Fuck, that sounds… so good, Buck.” She managed to say, as her voice trembled with want. She bit her lip again, locking eyes with him and starting to ground herself shamelessly against his fingers, as the pressure built quickly inside her. “But... would you only fuck me at the kitchen table when coming back? What about… other creative places? Like the back porch, under the shade of the bindweed?”

Bucky's eyes closed as her suggestion sparked a flood of heated thoughts. “Absolutely," he growled. He pushed his fingers knuckle-deep inside her, while his thumb circled her swollen clit, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. “I’d lift that sexy little apron right up, spread your legs wide open, and fuck you right there under the bindweeds," he murmured, brushing her ear, each word laced with dark promise. "And you'd moan my name, scream it, while everyone else thinks we’re just having a quiet afternoon tea."

The combination of his filthy words and the relentless pressure of his fingers sent her body trembling with anticipation, and her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. "Bucky…" she moaned softly, tightening her grip on him, desperate for everything he was giving her. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against his hand, and her breath hitched as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot that sent waves of pleasure radiating through her body. The pleasure kept building inside her, tightening, and coiling until every nerve in her body felt alive.

He felt the signals and growled, moving faster now, each stroke deliberate and calculated as his forehead pressed against hers. “I’d made sure no one could ever touch you the way I did,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you, mine." He punctuated the last words with hard, rhythmic rubs at one side of her clit and that was all she needed for the climax to hit her, a wave of intense pleasure crashing through her entire body. Her moans turned into soft cries as she buried her face on his neck, trembling violently as his hand continued to work her through it, prolonging her ecstasy.

When her body came down from her high, Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers. Panting, she looked at him and saw the raw, unbridled desire burning in his blue eyes. Without hesitation, she leaned in, finding his stubbled jaw with her lips, trailing soft, hungry kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking against his skin while her hand wandered lower and lower on his abdomen, finally unbuttoning his pants with deliberate slowness, venturing inside his underwear.

The moment her fingers brushed against his cock, he tensed and groaned. “W-wait,” he rasped, thick with need and restraint. His hand held hers firmly, keeping her from going further.

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, her lips still hovering near his neck. “Why?” she murmured, “I want to make you feel good too. You deserve it, Bucky,” she whispered, her words full of tenderness and desire.

Bucky let out a low, shaky breath with a hint of frustration. He knew he had to come clean. “I want it too, trust me,” he muttered, strained. “But it’s been so long... too long. If you touch me now…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “Let me lead,” he whispered. He leaned in to kiss her, deep and slow, pouring all his pent-up desire into the kiss.

She sighed softly, pulling back just enough to reach for the hem of her dress, slipping it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric lifted away from her body, leaving her sitting in only her bra and panties as the dress was tossed to the side of the couch.

Bucky’s gaze darkened as he took her in, and his hands instinctively roamed over her bare skin. But then he groaned again softly, almost painfully, pausing as his grip tightened around her waist. “What happened to let me lead?” he rasped with restraint.

She parted her lips to respond with a half-hearted apology, but before she could, his hands were already sliding down her body, reclaiming control. His fingers traced her bra straps, slipping them off her shoulders with excruciating slowness. “I need to do it my way,” he murmured in a low growl as he leaned in, brushing her ear with his lips. “If you don’t behave... this ends before we even begin.”

The meaning of his earlier words hit her then. He wasn’t just leading to take his time with her; he was fighting to keep from losing control, from coming right there in his pants. Her teasing grin faltered, replaced with a softer expression. “Oh,” she whispered with understanding. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…” Her fingers gently grazed his cheek. “I didn’t mean to push you.” And then he saw the guilt on her face.

Bucky tensed slightly, inwardly cursing himself for letting his vulnerability slip. His masculine pride stung. Great job. Way to cool the mood. He forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers in an attempt to brush off the tension. “It’s alright,” he muttered, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. His fingers dug into her hips just a little, “I just... got worked up faster than I expected.” He exhaled shakily, trying to ease the tension. Then he started to move.

As his fingers worked at the clasp of her bra, slow and deliberate, he broke the silence with a low murmur thick with desire. “You know… I liked you from the moment we bumped into each other on the stairs,” he confessed, meeting her gaze. “I still remember the way you looked at me, even after I knocked you off balance and grabbed your arm. No gloves, metal hand out in the open… but you didn’t flinch.”

When her bra fell away, his gaze dropped to her exposed breasts, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His flesh hand cupped her gently, brushing his thumb over her nipple in a slow, teasing motion.

“I loved how your uniform looked on you then,” he continued, as his tone grew huskier and his vibranium hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer. “I still do. Every time I see you in it, it makes it hard to focus on anything else.”

His thumb continued its slow teasing, but then his expression shifted, and a flicker of doubt crossed his face. His voice dropped, and a hint of regret slipped into his words. “I wish I’d asked you out sooner. The old me… he would've handled this better. Would’ve known exactly how to-”

“Stop,” She cut him off before he could finish, threading her fingers through his hair as she pulled him closer. “The moment of ‘what if’ has already passed. I don't want the man you used to be, Bucky.” Her lips brushed against his jaw, “I want you. Not someone I never knew.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them fixing his gaze on hers. She wasn’t looking for the version of him with the effortless charm and swagger. She never did. She wanted him, baggage, scars, and everything else.

A slow, shaky breath escaped his lips, “You don’t know how much that means,” he muttered, brushing his lips against her jaw, then down to her neck. His movements were soft at first, but as her nails scrapped softly at his scalp, urging him on, the hesitation melted away.

His mouth found hers again, kissing her hard, moving his hands with more confidence again. “I’ve wanted this... you,” he rasped, his breath hot against her skin. “For so damn long.” She responded with a moan, arching into him as he took full control.

He groaned, unable to hold back any longer. He gently shifted her off his lap, laying her down on the couch, leaving his hands on her hips for a moment before he stood. His breathing was heavy, and though his chest tightened with familiar insecurities, especially about his arm, he pushed forward.

His fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. As the fabric fell to the floor, his eyes darted to her face, half-expecting some flicker of hesitation or doubt. Instead, her gaze roamed over him, dark with desire as her eyes took in the hard lines of his chest. “Damn... you’re perfect.” Her voice came out breathy and soft. Swallowing hard, Bucky quickly slid his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, kicking them aside. Now fully bare before her, he stood there, chest rising and falling as her gaze lingered on him. He could see her eyes focused on his size for a brief moment, her lips parting as she let out a soft, breathless sound. The way she looked at him -no hesitation, only hunger- made his insecurities, the doubts about his scars, his arm, everything, to retract to a far corner of his mind.

Without a word, he climbed on top of her, positioning himself between her legs. His hands trailed down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he pulled her closer. Slowly, he guided his cock to her slick pussy, teasing her as he coated his shaft with her wetness. A low, rumbling groan escaped his lips as he playfully rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit.

She reacted instantly, writhing beneath him. “Bucky…” she moaned softly, tilting up her hips toward him, aching for more.

He moved slowly, sliding inside her inch by inch, pausing as soon as he was fully sheathed, giving her a moment to adjust. Her body clenched tightly around him, and a gasp escaped her lips as her nails dug into his shoulders as he waited. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, the feeling of his cock filling her was completely overwhelming.

He pulled back slightly, then pushed forward again, slowly and deliberately, testing her response. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut as she struggled to find her breath, her thighs trembling around his hips with each thrust.

“Fuck, Bucky,” she managed to whisper breathlessly, her voice barely audible but heavy with surprise and awe. “You’re big. I’ve never- oh, God!”

Her words sparked something deep within him, the mixture of pleasure-pain igniting a fire he could barely contain. A low growl rumbled in his throat as his control began to slip. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, gripping them firmly just beneath her knees, then in one swift motion, he lifted her legs, spreading her wider as he started to thrust deeper, hitting spots that made her eyes fly open, a strangled moan escaping her lips. “Bucky… oh my God,” she gasped again, her voice trembling as she struggled to take all of him.

Encouraged by her reaction, he picked up the pace, thrusts growing harder and faster, losing himself in the haze of lust that overtook him. He pulled her thighs higher, spreading her wider, driving into her with relentless force. Each thrust was deeper and rougher, and her moans quickly turned into desperate, breathless cries of pleasure.

The sound of her moans, the way she cried out his name, only fueled him further. “You like that?” he growled, in a low and ragged voice as he thrust into her again, deeper, harder. Her slick heat gripped him tighter and pulled him deeper with every movement, making his pulse race. “Look at me, Doll. You like it rough?”

Her body arched beneath him, her hands scrambling for something to hold onto as the force of his thrusts tore through her body. “Yes! Bucky… fuck! Don’t stop,” she moaned, her voice breaking as he kept his relentless, punishing pace.

“Oh, I won’t stop,” he growled, pulling out of her with a slick sound, only to flip her over onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips roughly, pulling her ass up and positioning her on all fours before she had time to catch her breath.

Before she could process the shift, Bucky slammed back into her, filling her completely. She gasped, and her fingers clutched at the couch cushions as he drove into her from behind, with an unrelenting pace. “Is this what you wanted, hm?” he rasped, his flesh hand sliding up her back before grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back slightly as he rammed against her, thrusting deep and hard.

She let out a scream of pleasure as he pounded into her. “Yes! Oh God, yes,” she cried, her body helpless under his rough control.

Bucky grunted with each powerful thrust, tightening his grip on her hair, digging his metal fingers into her hip, guiding her back onto him. The angle allowed him to go even deeper, kissing her cervix with every heavy push of his hips. Her broken moans only spurred him on, so he kept the rhythm of their bodies frantic and primal, skin slapping against skin in a lewd symphony.

He released her hair and grabbed both her hips, yanking her back onto his cock with force, losing himself in the haze of lust. “Come for me,” he growled, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp smack, making her gasp.

Before she could recover, his fingers slid between her legs, finding her clit. He circled it with firm, deliberate pressure as he leaned over her, thrusting still deeper. “I want you to fucking come all over me, Doll.” The moment his fingers touched her, her body responded, hips bucking involuntarily as her breath hitched. The pressure building inside her hit its peak, and with a loud, desperate moan, she shattered beneath him, trembling violently as she came.

The tight, pulsing grip of her body sent Bucky over the edge. “Fuck,” he ground out, as his muscles locked when the pleasure slammed into him, sharp and all-consuming. He buried himself deep with a final, shuddering thrust, thick warmth spilling inside her as his body tensed and jerked, caught in the force of his orgasm. A ragged gasp left his lips as he pressed his forehead to her back, riding out the aftershocks while the last tremors of pleasure rippled through their bodies.

The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, their bodies still trembling, slick with sweat as they tried to come down from the high. Bucky stayed inside her a moment longer, moving his fingers in slow, lazy circles over her clit, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure as her body pulsed beneath him.

But as the haze of bliss began to fade, his mind caught up with his body, and a flicker of doubt creeping in. Had he been… too much?

Slowly, he withdrew, and the sudden cool air contrasted with the heat their bodies have shared. His hand slid up to her shoulder, gently, almost hesitant. “Are you okay?” His voice was low, uncertain.

She turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek into the cushion as her hooded eyes found his. “Better than okay,” she murmured. “That was... perfect, Buck.”

He exhaled, feeling the tension in his body ease a little, but as always, his mind refused to quiet. What if she was trying to play it cool after being on the receiving end of nearly eighty years of pent-up frustration?

Sensing his unease, she shifted, sitting up on the couch. Her hands cradled his face, gently brushing her thumbs against his skin. He looked almost miserable for someone who had, minutes ago, been nothing short of a god of intercourse.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky,” she said. “I meant it when I said it was perfect. Stop overthinking. It was the best I’ve ever had.” Her cheeks heated as she realized the weight of her words, but she didn’t back down. “I mean it,” she added, as her gaze dropped for a moment.

The tension in his body slowly began to melt away as he absorbed her words. His breathing steadied, and the storm of doubts in his mind started to quiet. He looked down, feeling a pang of guilt for letting his insecurities creep in precisely in that moment. Running a hand through his messy hair, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to ruin… I just- I get in my head sometimes.”

She gave him a gentle smile, brushing her fingers on his scruffy cheek again. “You didn’t ruin anything, Bucky, not even close. If anything, the only thing you’ll have to atone for is setting the bar pretty high.” she winked.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile and he exhaled deeply, feeling how the weight on his chest finally lifted. Without saying anything else, he reached up, gently cupping her cheek, brushing softly over her skin in a silent gesture of gratitude.

They stayed like that for a while, comforted on each other’s caresses. The silence between them wasn’t empty; it was full of understanding, unspoken promises, and the certainty that, somehow, they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

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