#he was the one that shouldered all the responsibility from such a young age

[grapegalaxy]

To Love, To Die, To Be One in Eternity

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x MALE! Targaryen reader summary: In the midst of war and shifting alliances, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Prince M/N Targaryen share a bond stronger than blood, a love strengthened by promises of a shared future. But when duty calls them to separate missions to secure their mother's claim to the throne, tragedy looms. A deadly encounter leaves one prince lost to the skies, and the other shattered beyond repair. As a grieving mother vows vengeance and a kingdom inches closer to civil war, the two princes find each other again in the afterlife, beyond the reach of bloodshed, their souls finally at peace among the stars. FEMALE READERS AND UNTITLED BLOGS WITH NO 'HE/HIM/HIS' WILL BE BLOCKED!

It is dusk on Dragonstone and the air hums with tension. The sky tinged a deep red, seems to reflect the foreboding emotions of those who walk its weathered paths. Clouds swirl like a storm above the island, the whispers of the sea murmuring against the rocks as waves break against the shore. Shadows stretch long over the castle walls as if trying to capture the fleeting peace. In the coming days, these shores and halls may know only war, but for now, the sons of Rhaenyra prepare for their missions in silence and anticipation.

Jacaerys Velaryon stands on the bridge, his dark hair whipping about in the evening breeze, his expression one of determined resolve. At seventeen, he carries himself with the confidence of a leader, the heir to the Iron Throne, though the path to that throne now appears littered with blood and betrayal. His eyes reflect the depth of responsibility too weighty for one so young, but he bears it willingly. Beside him stands his half-brother, M/N, a young man of equal age, with sharp features softened only by the affection he holds for Jace. M/N is the firstborn son of Rhaenyra and Daemon, a proud scion of both Targaryen blood. Though they share different fathers, the two brothers share a bond forged in the fires of youth and tempered by shared secrets, lingering glances, and unspoken promises.

Rhaenyra, queen of the Blacks, waits near the edge of the bridge Luke at her side, her face shadowed with worry. Her sons are her life, her blood, and the key to her strength in the coming war. But to send them off into the unknown, to trust them with missions that may steal them away from her forever… it feels as if her heart is being wrenched from her chest. And yet, a queen must remain strong. M/N steps away from Jace’s side to walk over to his father. “Father,” M/N greets him. Daemon’s face softens as he takes in his son’s form. In M/N, he sees his own reflection, the same fierce Targaryen spirit, the same unyielding will. Daemon’s hand rises to clasp his son’s shoulder. “Remember, my boy,” he says, his voice a low murmur, thick with unspoken emotion. “Baratheons are stubborn as stone. Meet Borros with strength. Show him no fear. You’re a dragon, after all.”

M/N smirks, the hint of a rebellious smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll make him see, Father. I’ll make him understand what it means to cross us.” But there is a flicker of vulnerability in M/N’s eyes, as if he senses the weight of Daemon’s concern, though he would never voice it aloud.

Daemon’s grip tightens slightly as he studies his son, his voice growing softer. “Be careful, M/N,” he says, almost a whisper. The sea is wild, and dragons may fly, but even dragons can fall.”

M/N wraps his arms around his father, the rare embrace surprising both of them. For a heartbeat, Daemon’s mask slips, and he holds his son tightly, unaware that this will be their last touch, their last shared heartbeat. M/N releases his father, feeling the warmth of that bond lingering long after. He doesn’t realize this simple moment will soon be all that he has left of his father.

Meanwhile, on another stretch of the bridge, Rhaenyra stands in front of Jace and Luke, her long hair flowing in the wind, fierce and proud. She looks at her sons, her face a mixture of sorrow and pride. She had dreamed of a different path for them, one free from the shackles of duty and the threat of bloodshed, but fate has pulled them here, and she will not allow weakness or fear to taint their legacy.

“Winterfell,” she murmurs to Jace, her voice a soft command and blessing. “The Starks will respect loyalty. Show them our strength, Jace, but remember that they value truth and honor above all. Speak to Lord Cregan as an ally, as an equal.” She reaches out, touching his cheek with a rare tenderness that pierces Jace’s heart.

He has seen her fierce, and resolute as a queen, but in this moment, she is simply his mother, and the weight of her love is as heavy as the crown.

She looks at Luke, her secondborn son, her gaze softening as if she sees the boy he once was, the boy she desperately wants to protect. “The Eyrie has long been our ally. Lady Jeyne Arryn is our kin. Show her the honor of our house, and she will not forsake us in this time of need.”

Luke nods, trying to hide the fear that flickers in his eyes. He has heard tales of the Eyrie’s daunting heights, of its dangerous mountain passes but he steels himself for his duty.

After Rhaenyra speaks to them, Jace walks over to M/N, who’s standing nearby. Jace moves closer, his expression softening as he searches M/N’s face.

“M/N,” he murmurs, his voice laced with something raw, a need that only the two of them understand. He reaches for M/N’s hand, gripping it tightly as the bridge falls silent around them. For a moment, they are alone in this vast world, two young men holding onto each other as if by this touch alone, they can defy the fate that looms.

“Wait for me,” Jace whispers, his lips so close to M/N’s that they can feel each other’s breath. “When I return from Winterfell… wait for me.”

M/N’s eyes glisten with something unsaid, something that binds him to Jace in a way that no one else could ever understand. He nods, his voice trembling as he breathes out his promise. “I’ll wait, Jace. I swear it.”

Their lips meet in a kiss, slow and deep, the world falling away as they pour all their unspoken fears and hopes into the touch. They hold each other, a heartbeat of eternity stretching between them, before they part, their foreheads resting against each other, unwilling to break the connection. But duty calls, and they know that they must answer.

With a heavy heart, Rhaenyra watches them prepare for flight, her sons mounted on their dragons—Vermax, Xerxes, and Arrax, with Rhaenys upon Meleys. The dragons roar, their voices filling the sunset, wings spreading wide as they prepare to take flight. Daemon stands by Rhaenyra’s side as they watch their sons lift into the sky, their silhouettes framed by the last light of the setting sun.

~ ~ ~ ~

Late into the evening, a messenger arrives with the news that turns blood cold. Prince M/N has been killed. His dragon, Xerxes, has been bitten into pieces and M/N was devoured by Vhagar. The news spreads through Dragonstone like wildfire, tearing through every heart that hears it, each soul breaking under the weight of the message. M/N, the beloved firstborn son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, eldest brother of Aegon III and Viserys II, the fierce prince who held loyalty and love in equal measure, is gone. The whispers grow louder as the truth settles into aching bones: Aemond Targaryen chased him, relentless and unyielding, and Xerxes, M/N’s noble dragon, was no match for the monstrous Vhagar. What remained was nothing but smoke and silence.

Daemon, who has faced countless battles, and has known loss and grief, feels the ground fall away beneath him as he hears of his son’s death. He stands motionless, his hand gripping the hilt of Dark Sister with a strength that could break the stone. His heart pounds with an agonizing mix of sorrow and fury, his mind racing back to that last embrace, the warmth of M/N’s arms around him, the quiet strength in his son’s gaze. The ache in his chest grows, spreading like poison, until he forces himself to move, to find Rhaenyra and deliver this wound that neither of them will ever truly heal from.

Rhaenyra is standing in front of the fireplace where he finds her, her face bathed in the flickering orange light. She is lost in thought, the shadows playing across her features, painting her in the likeness of a queen carved from grief and fury. Daemon hesitates, his heart breaking anew as he watches her, knowing that what he brings will destroy her.

“Rhaenyra,” he says softly, his voice breaking as he stands before her.

She turns slowly, her eyes meeting his, and he sees the question there, the hope that will soon shatter.

“Our son,” Daemon whispers, his voice hollow, his gaze darkening with a fury that rivals the flames in the hearth. “Our beautiful boy is… gone.”

They stand together, frozen in their grief, a grief that will fuel the fires of vengeance and drive them to the edge of reason. Rhaenyra’s face hardens, her gaze fixing on the flames, and Daemon stands beside her, his hand clenched into a fist, his mind already spinning with thoughts of revenge.

For the first time, they both understand the true cost of this war, and it is a cost they will bear together, bound by the shared agony of losing their son. The fire crackles in the hearth, the only sound in the heavy silence, but it pales in comparison to the flames igniting in their hearts. Rhaenyra’s face is a mask of grief, fury, and sorrow all twisted into one. Her lips press into a thin line as she swallows down the scream building within her chest, a scream for the child she will never see again.

Daemon moves closer to her, his hand trembling as it finds her shoulder. They do not need words to convey the devastation shared between them; the depth of their loss hangs heavy in the room. Slowly, Rhaenyra’s gaze lifts to meet Daemon’s, her expression both hollow and fierce, as if she stands poised on the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to succumb to her despair or let it drive her forward.

“That bastard Aemond will pay for this,” Daemon growls, his voice low and menacing. His face is cast in shadows, his gaze unyielding as he stares into the fire as if he can see his revenge reflected in the flickering flames. “For what he’s done… he will pay dearly.”

Rhaenyra’s lips part, and her voice is barely a whisper as she speaks, each word laced with an intensity that could rival dragonfire. “They have taken my son,” she breathes, her hand tightening into a fist as her nails bite into her palm. “They will know what it means to lose everything.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, a vow sworn in blood and loss. For a brief moment, they stand together, two grieving parents united in their shared pain, their sorrow forging an iron bond that no enemy can shatter.

But as the embers of their anger continue to burn, they know that this grief will not be still. It will demand action, demand retribution. And as Rhaenyra stares into the fire, she knows that this is not the end of her family’s suffering, but only the beginning of a dark, twisted path that will demand sacrifices they are only beginning to comprehend.

~ ~ ~ ~

A cold mist hangs over Dragonstone as Jacaerys returns from his journey to Winterfell. The familiar cliffs loom ahead, shrouded in dark clouds, and the sea churns below as Vermax soars through the gray dawn, his powerful wings slicing through the air. Jace feels the thrill of victory and purpose in his chest. He has done what was asked of him, securing House Stark as a steadfast ally in the fight for his mother’s throne. Cregan Stark, with his unyielding loyalty and fierce sense of honor, has promised his support, and Jace finds hope for what lies ahead.

Yet a strange, chilling apprehension lingers in his heart. Winterfell was colder than he’d expected, not just in climate but in spirit. The Starks had looked at him with quiet solemnity, as though sensing the shadows that clung to him. Jace brushed off the feeling, chalking it up to the North’s grim atmosphere, yet he can’t shake it now, not as Dragonstone looms closer. He tells himself it’s nothing, just the weight of the task, but his heartbeat quickens with an urgency he can’t name.

As Vermax lands, his powerful claws scraping against the stone, Jace dismounts and strides toward the keep, the rush of battle plans and future strategies still alive in his mind. He has news for his mother, news that will strengthen their cause. But when he enters the great hall, he pauses. Something feels wrong. Servants look away as he passes, their eyes downcast, their faces drawn, casting him glances that make his skin crawl.

The doors to the living room stand ajar, and he catches sight of his mother waiting inside. Rhaenyra sits, her figure slouched, wrapped in a dark cloak that seems to swallow her whole. Her face is pale, almost ghostly, her eyes rimmed red and shadowed as if she hasn’t slept in days. She looks up when he enters, her gaze sharp yet vulnerable, a broken queen trying to hold herself together.

“Mother,” he greets her, keeping his voice strong. “Winterfell stands with us. Lord Cregan Stark has pledged his banners. House Stark is ours.”

Rhaenyra nods, managing a faint smile. “Well done, Jace,” she says, her voice trembling. “You have done our House proud.”

“Luke succeeded too, didn’t he?” Jace asks, a little hope creeping into his tone as he searches her face. “He secured the support of House Arryn?”

“Yes,” she replies, nodding again, her gaze drifting away as if her mind is miles from this room. “The Arryns stand with us, thanks to Luke.”

A silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. Jace frowns, noticing her hesitation. He’d expected his mother to be overjoyed, to feel victorious, but she seems to sink deeper into sorrow with every word. Her gaze is distant, her face etches with anguish, and the emptiness in her eyes unsettles him.

“And M/N?” he asks, his heart hammering. “Has he returned?”

Rhaenyra flinches, her gaze dropping to the floor. The quiet that follows is deafening, each second a knife twisting in his chest. She doesn’t answer, and a creeping dread coils around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter. He takes a step closer, his voice pleading now, his mind refusing to accept the terrible silence.

“Mother…” he whispers, his tone desperate. “What about M/N?”

She presses a hand to her mouth, her shoulders shuddering as if under a great weight. For a moment, she looks like she might crumble completely, her face twisting in pain. She takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she wipes away a tear. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she finally speaks, each word drenched in sorrow.

“Jace… M/N will not come home,” she says, her voice breaking. “He… he’s gone.”

Jace blinks, the words not registering, their meaning foreign and unfathomable. His mind rebels against them, refusing to process the implications. “What…?” he chokes on the word, the disbelief clawing at his throat. “No. No, he’s not. He promised… he promised he’d be here. He’s waiting for me now.”

She shakes her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Aemond chased him down. M/N tried to escape, but Vhagar… Vhagar devoured him whole while Xerxes had been bitten into pieces. There was nothing left. Nothing.”

Her words shatter the fragile hope that clings to his heart. His chest tightens, his breath coming in short gasps as the truth crashes over him, unrelenting and brutal. He stumbles back, shaking his head, denial tearing through him like a storm. “No,” he mutters, his voice rising with each word. “No, he’s not dead. He can’t be dead! He promised he’d be here!”

Rhaenyra reaches for him, but he flinches away, his whole body trembling as anger and despair twist inside him, tearing him apart.

“He promised,” he cries, his voice cracking. “He said he’d wait for me! He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t break that promise. He wouldn’t leave me.”

Rhaenyra moves closer, her arms wrapping around him as he thrashes against her hold. “I’m so sorry, Jace,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she holds him tightly. “I’m so sorry, sweet boy.”

Jace’s anger breaks, giving away raw, wrenching grief. He sags against her, his fist pounding against her shoulders as sobs wrack his body. His voice is hoarse, torn from the depths of his soul, as he weeps in his mother’s arms. All his dreams, all his hopes, crumble to dust in that instant, the weight of loss crushing him as he clings to her, his tears soaking into her long dress.

That night, after his tears have dried and his mother has left him alone to grieve, Jace wanders the cold, empty halls of Dragonstone. The silence presses down on him, suffocating, each echo of his footsteps a reminder of what he has lost. He finds himself at the door to M/N’s bedchamber, his heart heavy, his mind numb.

He pushes the door open, the familiar scent of his beloved lingering in the air, wrapping around him like a ghostly embrace. The room is dim, with only a candle on the desk of M/N and shadows pooling in every corner. He crosses to the bed, the covers still rumpled from the last time M/N had lain there. Jace sinks onto the mattress, his fingers trembling as he brushes over the empty sheets, feeling the cold that has settled in M/N’s absence.

A shuddering sob escapes him, and he presses his face into the pillow, breathing in the faint scent of M/N’s hair, his skin, and his warmth. The weight of his grief is a physical ache, a hollow void that devours him from the inside. He lies there, clutching the sheets as his body shakes with silent tears, his heart breaking all over again with each breath.

Time loses meaning as he lies there, drowning in memories of laughter, stolen kisses, and whispered promises under starlit skies. He remembers the warmth of M/N’s touch, the sound of his voice, and the way his eyes softened whenever they looked at Jace. All of it feels like a cruel dream, slipping further and further away with each heartbeat.

After what feels like an eternity, he forces himself to sit up, his gaze drifting to the window. The world outside is dark, the stars hidden behind clouds as if even the heavens mourn his loss. He rises, crossing the room on unsteady feet, drawn to the window’s edge. He stares out into the void below, the cliffs sharp and jagged against the faint glimmer of the sea. A strange calm settles over him as he contemplates the drop, the final release it promises.

But he has something he needs to do first.

He moves M/N’s table, where papers and quills lie scattered across the surface. He sits, his fingers shaking as he dips the quill into the ink, each stroke heavy with purpose. He writes slowly, carefully, each word an offering, a farewell.

To My Dearest Family,

It is with a heart so heavy that words scarcely serve me now, for I know what sorrow and anger my choice will bring upon you. Yet as the dark night calls me to follow my beloved Prince M/N into eternal slumber, I must heard it, for what use is a life if it must walk alone, a hollow echo of what was once a symphony. To my dearest mother, Rhaenyra, I am grieved beyond measure for the agony my actions will inflict upon your heart; you, who fought so fiercely to secure my path to the throne, I now abandon it. Know, though, that no ambition could ever soothe the wound left by M/N’s death. Without him, the throne is but a lifeless relic, a kingdom barren of meaning. Daemon forgive me, too, for not possessing your strength to press on, for it was M/N who tethered my soul to this world, and with his passing, my own spirit has fled like ashes scattered to the winds. To my brothers, Luke and Joffrey, and my half-brothers, Aegon and Viserys—may you remember me as I was, not as I have become, one bound by love so deep that even death’s dark chasm could not keep us apart. You will lead where I cannot; you must carry forward the blood of the dragon, for I go now to M/N’s side, where perhaps even the bitterness of death may feel as sweet as the touch of his hand once was to me. To my grandmother Princess Rhaenys, a Queen Who Never Was, and my grandfather Lord Corlys, whose wisdom and courage I have always aspired to mirror, I ask forgiveness if my actions seem a disgrace to the name of Velaryon, yet I am only a boy who found in love something so profound that it cannot endure separation. And to dear Baela and Rhaena, who shared the shadows and sorrows of my heart—thank you, my cousins, of the soul; remember me with the gentlest of thoughts, for I leave you not out of malice, but out of love that transcends mortal binds. Pray, do not weep for me but hold fast to one another, for it is you, my family, who must rise like dragons anew. Though I depart from this world, know that I love you all still, more than words could ever tell, and that my spirit shall be forever intertwined with yours, as close as breath, as close as blood.

Forever with love and sorrow, Jacaerys Velaryon

When he finishes, he places the letter on the bed, laying his sword beside it as a final tribute. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, feeling the strange peace that comes with the decision. He walks back to the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his heart silent, ready.

With a last, lingering breath, he closes his eyes, and he… falls.

The night is still as Jace plummets through the cold air, his descent silent, and peaceful, an end he has chosen willingly to be reunited with the one he loved more than life itself. His body strikes the ground with a sickening thud, and a crimson pool begins to form beneath him, the blood seeping into the Earth, bearing witness to his final act of devotion.

The guards stationed nearby are the first to find him, their faces paling as they approach. They stare in disbelief, horror flooding in their expressions as they realize who it is lying broken on the ground before them.

“Prince Jacaerys…” one of them whispers, his voice quivering with shock.

They exchange stricken looks, understanding the weight of what they have just witnessed. One of the guards stumbles back, calling for help, his shout piercing the quiet night and echoing through the stone halls of the Dragonstone.

The news of Jace’s death spreads quickly, rippling through the keep like a wave of sorrow and disbelief. Servants whisper in hushed tones, their faces pale and their hearts heavy. The death of two beloved princes within days is too much for the realm to bear, it feels like the very heart of Dragonstone has been ripped out.

Two days later, Dragonstone is shrouded in a heavy silence, the grief so palbable that it feels as though the castle itself mourns. The skies are gray, the air thick with the weight of unspoken sorrow. Outside the castle, a small gathering stands somberly around a large pyre where Jace and M/N’s clothes lie folded neatly, ready to be set alight in a final tribute to their lives.

Rhaenyra, who’s holding the clothes of M/N, stands at the head of the pyre, her face a mask of unyielding grief, her eyes hollow, distant. Beside her, Luke, who’s holding the clothes of Jace, and Joffrey, the boy’s small fingers clutching his older brother’s clothes as though he understands the magnitude of this loss. Lord Corlys stands nearby, his face etched with sorrow, his shoulders weighed down by the grief of losing yet another grandson. Beside him is Rhaenys, her face set in a grim line, her eyes fierce with the anger and pain of a grandmother who has lost far too much.

Baela and Rhaena stand together, their faces pale, eyes red from weeping. They hold each other tightly, sisters united in sorrow, mourning the cousins they loved as brothers. The fire crackles and snaps as Rhaenyra steps forward, M/N’s clothes in her hands, her gaze fixed on the fire. She gently throws the clothes of M/N, her expression a mask of resolve even as her heart shatters anew. Luke follows, throwing gently Jace’s clothes before he takes Joffrey’s hand. As the flames begin to consume the clothes, Rhaenyra stares into the fire, her face illuminated by the flickering light. She remembers the letter Jace left behind after receiving the news of Jace’s death, the words that cut through her like a blade. He had loved her, she knows, but his heart had belonged to M/N, and in his death, he had found a way to be with him. The thought brings her no comfort, only a bitter, seething rage that coils within her feet.

She clenches her fists, her gaze hardening as she watches the flames rise higher, consuming the last remnants of her beloved sons. At that moment, she makes a silent vow—a promise to bring her pain upon the Greens, to ensure that Aemond and all who supported him would know the depths of her loss. Her heart is forged, burning with a wrath that only blood can quench.

The ceremony is brief, marked only by the sound of crackling flames and the soft murmurs of grief. When it is done, the gathering disperses slowly, each person lost in their own sorrow. Rhaenyra remains by the pyre long after everyone else has gone, her gaze fixed on the dying embers, her heart a wasteland.

In another world, far removed from the realm of the living, Jace finds himself at peace. He stands on the tranquil beach, the sky a gentle shade of twilight, the waves lapping softly at the shore. He feels a presence beside him, warm and familiar, and he turns to see M/N standing there, watching him with a quiet smile.

M/N steps closer, reaching out to take Jace’s hand, his touch grounding and real in a way Jace hadn’t dared to hope for. They stand in silence for a moment, letting the weight of their reunion settle between them. Finally, M/N speaks, his voice soft and filled with regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his gaze earnest. “I promised I’d wait for you, and I broke that promise.”

Jace shakes his head, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replies, his voice steady, his heart finally at peace. “When you died, half of my soul died with you. I couldn’t stay without you.”

M/N’s eyes shine with a mixture of love and sadness as he pulls Jace close, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, the words carrying all the weight of his devotion, all the moments they had lost, and all the eternity they now had to spend together.

They share a deep, lingering kiss, one filled with the promises they can finally fulfill. When they part, Jace feels the warmth of M/N’s hand in his, steady and unyielding, a bond that death could not sever.

Above them, a familiar roar echoes, and they look up to see Xerxes, M/N’s loyal dragon, circling above. His scales glisten in the light, and his eyes shine with recognition as he watches his rider reunited with his love.

M/N smiles, tugging Jace with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “Come,” he says, gesturing to Xerxes. “Let us fly together, as we were always meant to.”

Without hesitation, Jace nods, following M/N to the great beast waiting patiently for them. They climb onto Xerxes’ back, Jace settling in behind M/N, his arms wrapped securely around his beloved’s waist. The dragon roars again, a sound of joy and freedom, as he takes to the sky, his powerful wings lifting them above the endless horizon.

Together, they soar through the afterlife, free from the pain and sorrow that had once bound them. They are whole, and at peace, their souls forever entwined as they ride through the eternal skies.

[bobohu4eva]

I'm one of your readers and i read your stories since 2022.but these days I'm so busy with study that i couldn't regularly read your stories.but can you please write oneshot on baekhyun as an anatomy lecturer and reader who is 7 years younger than him .. please 🥺

7 years is oddly specific but I'm into it, that's the age gap between me and Baek and also between my parents who've been married for like 30 years so!

What comes to mind for me...

MDNI 18+ suggestive content ahead (non explicit)

You watch as Baekhyun strides confidently across the stage, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone in the lecture hall. He's one of those professors all the students love, he's young, charming, not too strict about deadlines, and insists everyone call him by his first name. He's by far the most attractive professor on campus, too.

The early autumn air is still exceptionally warm, and he's wearing a simple black t shirt and well fitted jeans. You can't get enough of the way it shows off his broad shoulders and strong chest. Fluffy black hair frames his handsome face, the entire look making him nothing short of irresistible. You truly wonder how the other girls in class are able to focus.

The day's subject matter is already enough to have many of the young women in class blushing, including yourself. Baekhyun's subject of expertise is anatomy, and today's lecture is focused on the reproductive system.

He talks about it all with such ease, not even a hint of awkwardness in his voice. To him, it's all science, nothing more.

Except, when he looks at you.

You've been wondering if he's picked up on your little crush, on the way you like to flutter your eyelashes at him, the lollipop you often have provocatively between your lips, how low cut many of your shirts have become.

The strength of his gaze is your answer. In fact, you begin to realize that he's saved his tormenting you for this lecture specifically.

As he maps out the various pleasure centers on the female body, his eyes always come back to your own. He even smiles a little, making a joke to the male students in the class, that they should make sure to take extra notes on this topic. But all the while, his attention is undoubtedly on you.

From your front row seat, mere feet away, he can easily see the red flush deepen in response to his teasing.

He knows, without a doubt.

Never before has a lecture gone by so fast, while somehow also dragging on for what feels like ages. Every second of his twinkling eyes and pleased smirk as he talks about the g spot, or the clitoris, watching as you shift in your seat, drive you closer to madness. You know Baekhyun is nothing like the boy's you've slept with in the past, he is a man, and he knows exactly what he's doing.

And that makes him all the more enticing. The age gap along with his undeniable position of authority make it all so wrong, and yet you still want him bad. Maybe it isn't despite of how wrong it is, but because of just that.

As the rest of the students pack up to leave, you can't seem to get your bearings. You remain stupidly in your seat, and soon it's only you and Baekhyun in the otherwise empty lecture hall.

"___? Did you want to ask me anything?" He asks, seeing how you make no effort to leave.

"I'm not sure." You mutter in response, dazed as he steps closer, right in front of your desk.

"You're not sure?"

You stare back at him, barely nodding in agreement.

Again, there's a hint of a smile on his perfect lips as he closes even more of the distance, tracing a light path down your arm before taking your hand in his own. His eyes take their time, letting you see the way he stares at your chest. He's leaning over you, almost menacingly, towering over where you're seated.

"Why don't we head to my office, and see if you can remember your question there?"

His face reveals nothing, but you know you must look stunned, staring up at him in surprised confusion. You nod and stand up, all in a daze as you follow him.

Was this really happening? You ask yourself, and what would happen when you get to his office? The rapid pounding of your heart is impossible to ignore as he stops in front of his office door, opening it for you before following you inside.

The second it clicks shut Baekhyun has you backed up to the door, dark eyes fixated on your lips.

"___, darling, how old are you?"

He knew it was unlikely for someone under 18 to be in a senior level class, but not impossible. He wasn't going to take any chances.

"Twenty one. How old are you?"

He smiles. He's so close, you can smell the faint traces of his cologne. "Twenty eight."

The effect he has on you is all too obvious. It pleases him greatly, seeing the way your lip trembles, the damp sheen at your hairline, the way you begin to squeeze your thighs together.

"Have you figured out what you'd like to ask me?" His voice is light as a feather, soft and almost soothing in tone.

When you don't respond, he continues, "Maybe it was something about the class material? Was I unclear about anything?"

His words sound innocent enough, though you can sense the direction he's headed in, which is anything but.

You nod, looking up at him intently. A chill runs down your spine when you feel him gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Tell me, sweetheart."

"I need help." You finally get out, barely more than a whisper. "I need your help. To... Understand."

Knowing eyes scan over your face and body, smirking at the effect he so clearly has on you, when he's barely even touched you.

"Those college boys can't make you feel good, can they?"

It was already clear to you where this interaction is headed, and yet those words still tug a small gasp from your parted lips. Your entire body seems to be overheating, the blush on your cheeks burning so hot you feel you might ignite any second.

You shake your head, trembling as his hands meet your waist. "Baekhyun, please."

"You want me to show you? Want to learn how good you can really feel, baby?"

You nod, barely holding onto your last bit of sanity as he inches impossibly closer, until he's whispering in your ear.

"I'll teach you."

[sugoroo]

TRADING CARDS!

ʚɞ summary: toji’s in need of some cash, and you’re in need of having your cherry popped! he’ll take your v card if you lend him your credit card. simple, right?

warnings: fem!reader, penetration (p in v), breast play, tummy bulge, squirting, loss of virginity (reader), fingering, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader just finished college), tojis a bit of a perv, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.2k

"hey, doll?" toji grunts as he pokes his head into your room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he shoots you a slightly apologetic grin. "i'm gonna need ya to cover my half of the rent again this month."

you look up from your phone, your lips pulling down into a small frown at his words. this isn't the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last, either. "seriously, toji?"

toji simply gives you a noncommittal shrug in response, turning the pockets of his sweatpants inside out as if to further prove his point — there wasn't a single cent in sight. "i ain't got nothin', sweets. hardly been able to buy food these last few days."

you roll your eyes, letting out a soft huff at his not-so-subtle attempt to make you feel bad for him (which almost always worked, and he knew it.) "fine. but you better come through next month. i can't keep covering you."

he lets out a sigh of relief, reaching out to ruffle your hair with one his large hands. "yeah yeah, i'll pay up next time. promise." he was lying through his teeth, and you both knew it. but you chose not to comment on it — maybe a small part of you wanted to keep toji as your roommate, even if you had to pay his rent half the time.

toji heads back out into the living room to lazily slump across the couch, leaving you to your own thoughts.

it was really starting to grate on your nerves how much you had to support him. he's a fully grown man, and you're a young girl fresh out of college. and yet, somehow, you ended up being the one paying his bills with the leftover money from your summer job.

and maybe it wouldn't bother you so much, if you weren't so constantly pent up.

college was supposed to be your time to shine, where you'd attend countless parties and have meaningless hookups with guys in bathrooms, just like all the movies you watched when you were younger.

but it wasn't really like that. and as much as you loathe to admit it, you're still a virgin. with only your own feeble fingers to keep you company, you can probably count on one hand the amount of orgasms you've had in your life.

and that's when you have an idea.

it's just like trading cards — toji takes your v card, and in return, you lend him your credit card.

it's shameless, and you might've felt embarrassed with yourself for even coming up with it if you weren't in dire need of releasing some tension.

and if toji's as desperate for money as he makes out like he is, maybe he wouldn't mind agreeing to your little proposition.

the only catch in your genius idea is that you actually have to ask toji about it.

you've been lingering outside his bedroom door for what feels like hours, trying to figure out how to actually phrase your proposal without making a complete fool of yourself.

but just as you timidly raise a fist to knock, the door swings open, and toji walks right into you, causing you to collide face first with his toned chest. you barely register the two strong hands that rest over your shoulders to steady you, your mind suddenly laser focused on the way your cheek is squished between his pecs.

"oops. sorry, doll," toji chuckles heartily, moving one of his hands from your shoulder to gently grasp your hair and pull your now noticeably flushed face away from his chest. "didn't see ya there."

"n-no, it's my fault." you manage to stammer out, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain your composure. shit, you hadn't even asked him yet, and you were already a mess.

he raises a thick eyebrow at your skittish demeanour, his hand leaving your hair to teasingly poke at one of your adorably pink cheeks. "aww, what's this? you blushin'?"

you try and shoot him a glare, but it looks more like a pout than anything else as you meekly swat his hand away from your face. "shut up, toji. you're the one who walked right into me."

he lets out a deep, amused chortle at this, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you with a lazy smirk. "right. and you're the one who was lingering outside my door like a creeper."

you let out an embarrassed huff at his rebuttal, knowing there's no way to deny it now. you take another deep breath, idly wringing your hands as you crane your neck to look up at him. "yeah. about that. i, um, i wanted to ask you something."

toji cocks his head to the side, his expression turning mildly curious. "oh? what could you possibly want to ask this old man, hm?" he grunts, your little nervous fidgets not going unnoticed by him.

"w-well, i, um..." you begin, your features twisting up into a grimace as you struggle to get the words out. damn it, you were already cursing your past self for thinking this was a good idea. "i have a proposition for you."

this seems to pique the dark-haired man's interest, and he straightens his back slightly, reaching up with a large hand to scratch his chin. "what kind of proposition are we talkin', sweets?"

you swallow thickly at the way he puts such emphasis on the word proposition, as if he already knows exactly what you're thinking. but of course he doesn't — how could he?

"the kind of proposition where i lend you my credit card to help with your little... money problem," you begin, fighting to keep your voice as steady as possible. "and in return, you..."

toji's eyebrows raise even higher at your words, and he lets out a grunt of irritation when you trail off at the end of your sentence. "in return i what? use your words, doll."

"and in return, you..." you repeat quietly, your voice becoming consistently quieter until the last few words come out as a mere whisper. "help me lose my virginity."

the silence that follows your words is absolutely deafening, the only noise being the faint sounds of cars passing by the road outside the apartment.

you immediately start thinking of ways to salvage the situation, maybe just laugh it off and say it was a prank or something. it's a flimsy excuse, but it's better than this painful silence.

just as you open your mouth in an attempt to backtrack, toji grasps your chin in one large hand, effectively shutting you up with the movement. "you're a damn virgin?" he rasps out, turning your flushed face from side to side as if examining it would help him find the answer.

"u-uh, yeah," you mutter sheepishly, shrinking in on yourself slightly under the sudden intensity of his gaze. "why do you sound so surprised?"

toji barks out an almost incredulous laugh, as if you were utterly ridiculous for even asking such a thing. "seriously?" he huffs, shaking his head. "you're a fine little thing. figured ya would've had guys linin' up around the block for ya at college."

your eyes widen almost comically at his words, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you try to form a coherent response. you never expected your considerably older, rough around the edges roommate to actually find you attractive. "i-is that a yes, then?"

he scoffs loudly at this, repeating your words back to you in a mocking tone. "how the hell do ya expect me to say no to that?" he mutters, the pad of his thumb skimming across your jaw. "i've done worse deals for a whole lot less."

you let out a long sigh of relief, some of the tension leaving your shoulders at his agreement. the hardest part was out the way — you'd managed to get him on board.

"hey." toji grunts, his hand on your chin squeezing hard enough to get your attention as he angles it higher, tearing you from your thoughts. "look at me when we're talkin', girl."

your eyes widen even further at his sudden commanding tone, your thighs instinctively pressing together slightly beneath your skirt. the reaction doesn't go unnoticed by toji, but he doesn't comment on it, simply filing the information away for later.

"ya sure this is what y'want, sweets?" toji asks, his voice barely above a low mutter as he leans his head down closer to your level, his hot breaths just barely puffing across your face as he seemingly searches for any signs of hesitance. "once it's done there ain't no goin' back."

"i... i know." you gulp, vaguely aware of the way his dark eyes follow the gentle bobbing of your throat. "i wouldn't have asked if i didn't want this."

he hums, appearing satisfied with your answer. his thumb moves from your jaw to the plump skin of your lower lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "how long do i get ya credit card for?"

"how long?" you repeat, blinking a few times. you hadn't even thought about that. and it was becoming quite hard to focus with the way he was toying with your lip. "um... twenty four hours."

toji grunts in acknowledgement, but his lips start to spread into a mischievous grin, and you can tell he's not going to make this easy for you. "nah. forty eight."

you let out an indignant huff, your eyes narrowing at the audacity of this man. two whole days? he was probably planning on bankrupting you at this rate. "thirty six." you counter.

he lets out a hearty laugh, his chest visibly rumbling with amusement at your haggling. his thumb traces over your lip again, causing you to let out a shuddering breath. "mm. ya got y'erself a deal there, dollface."

"good." you mutter, reaching out a hand towards him in a gesture of sealing the deal. toji takes it, his large hand entirely enveloping yours as he gives it a brisk shake.

before you can even think of saying anything else, toji uses his grip on your hand to tug you closer to his chest, your face almost colliding with his torso again.

"i'm assumin' you've atleast kissed before?" toji muses, this thumb still tracing the contour of your lips as if that would answer his question.

you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you find yourself avoiding his gaze again. "yeah, i have."

toji tuts, yanking your chin back up again, more forcibly this time. "jesus, girl. what did i say about keeping your eyes on me?" he grumbles. "and whatcha laughin' for? i say somethin' funny?"

"sorry." you huff, your lips pushing out into an involuntary pout. "i'm not laughing because of you. it was just a really... bad kiss."

he hums in response, tilting his head to the side as his grin morphs into a small smirk. "damn. a virgin and you've never even had a good kiss. i got my work cut out for me here."

you try and shoot him another glare, a huff of exasperation leaving your lips. "no need to rub it in, toji. i'm paying you for this, remember?"

toji barks out an amused chuckle, shaking his head at your little attempts to try and look stern. cute. "yeah yeah, i know ya are. and don't worry, ya won't regret it."

you're about to open your mouth to retort, but before a single syllable can leave your mouth, toji's lips are on yours. they're rough and slightly chapped as they brush over your own, just the texture you would've expected them to be if you had to guess.

it's not a rough kiss, but it's not exactly gentle either. it's somewhere in the middle, somewhere that makes you think even the way toji kisses is just so... toji.

he pulls away after a few moments, letting out a soft huff of laughter at your dazed expression. "you still in there, sweets?" he hums, flicking his thumb against your forehead.

you can feel the way your cheeks flush darker at his taunting words, silently cursing yourself for getting so worked up over a simple kiss. damn it, it was so obvious just how touch starved you were. how were you going to make it through this?

"i'm still here." you grumble under your breath, causing toji to chuckle even harder. "and if you're just gonna keep laughing at me, maybe i'll go ask someone else to help me."

toji's chuckle turns into a bark of laughter, and his lips curve up into a smug grin as he flicks your forehead again. "no can do. we already shook on it. handshake's sacred, dollface. dontcha know?"

"ugh. you just made that—" you attempt to argue, but he shuts you up by pressing his lips back onto yours again, slightly rougher this time. you let out a sound of surprise against his mouth when his scar brushes against your skin, but slowly, you start to reciprocate the gesture.

he lets out a satisfied hum, starting to take a few steps backwards through the doorway of his room, his lips still moving against yours all the way.

you angle your face up to unknowingly chase after his lips when he pulls away, and you have to swallow down the embarrassing sound that threatens to escape you when you realize what you're doing.

toji snorts, shutting the door behind the two of you with a stupidly self-satisfied smirk stretching across his lips. "that attached to me already, huh? we only just started."

"i'm not attached." you scoff meekly, though your actions severely contradict your words as you lean up on your tiptoes in the search of another kiss.

"mhm. whatever y'say, girl." he mutters amusedly, his hand snaking under your chin again to help you reach his mouth. he meets you halfway, his kisses growing slowly more insistent as his tongue flickers out to swipe over your lower lip.

a soft gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle asking for entrance into your mouth, but you comply, parting your lips to allow the intrusion.

he lets out a satisfied grunt, his tongue darting every which way as it expertly explores the warm cavern of your mouth. you just stand there, completely stock still, for a long few seconds before your own tongue starts to meekly lick against his.

"yeah, there we go," toji mutters into your mouth, his thick tongue easily enveloping yours as he rolls them together. he's so effortless with it, like this is second nature for him — you suppose it probably is. you're not oblivious to the amount of hookups he brings back to the apartment when he thinks you're asleep.

toji pulls back from your mouth with a lewd pop! once he registers that you need some air, observing the way your chest rapidly rises and falls like you can't get enough oxygen with silent amusement.

he's going to have such fun pulling more of these pretty reactions from you.

while you're still desperately trying to catch your breath, he slides both of his rough, calloused palms under the fabric of your shirt, his hands leaving a tingling trail of heat across your skin.

"wait—" you begin to protest, but whatever you were going to say trails off once you feel his fingers brush against the underside of your breasts.

he lets out a grunt of surprise, raising his bushy eyebrows. "no bra, doll?" toji scoffs, shaking his head. "you were ready for this, weren't ya?

your cheeks flood with embarrassment for the nth time this evening, and you feel the sudden urge to just shove his hands away and go back to your room to get yourself off with your feeble fingers. but you don't.

toji lets out yet another snort of laughter at your reaction, rolling his eyes. "i ain't sayin' it's a bad thing, girl," he mumbles, moving his hands to cup each of your breasts in his wide palms. "makes things easier for me. i like it."

you let out a small huff of relief at his sort-of-creepy reassurance, unable to fight the way your body instinctively leans into his touch, pressing your chest into his hands slightly.

he hums, removing his hands only to push your shirt up to get a look at your bare breasts, the fabric bunching up around your collarbone as he leans in closer to inspect your assets.

"toji!" you gasp in complaint, trying to push down the instinct to cover yourself up from your roommate's intense gaze. but when your hands fly up to guard your chest, he instantly grabs your wrists, making you freeze.

"ah ah," he chides with a smug smirk, easily moving both of your wrists into one hand while the other reaches out to fondle your breasts. "no need to be shy. ya got a nice pair of juicy tits right here."

his compliment is so lewd, and even with the way you attempt to wriggle your wrists free from his grip, he effortlessly keeps them trapped with one strong hand.

toji squeezes and kneads the supple flesh of your breasts, laving both with equal attention as he feels up every inch of skin available to him. he can't believe his little roommate has been hiding these pretty tits from him all this time.

when he leans down to pop one into his mouth, you let out a strangled gasp which quickly morphs into an almost pornographic moan when he starts to gently suckle at your highly sensitive nipple.

"shit." you manage to push out, your breaths becoming increasingly more erratic as he starts to flick his rough tongue over your perked bud. you can feel rather than hear the raspy chuckle he lets out at your reaction.

"so damn sensitive," toji rumbles as he pulls back from your breast, which is now shiny and slick with his salvia, before moving to the other. "y'like that, huh?"

it takes you a few moments to form a coherent response, your mind suddenly feeling unable to focus on anything other than the way he's practically making out with your chest. "y-yeah."

toji's smirk widens in a grin at your stammered words, clearly finding enjoyment in the way your body is reacting to his every touch. "bet ya do. poor thing, graduated college and still never been properly touched."

you let out an indignant huff, annoyance momentarily taking over your pleasure. damn it, why did he always have to mock you at any given opportunity? you're starting to wish you never told him about your virginity.

he snorts again at your huff, removing his mouth from your breast with a long, stringy trail of salvia connecting his lips to your chest. "whatcha huffin' for, girl? thought ya wanted this."

you shoot him another one of your trying-to-be-stern-but-really-just-pouting glares. "i do want this. but i also want you to stop laughing at me the entire time."

he rolls his eyes dramatically, acting as if not laughing at your expense was the most difficult thing he'd been asked to do today. "i'm not laughin' at you, dollface. i'm laughin' at those stupid ass college boys who missed out on having you like this."

before you can even begin to process his words, toji crowds you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you instinctively plop down onto the mattress, looking up at him with wide eyes.

he snickers at your shocked expression, moving forward to stand between your legs. from this position, he towers over you even more than usual, and you have to crane your neck practically all the way back to meet his eyes.

"why so surprised, hmm?" toji drawls, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an uncharacteristically gentle touch. "y'think i didn't notice how pretty ya were the first damn day ya moved in?"

you open and close your mouth a few times before managing to pull yourself together enough to speak. "honestly? i kinda figured you didn't pay me much attention — considering how many hookups you bring around here."

he hums in response, moving his hand to grasp your chin and force you to maintain eye contact with him. "so you noticed that, huh?" he grunts, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "they're just distractions, really. i've wanted you for a while, but i assumed ya wouldn't be interested in and old man like me."

you can only raise an eyebrow incredulously at his words, as if he'd just said something ridiculous. "toji, you're so dramatic. you're not that old."

he barks out a loud laugh at this, slowly lowering himself to his knees between your legs. the audible sound of his muscles protesting the movement seems to disprove your words, making you wince. "no need to flatter me, sweets. i know 'm old." he mutters, his smirk still firmly in place.

you open your mouth to argue, but quickly forget whatever you were about to say when toji's large palms start to trail up your thighs, stopping just below the edge of your skirt.

"ya got no panties on too?" he asks teasingly, although you can hear the faint sense of actual curiosity in his tone. however, when his fingers graze against the edge of your lace panties, he huffs. "hmph. you disappoint me."

you roll your eyes at his words. you would've gone pantyless too, but unfortunately the prospect of finally losing your virginity made you so wet that you had to wear them to prevent yourself from dripping on the floor of the apartment.

"you've touched yourself before, i take it?" toji grunts as his hand moves to easily cup your clothed pussy in his palm, his smirk becoming a grin again when he feels how damp the material is.

you suck in a sharp breath, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at the feel of someone else's hand except your own touching your most sensitive area. "y-yeah, i have. but it's..."

toji seems to understand why you trailed off, letting out a hum of acknowledgement as his fingers start to rub little circles against your panties. "but your little fingers can't make you cum right, yeah?"

you can only manage a feeble nod, fighting the urge to start grinding yourself into his hand. he chuckles amusedly at your reaction, his fingers just dipping under the edge of your panties but not quite.

if you were one of his usual hookups, he'd probably be balls deep inside you by now. but you're not — you're his pretty little roommate he's had his eye on for a while, and on top of that, you're a virgin.

he's going to take his sweet time with you.

toji spends what feels like an eternity teasing you through your underwear until you're squirming restless on the edge of his bed before he finally, finally makes direct contact with your pussy.

"shit," he grunts as he swipes his finger through your sopping folds, the digit practically slipping across your slick skin. "you're so damn wet, baby. i've hardly even touched you yet."

you can't stop the pathetic whine that escapes your throat, your cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink and your eyes half-lidded with need as you look down at him. "please, toji."

fucking hell. he actually has to restrain himself from just pouncing on you right there and then when you beg him so sweetly. instead, he lets out a raspy chuckle, his finger moving down to lazily circle your dripping entrance. "please what, girl? use your words."

"please..." you say again, your voice breathless as you wriggle your hips slightly underneath his hand. "touch me properly."

toji snorts at your phrasing, shaking his head. but before another retort can leave his lips, he's rendered speechless for a moment when he slides a finger into your entrance, your gummy walls instantly sucking him in.

"jesus," he mutters hoarsely, yanking your panties to the side with his other hand to get an unobstructed view of the way your little pussy flutters around his finger. "what a pretty fuckin' cunt."

you let out what can only be described as a mewl at his words, and the noise sounds foreign to your own ears. god, what is he doing to you?

he groans low in his throat at the sound you make, moving his finger around inside of you as gently as he can and brushing the thick digit against your spongy walls.

it should be illegal, really, how quickly toji manages to find your sweet spot. he's had a single finger inside your pussy for just under a minute, and the calloused pad of his digit is already grazing your sensitive g spot.

"ah!" you practically sob, your thighs instinctively clenching around his beefy arm. you've never felt such an intense spark of pleasure before — it's obvious you never managed to find that spot before when you attempted to get yourself off.

he grins smugly, brushing his finger over the spot again, almost touching it but not quite enough to properly stimulate you. "that's the spot, ain't it, dollface?" the question is rhetorical. you both know that's the spot.

but before you can start grinding yourself down onto his finger, he abruptly pulls it out, admiring the way the digit is now coated in your shiny slick.

you open your mouth to protest, or beg for more, or something, but all rational thoughts leave your mind when you see toji slip his finger into his mouth, sucking your juices from it with a low grunt.

"damn, that's good," he mutters gruffly, almost to himself, as he slides it out of his mouth with a lewd pop! — his eyes then fall back on your glistening pussy, his pupils dilated considerably more than before.

in a matter of moments, toji's slid your ruined panties down your legs, admiring the sticky mess soiled there before shamelessly shoving them in his pocket of his sweatpants.

"hey!—" you huff half-heartedly, but before you can even think of finishing the sentence, toji's chapped lips are placing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs.

"mmph," you moan softly, not bothering to protest as he slides your thighs further apart with his palms, his lips nibbling against the supple skin of your inner thighs, undoubtably leaving small marks that will bloom tomorrow.

"wanna eat you," toji murmurs once he's face to face with your pussy, his hot breaths puffing across your sensitive skin and visibly making your little clit twitch impatiently. "can i eat you, dollface?"

you crease your eyebrows a little in confusion at his request. from what you'd heard from your college friends, guys hated performing oral for girls. but the way toji was staring hungrily at your cunt, his tongue swiping across his dry lips, made you think he would simply laugh at you again if you told him that.

"o-okay," you mutter sheepishly. and the second the agreement leaves your lips, toji's burying his entire face against your heat, groaning into your pussy as he rubs his sharp nose up and down your sopping folds.

when he first slides his rough tongue across your sensitive skin, you swear you go cross-eyed for a full moment before regaining control of yourself. it's like nothing you've ever felt before, wet and warm and so deliciously lewd.

"fuckin' sweeter than candy," toji grunts against your skin, the vibrations causing your body to instinctively attempt to wriggle away. but he's not having it, his beefy arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you in place. "ah ah, no runnin', baby."

while before you might've tried to argue a little in protest, your brain has already turned to mush from just his finger and his tongue, so you can only let out a few unintelligible murmurs.

"yeahhh," he snorts as he continues to sloppily lap at your folds, gathering as much of your syrupy slick on his tastebuds as possible. "don't hear none of that backtalk now."

god, he's so messy with it. you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open to gaze at him, but when you do, it only makes your pleasure heighten to new levels.

you've never seen your roommate so focused on anything before — not even those storage wars shows he likes to shout at on the tv. his eyes are half-lidded, his thick fingers are digging into your thighs so hard you can visibly see the marks forming, and his tongue is ruthless as it delves in and out of your dripping hole.

"t-toji, shit. feels so good," you manage to stammer out, your head thrown back and your hands traveling up to tangle in his messy dark hair without thinking, tugging on it gently.

your action draws a raspy chuckle from low in toji's throat, and his sloppy, shameless tongue seems to speed up even more in response. you vaguely register a glob of saliva landing on your pussy, but just as quick as it falls there, he's already licking it back up. "c'mon, girl, i know you can pull harder than that."

you attempt to tug his dishevelled strands harder, but your hands feel weak, and your thighs are starting to shake slightly around his head. you notice a familiar spring coiling in the depths of your stomach, but it feels more intense than any build-up to an orgasm you've given yourself before.

"t-think i'm close." you gasp out, your mouth hanging open as you try and keep your body from collapsing back against the mattress. he's quick to help, his hands sliding up the back of your skirt to support your back.

toji hums in satisfaction, a shit-eating (or, in this case, a pussy-eating) grin spreading across his lips as he continues to devour you, his tongue repeatedly massaging your g spot.

it feels like he's trying to eat you whole, and it's completely overwhelming in the best way possible.

"yeah?" he mutters against your cunt, wrapping his lips around your puffy, swollen clit and sucking the sensitive bud harshly. "go on then, baby. cum for me."

it feels like a part of you was instinctively waiting for his permission, because the second those words leave his mouth, your entire body starts convulsing in his strong arms, a strangled cry leaving your open mouth as you orgasm.

your earlier suspicion was right, because this is the hardest you've ever cum before in your entire life. (not that there's really much competition). your limbs feel all tingly and airy, and there aren't really many thoughts left in your mind except from toji, toji, toji.

"hmmph," toji grumbles, pulling back from your cunt after he's sure every bit of your sweet release is down his throat. he looks up at you, snickering gruffly at the utterly dumb look across your features.

you look completely fucked out already, and he hasn't even fucked you yet. that's what happens when you make a deal with a virgin, he assumes.

while you attempt to come down from your high, toji shifts slightly, his knees aching slightly from spending so long on the floor. but even worse than that, is the raging erection he has straining against the material of his sweatpants.

it's been there since he started kissing you, and it's only gotten progressively worse as the time stretched on. he's so hard now that it actually hurts, and the small stain of pre-cum darkening the front makes him feel like a damn teenager again.

toji gets to his feet, ignoring the way his stiff muscles protest, and sheds his sweats and his boxers in one swift movement, kicking them somewhere across the room. he makes his way between your legs, spreading them even further apart to make room for his body.

"wait..." you mumble dazedly, your words adorably slurred as you blink lazily up at him, reaching out a hand as if silently asking for something. "don't y'want me to return the favour first?"

he snorts, although it makes something inside him warm the slightest bit at your consideration. "nah, dollface. you're paying me, not the other way 'round, yeah?"

your pouty expression from earlier returns, but before you can argue further, your eyes fall on his cock, which you only just notice is free from his sweatpants. it's bigger than any you've seen videos of online before, with a prominent vein running down the length and pearly rivulets of pre-cum leaking from the pudgy tip.

your mouth falls into a small 'o' shape, a sudden sense of dread filling you at the mere thought of trying to take that inside of you. why did you have to make this deal with someone who has such an unnecessarily large dick?

toji chuckles deeply at your reaction, cocking his head to the side with a smug smirk. "what? don't tell me you're g'nna chicken out on me now, sweets?"

you could just smooth down your skirt, hand him your credit card as payment for what he's done for you already, and walk right out of his room the way you came in.

but you don't. you've come too far already to back out now — you're this close to finally losing your virginity.

"no," you murmur meekly, swallowing thickly and tearing your eyes away from his cock and meeting his eyes again. "i don't wanna stop. it's just... is that thing really gonna fit in me?"

he barks out an amused laugh at this, his rough palms on your thighs squeezing in what's probably his way of giving you a reassuring gesture. "it'll fit, baby. i loosened you up a little already, so that'll help."

"okay," you mutter, your eyes flickering back down as he wraps a large hand around the meaty base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance and rubbing it along your puffy folds, gathering some of your creamy slick on the head. "is it gonna hurt? it's gonna hurt, isn't it?"

toji huffs at your hurried rambling, leaning his head down to shut you up with a quick kiss to your lips. "it'll only hurt at the start," he grunts in as soothing a tone as he can muster, bracing a hand against the headboard above you.

this seems to ease your nerves, if only a little, and you nod in a sign of silent permission. but he doesn't appear satisfied with this, and he grasps your chin with his free hand. "that ain't good enough, dollface. use your words f'me."

"y-you can start now." you murmur in response, your eyes glued to the way the muscles in his arm flex above you as he begins to slowly push himself in.

"fuckin' shit," he groans, the sound more guttural than anything he's let out so far as his cock breaches the first ring of muscle inside of you, his beefy arm visibly shaking as he tries to hold himself back from just plunging all the way in. "so damn tight in here."

your face contorts into a grimace as a rush of pain pangs through your body, your hands clutching at the sheets for purchase. you'd heard about it hurting online, but then again, most people didn't take a cock as big as toji's for their first time.

"sorry, babydoll." he mutters hoarsely, his gruff tone holding an underlying tone of genuine sympathy instead of the amusement he's shown so far — he's clearly aware of the strain he's having on your body.

he gives you a few moments to adjust to the intrusion, gritting his teeth to hold back any sounds that threaten to spill out of his mouth when he feels your cunt clenching and unclenching around him.

"you can keep going now," you manage to say, your eyes screwed shut and your hands fisted in the bedcovers as you try to deal with the pain. "i'm okay."

he grunts in response, the hand that was around your chin moving to grasp one of your balled up hands as he continues to sink himself inside inch by inch. he can feel how hard you squeeze his hand the entire time, probably cutting off the circulation to his arm in the process.

but he couldn't care less about that. not when he so close to finally being balls deep inside of his pretty little roommate.

"biiiig stretch." toji hums, a low, drawn out sound, when he finally feels himself bottom out, your spongy walls contracting and fluttering around him as if they can't decide whether to push the intrusion out or pull it in deeper. "there we go."

you, on the other hand, couldn't manage to string together a single syllable. it feels like toji has buried himself into your guts, like he's physically rearranging your anatomy right before your eyes.

toji lets his own eyes flutter shut for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. he knows you need a while to adjust to taking all of him, but damn if he doesn't want to pound you into the mattress right now.

you let out a strangled groan, wriggling around against the covers as your body stretches to accommodate his sheer size. it feels like he could split you in half without much effort. "p-please... start moving, toji."

"you sure?" he rasps gruffly, his hand gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles have gone completely white. "once i start i prolly won't be able to stop."

"i-i don't care. just..." you begin, unable to even finish the thought when he shifts slightly, unintentionally pushing into you even deeper. "move."

he snorts at your desperation, but the sound turns into something akin to a growl when he pulls out slightly, before shoving himself right back in all the way.

"ah!" you sob pathetically, clinging onto his hand even tighter as he starts to shallowly thrust into you. shit, you're pretty sure you just felt something inside of you snap.

you're officially no longer a virgin.

"yeahhh." toji grunts above you, his lips spreading into a pussydrunk grin as he moves he moves his hips leisurely but expertly. you're starting to understand why his hookups always cry his name so loud through the thin walls separating your rooms.

the initial pain slowly starts to fade, being replaced by an overwhelming sense of pleasure and fullness. you bring your shaky legs up to wrap around his beefy back, your ankles locking against his skin.

"jesus, girl," he groans, his hips subtly stuttering in their pace in response to your actions. "y'er pullin' me in even deeper."

you open your mouth to apologize, or retort, or something, but it comes out as a slurred garble when you feel toji's fat cockhead brush against your cervix.

"uh huhh." he grins smugly, his hand that was interlaced with yours moving down to grip your hip and keep you in place as he quickens his pace slightly. he's being a little gentler than he usually would be just for you, but this is still toji here.

"t-too much!" you cry out, reaching up to grasp onto his bicep above you for some sort of support. your entire body is jolting against the covers in response to his increasingly hard thrusts, your mouth hanging open dumbly.

"nah, dollface," he grunts in protest, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip as if to ground you. "i know y'can take it. doing so damn well f'me."

toji brings his palm up from your hip to slide under your previously bunched up shirt, fondling your breasts and rolling one of your hardened nipples between his fingers.

this makes a loud mewl escape from your throat, your cunt clenching around him in response to the dual sensations. if you thought his tongue made you reach new heights of pleasure, his cock is a completely different beast.

you can already feel something strange stirring in the depths of your stomach. it's not like your previous orgasm, it's unfamiliar — it almost feels like you're about to pee.

"t-toji, feels weird," you slur out, squirming against the covers as you try to hold the rising sensation at bay. "like i'm gonna pee or something. m-maybe y'should pull out."

he barks out a laugh at this, as if he knows something you don't. his hand moves down to pat your stomach, right where the prominent bulge of his cock is moving in and out.

"that means you're gonna squirt, baby." he utters simply, making your eyes widen in surprise. now that's something you've definitely never managed to make yourself do before.

looks like you're gonna be ticking off more than one first from the list today.

"makin' ya squirt for y'er first time," he proclaims cockily, smirking to himself as he effortlessly keeps up the languid rolls of his hips. "i'm damn good, ain't i?"

"i haven't even squirted yet." you grumble, heat flooding to your cheeks in response to his teasing. he's still your annoyingly smug roommate, even when he's fucking you into his mattress.

"key word — yet." toji shrugs in response, his lethal thrusts quickening in pace. his rough palm pushes down right above your bulging tummy, causing you to let out a strangled gasp.

your cunt clenches impossibly tighter around him, your ankles digging into the skin of his back as you feel your second orgasm of the night start to wash over you. "fuck. g-gonna..."

"yeah? c'mon, baby, make a mess all on me." he grunts gruffly, his hand moving down to rub lazy, sloppy circles against your puffy clit, the nub pulsing under his touch.

"tojiiii!" you practically sob, the added stimulation sending you hurling over the edge before you can process it. your vision goes completely white with the intensity of your high, your breaths coming in heavy gasps.

"oh, thattt's it," he hums in satisfaction, lightly patting your pussy as he watches the gushes of clear liquid squirt out, lewdly coating the base of his cock and balls in your essence. "fuckin' good girl."

it only takes him a couple more strokes for toji to know he's close too, and he quickly pulls out, slapping his thick cock against the flushed skin of your tummy and giving it a few final jerks.

as much as he'd love to fill you up, he figures that since you're a virgin, you probably wouldn't be on birth control.

and he's not about take that risk.

toji lets out a low, raspy grunt as he spills his creamy, pearlescent cum all over your stomach, tainting the supple skin with his sticky, oozy mess.

he lazily tugs his boxers and sweatpants back up, wiping some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before leaning down and giving your cheek a quick, wet kiss.

then he saunters out of the room, leaving you panting and limp on his bed while he rifles through your purse on the living room table.

"i would've done that for free, by the way." toji mutters amusedly as he pulls out your credit card, waving it tauntingly in front of his face with the smuggest grin yet stretching at his lips. "see ya in thirty six hours, dollface."

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

i’d like to dedicate my first proper fic to @screampied because her works inspired me to begin writing my own! <3

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[dolicekiss]

Apple Of Their Eye

part two here

PAIRING: Dark! Aegon Targaryen X sister!reader X Dark!Aemond Targaryen

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni) incestuous relationship, dark!targaryen brothers, innocent virgin!reader, dubcon, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, handjob, riding, breeding, threesome, kissing, possessive behaviour, nipple play, throat fucking, drunk reader, praise, pretty much the targaryen brothers giving their sister sex lessons and claiming her as theirs.

SYNOPSIS: Being close to both your Targaryen brothers had its own perks. Drinking wine together, going horse riding and reading books. It was all a dream but when Aegon heard the talk of your betrothal, he decided it was finally time to taint you. What you didn’t expect was Aemond walking in on you indulging in your older brother’s sickly pleasures.

Giggles erupted from your lips when your sweet brother, Aegon made a weird face to encourage sweet giggles out of you. His favorite sound in the world, as he liked to address it. Your bond with both your brothers was something never seen before among house Targaryen. Fiercely loyal to each other, defensive and protective. You were the perfect trio of destruction — well, with a honeyed touch of peace.

That was your vital role.

To calm down the blood of the dragons.

You had grown so attached to one another that both your brothers denied the responsibilities of the throne, wishing to spend time with you.

You had to convince Aegon to sit upon the throne and he agreed in one go when his little sister asked for it. How could he not? You were looking up at him with such hopeful, glimmering eyes, those long lashes of yours coating the apple of your cheeks.

He often wondered if his bridled desires would break out of control one moon and find way to you?

Aemond entered the room, hand resting atop his sword as he analyzed the room, which was in shambles. You and Aegon again had enjoyed a pillow fight — pieces of feathers and cotton everywhere in the room. Pale sheets on the floor and wine spilled everywhere.

He was the youngest, yet he felt as though he was the oldest amongst you three. You and Aegon behaved like little children, even when you were younglings. Aegon and you would disturb the council members and pull hilarious pranks on them meanwhile Aemond paid them no mind.

“You two.” His voice put a hold to your giggles, your attention diverting to your brother. Your silky strands — similar to Aemond’s — were a mess. They reached your hips, only at such a young age and Aemond couldn't keep his one eye off the loose strap of your dress over your creamy shoulder.

Aegon smirked to himself, knowing well him and his brother shared their feelings about you.

You smiled at Aemond, a big grin of excitement adorning your soft, delicate features. “Aemond! Come here, have wine with us.”

He shook his head. “I have duties to tend to, sister. You carry on.”

Your lips formed a frown. “But Aemond, I miss you. You rarely ever spend time with Aegon and I. Do we bore you now, do you seek fun in planning war and those boring councils?”

Aegon nodded in agreement and Aemond shook his head, walking closer and taking a seat on the bed with you. Aegon had his head on your lap, staring at you with love sick eyes of a puppy. Your flushed state and rosette cheeks were a vision for Aemond — his callous hands aching to touch you.

“Aemond how can you neglect our beautiful sister here?” Aegon taunted, reaching out to wrap a finger around a strand of your silver hair and curl it. You smiled at him, cheeks round and Aemond swallowed. “I am not neglecting her, I am merely occupied with tending to my duties since no one else will.”

He diverted his one eye to Aegon and the older brother groaned, tugging on the single strand of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, lips puckering into a pout. “Aegon, stop it.”

“You shouldn't trust Aegon so much, sweet sister. He is all but a twat,” Aemond’s words made you turn to him and he looked away from you, not wanting his gaze to linger somewhere below where he was allowed. His own reluctance at being around you proved that he too struggled with the same demons his older brother did.

Aegon sat up now, eyes boring into Aemond’s. “And why shouldn't she? I pay her more mind, more attention than you ever would.”

“I trust him, brother. You should too, he's our king and he cares for me.” You softly spoke.

Your soft soothing voice was like the sun against their cold words. Aemond pondered late at night how their monstrous house got blessed with such a sweet little thing? Repentance was not something that came to house Targaryen — so why were they bestowed with you?

Your kindness, to the maids — the highborn ladies and even the members of the small council made you quite the perfect candidate for queen, especially when the realm loved and adored you. The sweet daughter of Viserys Targaryen, left behind to bring prosperity and love.

“Yeah, she trusts me.” Aegon said, scooting behind you. His chin nestled over the small cup of your shoulder, staring straight ahead with mischief in his gaze. “Don't you, sweet sister?”

You nodded, coyly.

He was almost taunting Aemond, being able to stay this close to you while he was busy with preparing for war. It was not fair, definitely to Aemond it was not. He inhaled a sharp breath as Aegon buried his face in the crook of your neck, accidentally pressing a kiss to your exposed skin. Your body shuddered and you quickly pulled away from him, staring at him in confusion.

Aemond felt a lump form in his throat.

Fuck, you were so innocent. Oblivious to the sick desires of both your brothers.

“Be careful, sister.” Aemond said to you, gesturing towards the other Targaryen brother. “You're too innocent for your own good.”

Then he got up, parting from your chambers, hoping that the next time he enters, he finds you all alone and not with that foolish brother of his. He did not harbor resentment towards Aegon necessarily, but ever since they were children, they fought. For a dragon, for toys and for your attention. It had been a constant battle of who'd bring you the prettiest flower first, who would be first to dance with you at feasts, who's horse you'd sit on and ride.

For everyone else it was draining but you relished the attention you got from your brothers. Enjoying each and every bit of the fight going on for you — only you didn't knew it went beyond the walls of brotherly love and they were horrifyingly obsessed with you.

Aemond had turned down every marriage alliance, not interested in securing the future of the realm if it came at the expense of being far from you. A woman would only act as a wall between the two of you and Aemond did not want any walls. He would gladly crush them, with or without the help of Vhagar.

You prepared another cup of wine to drink but Aegon was called to the council — arranged by the dowager Queen. Crestfallen, you let your brother go as he fixed his attire and departed from your chambers, after leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead.

As soon as Aegon entered the council room, he's greeted with everyone there. Each member and with a scowl on his face, he takes his seat. Evidently upset by having to leave his sister, even though he could go back to her at anytime.

“Your Grace.” Everyone greeted him, standing up and heads low. Aegon gestured them to sit and they obliged, following into their comfortable seats.

Alicent looked at the council members, knowing that the discussion they had come to would eventually upset the King. Everyone was hesitant and Aegon noticed that. He raised a brow, confused. “Are we here to stare at one another? If we are, do excuse me. I have pressing matters to attend to.”

Everyone knew pressing matters meant giving his undivided attention to his little sister.

“In order to secure house frey and gain access and control to the passage in riverrun, we think it would be best to form a marriage alliance with them.” Alicent’s words didn't actually hit Aegon how they were supposed to, as he grinned. “We cannot offer a dragon, we can offer a dragon.”

Assuming the marriage alliance was for Aemond, his younger brother not his little sister. “Great, it is about time Aemond finds himself a pretty bird too.”

He was cheerful. If Aemond was married, he would have your attention all to himself and he became overjoyed with that, a little too fast. Alicent swallowed, exchanging glances with the master of coin and the maester. Her hesitance was in existence because she did not know how maturely her son would handle to the news of sending his only sister away from him.

“Your Grace, the marriage alliance is for your sister, the Princess. House frey has suitors available and the Princess gets to choose with whom she wishes to ma—”

Aegon’s palms slammed down against the wooden table, rising up from the table. His gaze searing and his lips quivering from the sheer courage of Tyland Lannister’s, to marry his sister off without even inquiring him about it. The fact that they even thought of doing that filled him with a rage so overwhelming, he felt like burning the whole small council to the ground.

“That is my sister you're speaking of.” He reminded them. “I will have your fucking tongue for even suggesting to get her married off in the first place.”

The whole council flinched at the King’s outburst. Alicent had expected it to be a tantrum but this was more than a childish tantrum. The room was elevated with tension as Aegon panted, his body quivering from the rage coursing through his veins.

Alicent took a deep breath. “It is for the best, my King. You need to win this war and the Freys are demanding a dragon which we cannot provide.”

“So you give them my sister, like some fucking piece of coin?” He snapped, turning to her. “She is the princess of house Targaryen, my sister. I will not have you subject her to the same fate as all the other women.”

Aegon dismissed the council, walking out of there. Alicent sighed, holding onto tethered pieces of hope that maybe talking to Aemond about it would be better, since Aegon did consider him his closest blood and best sword. Little did she know she would be riling up another dragon and awakening it.

The next few hours were unbearable for Aegon. He had visited your chambers but you were nowhere to be found and when he asked your maids, he was told you'd gone out to collect flowers for the vase in your room. Countless times both your brothers had told you to either tell them or command the servants to bring you flowers — still you did what you felt.

Upon your return, you found your chambers not deserted. Aegon was there, situated on your bed. Hair a mess, tunic unbuttoned revealing his pale chest. Your brother was disheveled and you couldn't recall the time you two spent together being the cause of this.

So what had happened?

Worried and upset, you dropped the basket filled with flowers by the side of your door and walked over to him. Your purple dress, a match to your purple eyes, flowing behind like the waves of the sea. You sat next to your brother, small hands reaching out to cup his face in them.

“Brother, is everything alright? You seem upset.” You inquired and when Aegon raised his head, you saw just how devasted he appeared.

Devasted and drunk.

Your eyes noticed the cup in his hand, as well as the pitcher on the floor. Something happened at the small council, that much you figured out. But what had happened, now that was for Aegon to tell you.

Though your brother only stared at you, bringing the cup to your lips. “Drink, for me.”

You were in no mood for wine but you still obliged him, parting your lips and consuming the wine. The crimson tainting your lips red as you swallowed it, gulp after gulp. Even for you that was a lot and when you were finished, Aegon refilled the empty cup.

“Drink more.” It was a command.

You frowned. “Did I do something wrong, brother? Is this your way of reprimanding me?”

He stared at you, eyes droopy and full of glimmering lust for you — unbeknownst to you. “I want us to be drunk together, like old times. Please.”

You heard the plea in his voice and nodded, softening at the disheveled state your brother was in. You parted your lips to take sips as Aegon held the cup for you. He pushed it, more and more until the wine had overwhelmed you and drops spilled over your dress, trailing down your chin.

The red had absorbed into the purple but you finished your glass, staring at Aegon after the glass had been tore from your lips.

Aegon moved further into your soft bed, veiled by pellucid pale curtain and you followed, laying next to him. His head found comfort on your chest, a frown so evidently ceasing his features. Confusion had clouded your senses — hoping that your brother might tell you the cause of his distress.

But all he did was lay silently on your chest, feeling the soft plush of your breasts against his cheek.

Aegon swallowed the urge to press his mouth over your pebbles and suck them, burying his face deeper into your breasts. He was a mess and he knew that his mother would go against him, to secure more power and alliances with the other lords.

He could not let it happen.

He mouthed lazily at the chiffon, attempting to take a nipple of yours into his mouth. The purple fabric absorbed the saturation of his saliva, as your brother crossed all the limits between the two of you.

As if there were any to begin with.

“A-Aegon, what are you doing?” You whispered in a breathy gasp when he sucked on your peaked nipple through the cotton, his other hand moving to provide your other breast with attention.

Your back arched slightly and your breath quickened as your brother’s hands moved down to the laces which held your dress together. As drunk as you were, you still knew this was wrong yet had no control whatsoever of the situation. Once your laces were loosened enough, Aegon tugged at the sleeve of your dress and unveiled your breast.

“Brother, this is inappropriate. You're under the influence of wine, we should not—”

Aegon looked up at you with the softest look on his face, akin to a puppy. He switched his attention to the unattended breast of yours which he had uncovered, suckling on the nipple, fingers rolling the soaked one in between them. Your soft lips were parted and made the prettiest little sounds of pleasure foreign to you.

“I'm your brother, sister. If I don't deserve to have you like this when who does? Those fucking house frey suitors?” He snapped, voice fallen to a few octaves. Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, not being able to understand what he was insinuating with his words.

Your brows scrunched and your crinkles formed on your nose. “H-House frey, Aegon?”

He chose silence.

Aegon moved to lean up against the bed, his unbuttoned tunic revealing his bare chest beneath his small clothes. You watched him, your silver hair a mess — cascading beautifully down your shoulders and narrow back. Aegon patted his lap, a silent order for you to sit on it but you could only blink innocently.

Having no regards of such matters.

“Crawl to me, sister.”

You nodded, as puzzled as you were, slithering to settle yourself over your brother's lap. Both hands on his chest as your thighs sat over each side of his waist, looking down at him. This was all new to you but you were not complaining.

His hand extended to grasp your chin, pulling your face closer to him. He could see everything, all the subtle features which made you all the more beautiful. The mole neath your left eye, the way your pupils enlarged whenever you locked eyes with him, how your pretty lips quivered. “Today I will teach you how to make your brothers the happiest. You wish to learn, don't you sister?”

You eagerly nodded.

Aegon grinned. “Kiss me, my little dove.”

You obliged, pressing a kiss to his cheek and Aegon released a chuckle. In complete awe of the naivety you possessed. “Here, sister. This will make me and Aemond the happiest.”

You were hesitant with it but still leaned your head, pressing a subtle, feather light kiss to Aegon’s lips. His hunger was far from satiated as he stared at you with a hooded gaze, his blood heating up at the feel of your lips against his. He was over the moon with only a peck, he could only imagine the power of a proper liplock.

“Did I do good? Was that okay, brother?”

Aegon shook his head. “No, little dove. You have to do more, kiss more of my lips. Try to suck on them, yeah?”

You puffed out your cheeks, irritated at your own incompetence at making your brother happy. Still, you kissed him once more but this time like a baby bird trying to eat it's food with untrained beaks, you tried to suck on Aegon’s lips. Closing them around his upper lip, your saliva glossing his lips. Aegon’s cock stirred awake in his breeches at how inexperienced you truly were. An innocent girl getting ruined by her brother.

You closed your eyes, focusing at the task at hand. Aegon reached for your nape, locking it in place as he finally kissed you back. Soft kiss of yours evolved into something harsher, something more passionate and you whimpered, your endeavor to retreat declined by your brother. Your small hands nestled over his chest — trying to push him but it only strengthened the kiss, Aegon trying to drown in the sweet nectar.

“Open your mouth, little dove.” Your endeavor to speak was mistaken as consent by your brother, his tongue running over the edge of your perfect teeth — making way to your tongue. He wrapped around the wet muscle and began to suck on it, the saliva dripping from your mouth and slipping into his. Light headed you had become due to the vigorous kiss and how your brother dominated your mouth with his tongue.

Aegon soon broke the kiss and allowed you a few moments of air, staring at how swollen your lips had become. He had tasted you and it only fuelled his desire more for you. To claim you and never let anyone else's sight fall upon you. Heart fluttering at being the first man ever to put his cock inside you.

“This is what good sisters do for their brothers.” He said to you, his hands rested on your thighs and thumbs swiping across the pale skin. “You're such a good girl, my Princess. You'd do anything for your King, won't you?”

You nodded your head impatiently, doe eyes looking into your brother's purple ones. Chest falling and rising, sharp intakes of breath breaking through the silence. Aegon smiled and that was the biggest achievement for you, ever. He lifted one hand from your thigh, taking your small hand into his. Aegon loved how your petite hand disappeared into his — a perfect size you were for him.

He wondered in that very moment how you'd look taking Aemond’s cock into your small mouth, considering he was bigger than the both of you. Taller, toned from the constant training of wielding a sword. The thought of both of them taking you at once riled him up like nothing else.

Aegon brought your hand to his crotch, laying it over it. Your coy eyes widened. “B-Brother.”

“Unlace my trousers, sister.” Albeit it was an order, his tone was soft. You had never seen such a dark look in your sweet brother's eyes, violets always glimmering with excitement and happiness.

You were hesitant at first, reluctance dripping from the way your shivering fingers pulled at the soft laces which tightened his trousers. Aegon watched with a curious gaze, knowing very well he was about to defile his little sister and ruin the innocence she so wholeheartedly showcased. It almost made him sad but this was necessary, to wed you to him. Or even Aemond.

He couldn't care less who you married as long as it was one of them.

With bated breath, you loosened his trousers and then looked at him for further instructions.

“Pull out my cock, sister. You should feel something hard, that is my cock.” Your silver lashes fluttered, fingers getting to work. The second you felt something hard, skin but rigid — you grasped it to free it. Aegon hissed upon your cold touch and you retreated, feeling bad.

He was quick to reach for you. “No, no. Do not worry, for I am fine. You shall continue.”

So you did, given the reassurance, your gaze focusing on the unclothed cock of your sweet brother. Aegon reached for your hand and wrapped it around his own cock with your neath it. “I need you to move your hand, sister. Pursue my actions, this will truly please me.”

Aegon began to move his hand in slow, sensual strokes and you followed. The more you touched him, the more he lost his composure. Little sounds falling from his parted lips and his hand fell to the side over his thigh — letting you take the lead. You picked up your pace, hand undulating over his throbbing length.

Palm stained with his precum, you used it to slick his twitching cock and then moved your fingers up. A shuddered gasp of fulfillment slipping from Aegon’s mouth upon that accident. You smiled, in victory and pressed the pad of your thumb deeper into his little hole. Watching as more of the pale liquid spurted out.

The more you stared at it, the prettier you found it — shade darker than the rest of him and cock head the same pink as his agape lips. Varicose veins, a deeper hue of purple than the ones of your irises embedded in neath the flesh.

Eyes sparkling at the thought of touching Aemond in the same way, getting to see such an intimate part of him. You wished he was here, to be able to do this for him would be a great blessing.

Your mouth watered the more you gazed at your brother's glistening cock head. Without paying much mind to it, you leaned lower and closed your lips around it. Aegon’s eyes immediately snapped open when he felt the warmth your mouth provided and stared down at you.

“Oh, Gods.” He groaned, almost a whine. “Who taught you this, my sister? Have you engaged in such acts before?”

You quickly backed away, shaking your head with a guilt ridden face. “No, Aegon. I am so very sorry if this was something I was not supposed to do. I promise I have never done this before, I promise. I swea—”

“Hey,” Aegon whispered, caressing your face with his large hand. “I believe you. You see I do not wish for you to get involved like this with someone else. It is only right if you do it with me, and Aemond.”

You nodded your head understandingly. “I would love for you to continue, my little dove but right now I need something more. Could you give it to me, my sweet girl?”

“Yes, brother. Anything my King wants.” You smiled, lips shimmering with his residual and Aegon’s cock twitched.

He pulled you on his lap once more, hands on your waist. Then the pair dropped lower to your bare thighs and Aegon bunched up your dress, revealing your unclothed, bare pink cunt. You were never too fond of wearing small clothes under your dresses — summer of Westeros unbearable for a delicate thing like you.

He licked his lips deliciously.

“Just as you touched me, I have the full right to touch you too. You understand?” You nodded like an obedient student, stomach churning in anticipation for your brother's next move.

Aegon pulled you closer rather harshly by your thighs and your shoulders went slumped, feeling his head brush against your pearl. Your eyes widening at the electrifying contact. “I need to do this in order to make my cock fit inside you, so be a good girl and let me, okay?”

“Yes, brother.” You whispered, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Aegon’s fingers moved to your cunt, running in the center of your soaked folds. He found it amusing how you had no idea of the pleasures taken between a man and a woman yet your body had reacted like this, cunt drenched and wet. He knew your maidenhead was still intact, after all he rarely ever let you be in the presence of someone else.

If Aegon was occupied, it would be Aemond who would linger around you like a new born shadow.

They knew how innocent you were, how fucking naive and monsters lurked in the red keep. You needed their protection more than the people of the realm. Careless they were about the iron throne, Aegon wished to fuck you on it before properly ascending it.

“Oh.” Your eyes slightly rolled back at the way your brother caressed your folds, pinching your pink pearl. “You've got such a beautiful cunt, my sister. I am sure you will put it to good use to make your brothers happy, won't you, little dove?”

Eager you were to please them.

They had brought you everything, anything your heart had ever desired. Allowed you to ride their dragons with them, brought you the most beautiful gifts from the north and drowned you in lannister gold. Both brothers even went as far as getting you jewelry from Dorne since Aemond caught you complimenting a dornish necklace.

Aemon’s thumb prodded at your bud, swirling it around, watching how your face contorted in pleasure. Lids fluttering shut and head thrown back, fingernails digging into your brother's chest. You were a fucking sight, all disheveled. With his other hand, he entered a finger into you and your pleasure-clad face evolved into one of pain.

“Ow,” you complained at the sting of being stretched out. “Aegon, that hurts.”

“I know, my Princess but you mustn't rush. I will bring you pleasure soon, it is a promise.”

You believed him, waiting out the sting as Aegon fully sunk his finger into you. Driving it in and out of you, all the while rubbing your swollen attention seeking bud. Your expressions were the prettiest, the most breathtaking and he questioned himself why did he not do this earlier?

Just what was stopping him back?

He was the fucking King, goddamnit. He could have you whenever he wanted and you would give yourself up to him, everytime. Just like right now how you were serving yourself up to him on a silver platter like those animals during feasts.

“Brother, oh my god. This feels weird, I feel weird.” You whimpered, hips moving on their own accord over your brother's fingers and Aegon licked his lips, furthermore sinking his canines into his lower lip.

Aegon added another without warning and you whined out, a loud one which made him reach over and press his palm over your lips, sealing them shut. “As much as I absolutely adore your sounds, we should not let anyone find out.”

You nodded, and Aegon removed his hand, letting you breathe. You decided to keep it blow but everytime Aegon would move his finger inside you and you would feel it run at your gummy unclaimed walls, little whimpers would escape you. Feeling his fingers curve up and rotate, hitting into a spongy spot of which’s existence you too were unaware of, you cried out.

Aegon smiled.

That was enough preparing.

Aegon pulled out and you gasped when he brought his lips to his mouth, sucking on your sweet arousal.

He wanted to take you on your back but that was how he took his whores. He would never let them sit on top of his thighs and look at him like this — all dolled up yet disheveled. You were his sister, the apple of his fucking eye and Aegon was not going to take you like some whores.

They existed to keep his sick desires for you at bay, but he knew after this, he would not be needing them anymore.

“This is going to hurt, sister but worry not, I assure you I am right here. It shall feel better soon, just like with my fingers.” His comforting words and soft tone helped with your trepidation — allowing your brother to raise your hips and align his cock with your drenched hole.

Aegon allowed you to sink down on him and when his head breached your entrance, a sting worse than before spread like a virus, consuming your whole being. Your eyes welled up with tears and your lips quivered, a brusque tremor awakening in your petite hands. He was quick to come to your rescue, holding both your hands and leading the pair to his nape, making you latch onto him for support.

“Here, hold me. As tight as you can, my little dove and carefully slide down. Be careful and gentle, alright? No rush here.” He continuously comforted, guiding you and you nodded, inhaling a deep and brief breath.

Then you sunk more, his girth expanding your hole. Little movement and reassuring words from your brother helped you take the entirety of his cock and when your ass finally met his thighs, Aegon groaned. You felt his cock twitch inside you and your hold around his nape tightened. The pain was throbbing and hot — consuming your whole being but the fact you were so full with your brother's cock, contempt, you let out a drunk giggle.

Short on breath but still, you smiled at Aegon.

While you two descended deeper into forbidden pleasures, Aemond had gotten free time to come see you.

After intense sword training and back and forth of sharing strategies of the war with Ser Criston Cole, Aemond had found his feet switching route — bringing you to the hallway where your chambers were located. As he walked, with each step, he felt extreme excitement build up in his stomach. Finally having enough time to spare you a visit and get drunk, bask in your presence.

He hoped that Aegon would not be there as he wanted you all to himself, especially for tonight.

Upon opening the door to your chambers, the view before him left him astonished and there were rarely many things that left Aemond Targaryen astonished. He was quick to close the doors, not wishing for anyone to come across the Princess’ bed chambers and witness such sin.

His hands formed into fists — how you sat on top of Aegon, hips oscillating in a sensual manner. Too sensual for someone as innocent as you and he knew Aegon had managed to ruin and defile the only pure thing about house Targaryen. Yet fucking again. You two were so indulged and far gone in your pleasures that Aemond’s presence was barely noticed.

But then Aegon caught his brother's tall figure by the door.

“Oh brother, welcome.” He called out, although it was more of a moan and you turned to look at Aemond.

Your cunt tightened at Aegon when gaze laid over your brother, the one you missed the most since he barely had time to spare. Aegon let out a hoarse chuckle, shaking his head at his brother. “You will not fucking believe it but our sister's cunt became more tight upon seeing you.”

Aemond’s teeth gritted. “Mittys, that is our sister.” (Fool)

“Do not pretend as if you have not wished to do this more than I have.” He voiced it out, hand pressing into your waist. You whimpered as Aegon made you move on his cock and by now the pain had subsided, pleasure coming in to take control. You began to roll your hips over his thighs, eyes locked with Aemond.

You needed him too, your eyes screamed for him to come closer and as if you had telepathically communicated, Aemond sauntered towards the bed.

You whined when Aegon pushed his hips up, breaching furthermore of your cunt. “Aemond.”

Aegon was inside you but you were moaning for Aemond and the older brother did not even find it upsetting. Rather his cock hardened even more — if possible, hearing you whine and ache for your younger brother with such need. He did not mind sharing you with Aemond, as long as he could have his fill of you too.

“A-Aegon said I could make you both happier like this. I want to, I love you. You're my brothers.” You expressed your profound love for them, nodding your head as Aemond slipped of his leather gloves. He tossed them aside and reached for your hair, taking a strand and curling it around his finger. His nose catching a whiff of the perfumes and oils you were basking in, yet the natural scent of roses was enough to drive him fucking crazy.

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your bare shoulder. Eye following the stretch mark trailing down to your breasts and the stretched flesh made him realize that you had grown. You were not a little girl anymore but you were still their little sister. Your rosy nipples were peaked — demanding attention and Aemond hissed.

His own cock bulging against his leather slacks and Aegon saw it.

Aegon moved inside you, thrusting up and you lost composure. Lips breaking apart to let out the most feminine sounds, silver strands glued on a perspired forehead as Aemond watched you bounce on his brother's cock with vigor. Your fingernails had dug into Aegon’s nape and tears sat beautifully like pearls in your waterline.

It was evident that you were sensitive, nothing like the common whores.

“Does she not look fucking beautiful, bouncing on her big brother's cock like that?”

Aemond wanted to punch Aegon but he was not wrong. You did look celestial, out of this world with how you bounced up and down on his cock, trying to desperately please him.

Aegon rolled his eyes at Aemond. “Are you only going to just watch? I have taught her things, with her hand and mouth. Be a dear and show him, sister.”

Like a trained puppy, you were quick to oblige, hands extended to work gracefully over Aemond’s leather slacks. You undid them, pulling at the leather and he watched how eager and desperate you were. Hands moving with a significant tremor.

“Aemond,” he raised his eye from your hands to your face. “may I please have you in my mouth?”

If the offer had crawled to him on its fucking fours with the most precious doe eyes, who was he to deny? He, too was a man at the end and had perpetually craved you the same as Aegon. Only he was subtle with his desires.

“Yes, my sweet sister.” Aemond whispered, staring at you. His consent made you flourish like the moonlight, bright and glowing right in his face.

Aegon decided it would be better to switch positions and he pulled out, bringing you on all your fours and giving space to Aemond against the bed headboard. He shifted, sprawled out before you, leather slacks and small clothes long gone. In the process, Aegon had stripped himself bare too but the brothers wanted you to not remove the dress.

Just how easily they had access to you despite the dress, it enticed them.

With Aemond’s cock in your hand, you came to a conclusion that his was the prettiest. It was longer than Aegon’s but had almost the same girth. Protruding veins embedded inside the pale skin, his balls hot and throbbing with an ache. You looked up at him and smiled and all Aemond could do was return it and fucking melt.

“Aemond, remove your eye patch. I want to see you whole.” You voiced out your desires and he reached for the eye patch, sliding it off and tossing it aside. The sapphire sparkled like crazy in his eye and you had always found it to be the most coolest and breathtaking thing about Aemond.

Having less of a part than the others did not make him less human too.

Though he appeared more like a god. The fire from the fireplace casting a soft golden glow over both brothers, leaving them heated with pent up desires.

Aegon had already pummeled his cock back into you, not after witnessing the blood staining his length. Testament of your chasity staining him fully and his wanton for you only grew more. You pressed a little kiss to Aemond’s tip — watching him with your deer like purple eyes and he hissed, hand moving to interview with your silver strands.

Eventually you wrapped your lips around his head, slowly taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth while using your hand to stroke the rest which failed to fit. All while Aegon drove himself deeper inside your sweet, innocent cunt, drawing pathetic little whines out of you.

Aemond groaned, fingers tightening around your roots when the vibrations from your moans sent waves of electricity straight into his loins. You choked when he breached your throat, sputtering around him. Drool and cum glistening around your mouth. Your younger brother sighed pleasure, primary focus of his one eye.

“Messy little girl,” he taunted, the fluids dripping from your chin.

Aegon nestled his cock over and over into your sweet spot, urging you to reach your peak and unravel. “L-Look at her. So fucking obedient and pliant. I want to watch her stomach swell up with my babe. That way mother won't try to marry her off to someone else, some fucking riverrun lord.”

Aemond’s attention snapped to his brother's words, and Aegon only nodded. Letting him know that they were close to losing their sister but not anymore. The sweet dove was tainted, used and claimed. Even if their mother tried to marry her off, she was already tainted by her brothers and no lord would want her. That pleased both Aemond and Aegon.

“Gods, what a blessing you are.” Aemond praised you, highly, palm pressing deeper on your head, encouraging you to take him deeper and you did. His head sliding into the confines of your tight, wet throat. “Perfect little girl, a cocksleeve.”

With each thrust from Aegon, your body moved forward against Aemond’s. A sweaty mess of pleasure and bodied you three were but that did not matter. Aegon felt his peak near, tethering onto it and soon he finished inside you after delivering harsh, potent stutters of hips into you. Your cunt tightened, sucking him in, like a vice.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Like that, little dove, take me in, all of me. Milk me fucking dry, let me breed you so you carry my silver haired children.”

Aemond didn't mind his brother having you first and defiling you, since he pretty sure had your throat first. You were theirs and that's all that mattered. Gagging sounds reverberated in the room along with strong sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your peak danced around too, and when Aemond fucked his cock harshly into your throat, you squeezed around Aegon’s cock and came all over. Tears splurging out, making a mess on your face.

Your whole body twitching from the intense climax. Thighs shaking and sensitivity heightened. Followed by your release, Aemond pursued. Release spurts of white into your mouth, spending fully inside you. Yet he did not unhand you, holding your head in place to fuck his hot load into your mouth.

Once he was done, he pulled out and grasped your chin, peeking inside. “Swallow it whole, Princess.”

And you did. Gulping down the remnants of his spend.

Your head, tired from being in one position, laid right on Aemond’s bare thigh. Aegon was still inside you and when he pulled out, he saw your gaping hole spurt out his white residual. Parts that failed to reach your womb but it did not matter. He would breed you over and over again until you were to end up with his child.

Or Aemond’s.

As long as it was a silver haired babe.

“A-Are you happy now?” You asked, a question for both of your brothers and Aemond nodded his head, running his slim fingers in your hair.

Aegon crawled upto you, laying next to Aemond. A subtle smile playing at his lips, eyes hooded and body weary from all the hard work. “Very happy, little dove. We could not have asked for a better sister.”

Your pale flushed skin reddened as Aemond moved you, bringing you closer to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. Aegon admired the two of you, pleased with the fucked up dynamics of his family. This was a pleasure he could not have found or ever would find in the bed of a whore. You were the apple of their eye and they could not let you go, even if it meant restoring to such methods.

Your hands cupped your younger brother's face, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

Aemond had expected it to be a gentle peck but it grew needy and hasty, exactly how Aegon had taught you. Your lips suckling on his like a babe, trying to pry his mouth open and meet your tongue with his. You seemed addicted, desperate to kiss your younger brother the same way you had kissed your older. The kiss grew heated as Aemond opened his lips, finally taking control and dominating your mouth.

You whimpered, and Aemond could taste the residual of his orgasm. It did not phase him as he continued relishing in the sweet kiss, feeling your cunt beginning to rut against his already hardening cock.

When you broke the kiss, Aemond admired you before shifting his attention to Aegon who had a nasty grin on his face. “You're responsible for this.”

“Proudly. Only had to teach her once and look at how she's already sucking on your lips like it's a fucking cock.” He cheered, reaching over to pinch your cheeks. You giggled and hugged your younger brother, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

The three of you did not leave your chambers that night while the whole of red keep searched endlessly for the sword, the King and the maiden.

[euthymiya]

Thoughts on pervert ayato please………:

dear wife, dear husband ft. kamisato ayato

synopsis: your husband is doting, regardless of whether your marriage is one of duty or of love. but unbeknownst to you, ayato craves you much more than you might have initially believed him to

contains: 3.1k word count ; fem reader ; arranged marriages ; reader has parents and is of a respected clan ; reader is described as quiet, shy, obedient, and pliant ; reader is also described to have a mole on her chest ; male masturbation ; panty (and clothes in general) thief ayato ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; implied cunnilingus + fingering + nipple play ; make no mistake: ayato is perverted but he’s still madly in love

Ayato is a man of reputation, of class. He holds certain status and sophistication that he’s fought tooth and nail to keep perfectly intact for the Kamisato clan ever since his parents passed away.

It started since he was young, when people expected him to behave messy. What they saw was a simple, inexperienced, uninformed, and ill-suited young man who’s been handed the mantle. It was too big a responsibility for a boy his age to take, being the clan head—too ruthless and unforgiving of a position. They thought him too naive, too easy to crush.

So, of course, he has to keep his image up to standards.

He doesn’t let himself be seen with a woman for years. Scandalous habits are hardly favorable for forming ties, and the Kamisato clan could certainly use at least a few allies. A young Ayato was not opposed to a marriage of convenience, either, if that’s what it would have taken to secure his clan’s former glory. More importantly, doesn’t trust too many people. Sleeping around makes him open, vulnerable, less susceptible to seeing through deception and any attempts at sabotaging him from within.

So he stays alone for many, many years. He does just fine that way—but underneath it all, he’s less than proper. He’s starved. Starved of touch, of intimacy, of a raw, carnal desire that a man can only stave off for so long. It develops into something far too insatiable to be normal. At first, he’s a bit ashamed of it. A man of his prestige, of his reputation shouldn’t be so…shameless in his own mind.

Later, he accepts it. It’s only natural, he tells himself.

Then he marries you—and, of course, it is that marriage of convenience he’d resigned himself to years ago. It happens later than he thought, but it happens all the same. He specifically chose you, too.

You’re not like other women. You’re quiet, pliant and obedient under your father’s watchful gaze. Your father tells you to sit beside him, and you do. So sweet and dependent on that guiding figure to tell you what to do. You’ve been trained so well, so wonderfully to do what you’re expected to do.

Ayato raises Ayaka to be free. People have much to say about it, of course. His sister is a precious jewel among the clan, and he can’t fathom caging her like a bird, can’t imagine keeping her sweet chirps locked away from the sky to hear. But you, you’re far too beautiful to risk. The sky is dangerous, and the world is too.

He appreciates your obedience. Revels in it.

It’s a slow progression, really. You’re wedding is a quiet affair, and apart from it being a known fact across Inazuma that your clans are to join, there is not a lot of flashiness regarding the actual ceremony.

Ayato is, of course, ever the doting husband regardless of marriage by love or by duty. He gifts you well—two beautiful pieces of jewelry from his family’s collection. His mother’s ring and his grandmother’s necklace. Expensive attire for the wedding itself that doesn’t seem to phase you. (Your father spoiled you well, he notes. He’ll have to keep up to those standards).

The first night, as a dutiful wife should, you offer yourself up to him. Kneel in front of his legs as he’s sat on the bed, slowly pushing your kimono down your shoulders, revealing more and more skin. There’s a mole on your chest—it reminds him of his own by his lip. Celestia, he thinks, must have written you as his from birth. Even the marks on your skin suggest it.

He could burst in his pants at the thought alone.

But he’s kind. Respectful as he’s always appeared. He gently reaches over and traces your cheek with a delicate finger, chuckling as he murmurs, “there is time for that once we’ve become better acquainted, don’t you think, dear wife?”

“I am happy to complete the marriage whenever you please, my lord,” you reply. So sweet. So polite. So good.

“Ayato,” he corrects, “call my Ayato.”

“As you wish,” you nod.

That night, when you sleep peacefully on your side of the bed, he fucks his fist in the bathroom, flashes of his mothers ring on your finger and his grandmother’s necklace around your neck pushing him to his climax. He suppresses the sounds he wishes he didn’t have to hide, one hand clasping over his mouth as the other squeezes around his aching, pulsing cock. His cum paints the floor, the last drops dribbling onto the tile as he shudders, thinking about the beautiful mole on your chest.

It’s wasted release, he thinks regretfully when he’s done, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at his mess. It would have looked so beautiful on your face, across those breasts he didn’t get to see tonight, perhaps even down your throat.

The latter makes his cock twitch again. He groans, feeling himself harden in his hand once more. His sweet, unsuspecting wife. So kind as to give up the left side of the bed for him because that is what he’s used to, even if it’s her habitual side as well. His precious, angelic wife, who gets along so well with his darling sister after only a few brief meetings.

He should feel bad, doing such filthy things at the thought of such innocence. But he can’t help it. The drag of his palm across his cock is not the same as before, not when thoughts of you heighten the pleasure so much.

He chokes, gripping the edge of the sink as he stands, hot, heavy breaths that are labored escaping his lips as he feels his second orgasm approach.

And then the knock is on the door. A quiet, “my lor—Ayato? Is everything alright?”

You’re outside the door. Every fiber of him aches to slam the door open and take you against this sink right now. Watch your breasts spill over the neckline of that nightgown he gifted you, decorated by the necklace hanging over them around your neck. He’d watch your face twist through the mirror, watching his thick, hard cock fuck in and out of your slick hole.

Would your pussy greedily suck him in? Would be witness the puffiness of your clit? Would the slick of your cunt drip along your thighs? Surely, you’d be just as fascinated by the sight of his glistening length bullying in and out of your walls.

So filthy. So messy. So dirty. Yet, in his mind, so perfectly beautiful.

But he doesn’t let himself have that, not yet. He can’t taint you so quickly, not when you think so highly of him.

“I’m fine,” he pants, eyes fluttering shut as he bites his lips and suppresses a grunt.

“Are you sure? You sound hoarse.”

He does end up groaning at that—at your concern and your precious little voice. The sound of you makes his cock do that familiar twitch before he’s tense and still, the shocks of an even more devastating orgasm coursing through ever nerve of his body. He lets out a desperate grunt, hissing as his palm drags along his sensitive length, so sticky and coated with hot cum.

“I’m…I’m fine,” he pants, voice strained, “I believe I’ve just unfortunately become ill with food poisoning. Perhaps I got too carried away at the wedding.”

You hum in concern through the door, murmuring a soft, “shall I fetch someone? Thoma perhaps, if you don’t want me to see you like this?”

He smiles. So thoughtful, so sincere. You’re too bright for this dark, cruel world. For a filthy, disgusting man like him. He doesn’t even know you, hasn’t even taken the opportunity to learn of your interests or your goals, yet here he is. Dreaming of spreading your folds open and getting an eye full of them.

He chuckles, breathy and tired as he stares down at the cum coating his hands. Oh, if that door wasn’t separating the two of you, he’d smear the remnants of his pleasure across your beautiful lips. The same ones where such gentle words spill from.

“No, it’s alright,” he replies. “Give me but a moment, I’ll be out. My wife will be sufficient enough. No need to disturb Thoma.”

“Oh,” you breathe. He can imagine the slightly shy look on your face perfectly. Picture it clearly. It almost makes him want to stroke himself a third time—but he retires for the night, quickly cleaning himself and the floor off before opening the door and facing you.

You’re concerned the moment he steps out, a warm hand rushing to press against his cheek and then forehead, feeling his temperature as you gasp, “oh you’re heating up! And your skin is flushed. Come lay down.”

He enjoys the way you dote on him that night. Pressing cool rags to his forehead, brushing hair from his face, spoon feeding him the soup you asked a maid to make.

He enjoys it. He enjoys you. He turns that night when you finally lay beside him, tucked under the sheets, reaching over to grab your hand and give it a lingering kiss right where his mother’s ring lays.

“Thank you, my beloved wife,” he says softly, “I am, what seems, the luckiest man in all of Inazuma. Such a doting spouse to have graced me.”

“Oh, you mustn’t make me sound like such a saint,” you say bashfully, “I’ve only done the bare minimum.”

“Then I shall be the most spoiled man, too,” he hums, “if this is considered the minimum.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand that night, sleeping with your fingers entwined.

When he wakes up, there’s a familiar ache between his legs, the morning air cold against your warm bodies. He rises, strokes your cheek gently and smiles before he heads to the bathroom.

The sound of the running water from his shower drowns out the pleased sounds he makes as he fists his cock once more.

It’s a slow, slow build up over the first few months of your marriage. Ayato dotes on you with thoughtful presents and honeyed words. You reciprocate with tender care as you look after him.

You bring him tea when he’s at his desk too long. You brush his hair and tie it back when he complains of headaches. You ice his sore calluses after long days of sword training with Ayaka.

He craves your touch. Uses every excuse to find it, remembers every detail of it to help him release the pent up tension in his body in secrecy.

He fucks his fist to you more times than he can count. Sometimes, he steals something of yours. The robes you wore the night before. The panties in the laundry pile. Once, even just the handkerchief you used to wipe your sweat on the walk you both took together.

Anything that reminds him of you, that might smell like you. He clutches it one hand, stroking himself with the other. Always when you’re not around, always without you to know of his lewdness to even your most mundane actions.

He finally breaks the night you bear yourself to him.

It’s a long night of paperwork. Ayato is tired. Extra stressed from the tricommission duties he’s stuck. The shogun herself will be making an appearance to this event, and Ayato has worked himself to the bone preparing.

You don’t see him as often as either of you would like. By now, it’s evident you’re as fond of him as he is of you. He took careful consideration to make sure you see him in such a positive light. Your sweet, respectful husband. Your dependable, generous husband. He’s so gentle with you, so patient and kind and takes such great care of you.

You’re endeared by him. So much so, that this particular night alone makes you restless.

He can tell as soon as he walks in.

“There you are,” you breathe, “I was just debating checking on you.”

“You’re still awake,” he says in surprise. He slowly undresses himself—by now, you’re used to a shirtless Ayato in bed. You often lay on his bare chest, trace careful shapes into the surface of his skin if your lucky.

On some nights, you connect his moles. He fights the strain in his boxers when that happens.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say shyly, “not without you. I’m afraid…I’m afraid I’ve grown too used to your warmth.”

“Is that right?” He chuckles, eyes crinkling fondly. “How inconsiderate of me. A dutiful husband should never abandon his precious wife alone in bed, especially not cold without the presence of his warmth to shield her from such harsh coldness.”

“Oh don’t be silly,” you giggle, waving him off. So enamored by him—he can see it in your eyes. Such light and brightness reserved only for him.

You think so highly of him. If only you knew his true nature.

He climbs into bed, moving to pull you close against his side when you stop him—he pauses when he notices the hesitance in your eyes as you swallow thickly.

“What’s wrong?” He frowns, “if I’ve upset you, there is no need to feel guilty about sharing your concerns. I shall make sure to never—”

“It’s not that,” you breathe, “it’s…I just…”

“What is it?” He asks kindly.

You can’t seem to get the words right, mulling over them for a moment before sighing and deciding to forego the words altogether.

Your lips are on his before he can comprehend. Your hands tug him close, pulling him to hover over you as his eyes widen. He melts into the kiss, of course, but not without the shock.

“Please, Ayato,” you breathe, “I’ve waited enough. Make me yours.”

Oh. Oh, how you should have thought over your words—because you could you insinuate you’re not already his? You belonged to him, him alone in his mind as soon as the first day he saw you. Since that day you sat so close to your father, shy and meek and nervous to be in his presence.

You are his—and now is his perfect opportunity to teach you that.

“If…” you speak, breaking him from his thoughts, “if you’d like to, at least. I am more than willing to wait longer if—”

“Oh my dear, precious wife,” he chuckles, “have you not the slightest idea how much I crave you? How ardently I desire every part of you?”

The night it all snaps. His desires, his needs, his purely, filthy carnal instinct.

He takes you over and over. Tastes you, first before he feels you with his fingers. Inspects you carefully, spreading your folds and looking into the slick walls of your tight hole. He ogles your breasts for the first time, too—takes his time to kiss from the jewel from the necklace he gave you around your neck to that mole he saw that first day, all the way to your pebbles nipples. He kisses and sucks at them for far longer than you can handle—finally breaking away when you whine at him to please, please put it in, Ayato.

His cock is painful by then. Rock hard between his legs, strained against his boxers from his still clothed crotch. He doesn’t even take them off properly, simply tugs them down enough to reveal himself to you, slapping against his abs with a drooling tip of pre cum.

Hard. Red. Swollen. But still so beautiful in that way Ayato always is.

His cock nudges past your folds, but not before he drags his tip along your slit to collect the slick dripping from your soaked cunt. Not to tease you, but simply to be coated in you. Simply to have your mess on him. Simply to feel every part of you mix with every part of him.

“Do you love me, my dear wife?” He asks you in between thrusts, nudging the fat tip of his cock against your sweet spot perfectly.

“Yes,” you wail, “yes, yes. I love you. Love you, Yato.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him by a nickname. He smiles wide, pearly white teeth that glint sharp and predatory.

“Will you always love me? Do you promise to never stop?”

“Y-yes,” you moan, whimpering when his thumb catches over your clit. A jewel crowning your body, he thinks, as he stares at it. So beautiful, so rare.

“Then shall I confess something?” He murmurs into your skin, pecking along your breasts until he kisses that mole he’s sure was made to match his own.

He could cum at the sight of it alone—he holds off just for you, though. For what is a doting husband if he does not wait until his beloved wife as felt the thralls of pleasure before himself?

“C-confess?” You furrow your brows, gasping between harsh rolls of his hips, trying to keep your eyes open to stare at him while he chuckles in amusement at your effort.

“This cock,” he breathes, whispering the words against your ear, “it has come for you far too many times before now. Did you know that?”

“W-hat—oh, Ayato,” you cut yourself off with a mewl of his name from a sharp thrust, any question you want to ask him dying on your tongue.

“That first night of our wedding,” he drawls, kissing beneath your ear, I was not ill from the food. I was ill from you. You have possessed my mind since the first time I’ve laid eyes on you.”

“Please,” you whimper. You seem to clench around him at his words, earning a groan from him as you babble, “please, please—m’close.”

“Ah,” he chuckles, “so you like it, do you? Does it excite you to know that I’m unable to concentrate on anything? That I’ve spent so much time away from my duties coming undone to the thought of you? Answer me, sweet wife.”

“Yes,” you sob, nodding fervently, “yes—it does.”

“How fascinating,” he marvels, staring at you with pure awe. His eye twinkles with mischief as he murmurs, “It seems you’re just as filthy as I am. Good. Then I shall never waste another drop of seed on my hand or that tiresome bathroom floor of ours again—this beautiful cunt is more than willing to take me, isn’t it.”

You nod—and just as you do, you fall apart on his cock, spasming around him with tight walls that send him into his own orgasm.

He cums harder than he ever has before. And then he’ll cum again, he thinks. And again. And when he’ll pull his spent cock out, and he’ll notice the beautiful way his release leaks from your cunt, he’ll paint the rest of your body with his release too.

Ayato is a man of reputation, of class—that’s outside your chambers, though. Behind the closed doors, he’s a lustful, shameless man.

And you, his precious, giving wife, allow him to fulfill his ever insatiable desire.

Ok it’s 4 am and I didn’t mean for this to become this long it was genuinely supposed to be a 1-2 paragraph REPLY to an ask. Not a whole written work. But anyway. PREVERTEDLY ROMANTIC AYATO………

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children.

Warnings: fluff all the way; canon divergence; long post.

( @dracaryxzs for you! One hopes you might like seeing Aegon happy here)

***

• How it all began…

You are his twin, his other half… What one feels the other feels it too. Naturally, as a result, bond came. Courtiers like to say how “wherever the Lord Aegon goes, Lady Y/N is after him like a loyal puppet.”

What they don’t understand is that you and him are two sides of the same coin, blood of dragon, despite the prince calling you his sun, to which he himself gravitates.

“I cannot not believe you are never bored whenever we are together”, says Aegon.

You both are blossoming into youth. You are the only one he trusts, the one he is naturally charmed to. But something about his age doesn’t let him admit there are feelings too.

“I am unlike any other”, you tell him in turn, a smile on your rosy lips. “We came together to this world, Aegon.”

He gives you a shy smile, lowering his gaze—you tamed him, like, it is said, your grandmother had tamed her husband, your grandsire, when they were both the same age.

Lively and so full of life, not even Aegon can deny you anything.

“Let us ride, shall we?”

And not waiting for a response, he takes you by the hand and in between giggles and chuckles the two of you go after your respective dragons.

Sunfyre has been enamored by Dreamfyre and as a result the female dragon has put some eggs. As soon as you are told this, you tell the object of your affections that:

“See, Egg? Evident signs that we are bonded right here”, and you show him the different coloured eggs.

Aegon smiles at you. How can you make him forget the scars of his troubled soul? How can you even sweep away grey clouds, making it seem that it is possible to find happiness?

When looking at your serenity, at how beaming you are before the eggs you cling yourself to, the prince sees himself in you.

You are the light of my world, Y/N.

As if you feel the tenderness his thought emanates, you turn your head at him and give him an egg.

“We are grandparents now, I’m afraid.”

That makes him cackle. A sound so rejoicing, full of life. Few could tell to have ever heard Lord Aegon laugh merrily.

“Too young for that. Come, Y/N!” And then turning to Sunfyre, Aegon is the image of a boy who finds love and happiness where at home such were taken from him.

You smile warmly when seeing the golden dragon almost smiling itself the moment he welcomes his rider.

A bond as strong as the one I have with my beloved.

Then you are distracted by nearly losing balance when Dreamfyre comes at you, resting her head against your face.

“Calm down, girl. I am not as heavy as you are”, you giggle, gently laying your head over the scales of your dragon, whom you claimed when you were ten years old. “Ready to fly high? To some adventures, eh?”

A sound comes from your dragon’s throat. It’s almost as if she speaks excitedly: “Aye, let us go! I’m ready for it!”, which only increases your good mood.

Now here you two are, flying synchronized, one being the extension of the other. Skies may have some clouds, but sun shines high with some warm breeze that announces summer.

“I suggest we could fly atop Dragonstone”, you tell Aegon over your shoulder. “There’s a spot no one goes there.”

“Rhaenyra is settled there with her children”, says Aegon with an unread expression.

You shrug your shoulders.

“So what? I’ve been there frequently and not once she scoffed me off. I doubt she ever knew I flew to this spot.”

And you flash him a mischievous smirk.

Aegon laughs in turn, realizing he’s unable to deny you anything. Flying as high as he could, there’s little need to tell Sunfyre where to go. As if the creature captured the rider’s thoughts, he flies exactly to where he wants… as does Dreamfyre.

It is almost as if both dragons suspect something may come up… even if you and Aegon don’t know that yet.

*

There is a lake in the midst of vast forests, where silence reigns and there is no sign of any living being. A few hills here and there separate the spot of the rest of Dragonstone.

“How did you come here?”, Aegon inquires you, intrigued by this unusual place. Hardly a man acostumed to wild life, his eyes scan these new surroundings with a mix of suspect and curiosity.

You are untying your hair and loosening your gown—you often ride Dreamfyre in your feast gowns, much to the Queen’s dismay— when you say:

“I don’t think I fit very well at court. I tend to flee whenever I can.”

Aegon is somewhat distracted by your curves, and how poorly hidden your curves are beneath the fabric you dress. He swallows hard, then says:

“We are betrothed. One day you’ll be queen.”

You flash him another of your typical mischievous smirks.

“When have I never performed my duties, brother?”

Aegon shakes his head, but he’s chuckling when he comes next to you.

“Well?”, you tilt your head and the prince seems to notice how handsome you look, wild and free—the way you are born to be. “Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

“Is that a challenge?”, he asks you in a whisper.

You like how he looks at you. Maybe this makes your nipples hard. And maybe this makes him burning inside.

“Perhaps.”

And without waiting for a response, you jump in. Aegon smirks, soon following you.

***

• Summer Children.

His kiss is indescribable. No words can do justice to the warmth his breath gives you, to the bliss it inspires you, to the affection it craves in you. Oh, where are the words when we need most?

Whispers at court regard you and Aegon as the “Baelon and Alyssa” of your age, perhaps two souls reincarnated. Whatever the truth, all you can think about is the taste of his lips against yours.

Not only that, there is more to inspire. As you are riding Dreamfyre in the absence of your lover—he’s been summoned by your father to attend the council—, summer breeze cannot cool down the heat in your heart. And you still recall that night.

Where no living being is found amidst corridors, when, for a moment of weakness, no guard lies awake; when unprotecting is at stake… Here he comes, visiting you.

Boldly so, his steps are silent—right under his demeanor there is a haunted boy, famine for affection, filled with desire to please… but above all, a very insecure man who needs to play pretend before all.

Even though you are not like any other, being in fact the only one who’s witnessed his fragility, he remains blunt in his manners.

Yet when the door opens… and you stand there in your line nightgown with your hair loose, his confidence dies.

“I feared you’d not come”, but there is nothing blunt or arrogant in how you welcome him; but rather tenderness from the moment he’s engulfed in your arms. “I missed you, Aegon. Too much I long for you.”

“My dear Y/Nickname…”, he buries his head against your neck and from the moment he inhales your scent, no pride is strong enough to resist the obvious. “In vain have I struggled to repress my sentiments for you.”

Hearing these words give you the reassurance you’ve been longing.

“Oh you took long enough, didn’t you? I’ve been kept in waiting, but it was worth it.”

One kiss and you are doomed. Aegon waits no longer, not anymore. He takes hold of your face and presses his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip and slamming the door as he leads the way.

“You must promise, though”, you push him away gently, much to his frustration. But you need to be sure… just in case.

“Anything”, his voice comes out in a plea.

You raise your eyebrows and Aegon, though sensing what might be asked of, is willing to pay the price. He is not letting go of you.

“No more whoring. I am no woman of sharing”, you tell him seriously.

Aegon smiles warmly, but you spot relief behind his eyes. He grabs you by the waist and says:

“I am yours and yours alone, Y/N. We came out to this world together, didn’t we? So we are dying together as well.”

“That is some drama you put in there, love”, you smirk before clashing your lips against his.

That night you came to learn you loved riding your dragon and we are not talking about Dreamfyre.

*

Nine moons later, the results of you and Aegon’s indiscretion comes to the world with a very strong pair of lungs.

“Here comes a very strong prince”, so announces the midwife.

You are exhausted after almost 12 hours in labour, a puddle of sweat and blood, but from the moment you are told you delivered a boy, you beamed proudly:

“I performed my duty well.”

Aegon, in the meantime, is left waiting outside, pacing impatiently in the corridors.

“One wonders what witchcraft has Y/N used to keep you in this state”, muses Aemond in his unusual show of sense of humor.

The prince of Dragonstone doesn’t bother answering Aemond, rather limiting to shooting a glare. It’s when Princess Helaena comes with a smile on her lips.

“My brothers.”

“We salute you well, sister. But pray tell us the news soon: is Y/N well? How’s the child?”

“She is doing great, Aegon. She’s recovering and getting some rest. As for the child… congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy!”

Aegon is paled by the news and even Aemond gets somewhat concerned with his older brother, holding him by his elbows.

“Are you well?”

“A boy”, he mumbles. “Y/N gave us a boy.”

“Our line is safe”, Aemond agrees. Then turning at Helaena, he asks: “Has the name been chosen?”

“Well, Y/N wants a traditional name… so she decided to have the boy named after you, Aegon.”

No one had ever seen the prince Aegon this overjoyed. The way he smiles… who wouldn’t be captivated by this sight? Even Aemond smiles too at this sight. Of all the misadjusted family, at least two of them found happiness… though when Helaena looks at him, he’s not too far from it himself.

“I must see her!”

Ignoring Helaena’s advice that no man is allowed in these chambers, Aegon, tradition-breaker, storms inside, demanding to see you.

You have just left your privy quarters dressed in a line nightgown with your hair wet and recently brushed when he comes at you.

“Husband!”, you giggle quietly when you are engulfed by his strong arms. “You should wait for me. I am not churched yet and we must…”

“Fuck traditions. I wanted to see my wife”, says he, peppering your face with tender kisses before looking at you with the devotion of a lover. “Are you well?”

You cast him the most infatuated glance to him, locking your hands around his neck as if there were no witnesses in the room.

“I am, thank you. Nothing that I could not handle myself”, you assure him. “Aegon, I performed my duties. I gave you a son.”

“Even if it wasn’t, as long as the child is healthy and you are healthy too, nothing else matters”, he whispers in your ear.

The prince cannot state enough his relief in seeing you well and safe. By how he holds you close, it is as if he needs another reassurance that childbirth will not steal you of him.

Feeling his fears, you raise your chin and give him that blunt gaze that marks your lively personality which he’s familiar with.

“I have no intention in leaving you alone in this world, unless you choose another to be in my place.”

Aegon gives you a meaningful look before snorting and scoffing at the same time.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! How could you possibly consider I’d find a substitute for you? I thought you knew me better, woman.”

You both share a quiet laugh before kissing as if to seal an unspoken vow. Not too far from the scene is the Queen, with her father by her side.

“Who’d know this was coming?”, she sighs, content with the merry scene that rolls before her gaze. “I may have been deprived of happiness myself, but on the other hand… thankfully such a burden is not placed on the shoulders of mine own offspring.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Alicent. This match is as fruitful as yours was”, says Otto, nonchalantly like usual. “But at times even I admit that I can see Baelor and Alyssa once more.”

A struggle he keeps to himself, since Otto and Baelor never saw eye to eye. Leaving such personal haunting aside, eventually this summer prince also named Aegon is seen placed in the arms of his mother.

“He’s a lovely child”, murmurs Aegon, whose head is now resting over your shoulder. “I cannot stop looking away of his delicate features.”

“Perhaps you should hold him”, you suggest in a whisper since the regal baby is asleep in your arms.

“I do not wish to wake him up”, says your husband, though you may detect a degree of panic in his voice.

You find his concern adorable, respecting his time. This afternoon, you and him watch over your newly born soon in great delight of how your love produced a handsome baby.

“Our summer prince”, you beam at him.

Aegon shares a smile with you. He looks thrilled before kissing your forehead.

“I cannot believe I am his father.”

“A doting father as I’m sure you will be.”

At times he doubts it, but this is a shadow he is unwilling to cast in such a bright moment. All Aegon can say is:

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He does blush though when you kiss his cheek and tell him in turn:

“How could it be otherwise? As my other half, you shall burn as bright as any dragon, my sun and stars.”

***

Little Egg, as he is called, is getting every attention Aegon’s father never bother doting his son. Whilst you are breast feeding, just nine months later his birth, a baby girl whom you named Alysanne after your favourite ancestor, father and son are found together at the nunnery.

“Your mother told me she plans to take you and Dear Alys to fly our dragon. I am not discouraging her, but we should best wait for a litttle bit, uh?”, says the protective father whilst rocking his lively and often chuckling boy in his arms. “Oh so you think this is funny? Are you planning to take after your great-grandparents?”

Aegon is holding him still, playing with the boy when the moment is interrupted by a maid.

“Excuse me, sire. His lordship must be fed. And your lady wife has summoned you.”

“Very well”, he stands, with the prince in his arms. “Before I handle you my precious jewel, Lady H/N, I must be certain you have been fed well. After all, you are responsible for feeding my child.”

“Indeed, lord. I am healthy and robust from the day I started the service”, the woman says seriously.

“Good. I appreciate it”, he nods before kissing his son’s temple. When seeing he’s about to weep, Aegon softens: “Do not cry, my prince. This is not a farewell. I shall go back later, I assure you.”

Reluctantly, he parts, though he does wish to go back when hearing a cry. Aegon pauses at the door but when looking back, Lady H/N has taken little Egg inside the quarters.

*

“How is mine faire ladies?”, the soon to be king asks you the moment he steps inside.

“Looking better than you”, you giggle quietly. “What happened, love?”

“I had to leave him with those women”, Aegon grumbles.

“I know. I don’t like leaving him there either, but thanks to you I can only feed one child now”, you laugh quietly.

Alysanne, whose hair is as silver as her parents’s, makes noises and Aegon, now more confident in how handling babies, carefully holds her.

“If I remember well, you were climbing on me when I was trying to sleep just the day you were churched”, Aegon chuckles.

“You keep saying that to yourself”, you lean to kiss his cheek. “You have been blessed with a handsomeness that makes me difficult not to merrily engage in marital affairs.”

Again, your bluntness makes him blush, a deed only you could brag in succeed doing so. Aegon gives you a long, meaningful look.

“Watch your tongue, woman. You don’t know what you are saying.”

But his mischievous smirk tells you precisely otherwise. The connection you two share has never grown stronger…

***

• Midnight Sun.

Little Egg is barely three when Aegon takes him for a ride in Sunfyre and you take two year old Alysanne with you as you mount Dreamfyre. It’s late night and since this family is restless, there’s no obligation to stop them in doing so—as if any would do in other period of the day.

“Fly high, Dreamfyre”, you whisper the command in High Valyrian and the dragon doesn’t need much before taking impulse and… weeeee, you and your excited child finally get to the skies.

“Let us do this, S.”, Aegon tells his beautiful golden dragon, resting his face against the creature’s forehead. “Look, this is the son I told you about. He gets my name, and Gods hope that he takes after my best traits. Not that I have many, but…”

Sunfyre buffs as if saying: oh please, you may not be perfect, but you have great qualities! To which Aegon blushes and smiles.

“You are a great friend, Sunfyre.”

“Daddy”, says Little Egg. “Fly!”

“Calm down young man. Are you in a rush?”, Aegon chuckles at his demanding son.

“Mommy… flew.”

“Oh. She’s always in a rush that woman you call your mother. Let’s do it then.”

And soon Aegon’s smile would spread larger if possible as Sunfyre finally spreads his large wings and begins to fly, the reason why Little Egg is happy.

When they are finally getting higher, Aegon makes sure his son is enjoying it. He wants to create this memorable moment that shall reinforce the bond father and son has.

It’s working since little Egg turns his head to his father and says:

“Amazing!”

“Are you enjoying that, my boy?”

“Yes! More, more! Please!”

Aegon laughs happily and does as requested. They fly as high as possible before diving below to meet you and Alysanne. The scene makes the prince emotional. His wife is looking as beautiful as wild as the day he realized he loved you to an unbearable point.

Sensing his gaze, you turn your head to meet him. And feeling your feelings, Dreamfyre is instantly drawn to Sunfyre.

“How’s it going?”, you ask him, eyes sparkling with delight for making it possible an old dream where you and Aegon, together with children of your own, would fly with your respective dragons.

“Just the way you wanted”, so Aegon tells you as if he’s read your mind.

You and him exchanged loving gazes and sweet smiles, letting the dragons taking the reins of the situation.

Indeed, as your children beam, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre dance.

Such is the dance of the dragons.

**

The toddlers are snoring by the time you and Aegon land.

“They should sleep with us in bed this night”, he suggests you, as he passes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I agree”, and then you instantly pause before the door of the red keep. “Aegon… I would like to thank you.”

“What for?”, he asks you, intrigued.

“For giving me these lovely children, for being the partner I’ve always known you’d be. For being my other half.” You smile softly. “I’d die for you, I hope you know that. You deserve to be loved, to all that you are given.”

“Y/N…”, he’s surprised to hearing these words of you, even though Aegon never needed proof of how you felt for him.

You stroke his face, wiping away his tears. Both of you know that you only have each other, and yet it’s enough. Specially now you have children of your own.

Resting his forehead against yours, the prince closes his eyes and kisses you.

“Whatever our souls are made of…”

“…mine and yours are the same.”

***

• Epilogue.

Alysanne is fast asleep when she dreams of dragons. Dragons that fight, dragons that die, dragons that survive. In the midst of chaos, she runs after her father.

Where is he? She calls out his name only to find another who is not in his throne. She wakes up thus, unable to remember the usurper’s identity, a mere shadow. But it’s enough to scare the seven year old princess.

She leaves her privy chambers. It’s still dark, but she needs to be sure he’s there somehow. Alysanne runs barefoot to her parents’ chambers. She opens its door, holding her breath but praising the Gods there’s some fire in the fireplace.

She sees you’re sleeping next to your father, but when seeing he’s there…. what a relief. Yet, the princess is scared to go back to her chambers.

“Papa”, she pokes him. “Papa, wake up.”

Aegon groans lightly, but when seeing it’s his oldest daughter calling him, he only rubs his eyes and makes sure to sit properly, careful in not waking you up.

“Lys”, he calls her affectionately and is probably thankful for wearing some proper garments after early copulating with you. “What’s wrong?”

Alysanne quickly throws her arms around his neck.

“I am scared. I don’t want to lose you”, she sniffs.

Aegon rocks her in his arms, smiling quietly for doing so.

“You’re not losing me. Who told you this nonsense? Has Little Egg been teasing you again?”

“No. He’s been good, actually”, she tells him, holding tightly against his neck. “I had a nightmare.”

For some reason, this gives him shivers. But Aegon isn’t inclined to dig into this deeper.

“A nightmare is just a nightmare. Come. Do you want to sleep with mama and papa today?”

Alysanne smiles brightly. She then kisses his cheek just as you are waking up.

“What happened?”, you ask, worried. “Are you well, my dear Alys?”

“She had a nightmare”, Aegon tells you as if this doesn’t mean anything, but one exchange of glances tells you this isn’t anything. Yet neither should feed it. And you agree. “So I’m letting her sleep with us tonight.”

You nod discreetly before kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Of course. Like the good old days uh?”

And you watch as Alysanne makes herself comfortable in between you and your husband. Aegon strokes her hair as you cover her.

“Do you think…?” Aegon leaves the question in the air.

“Let us leave to concern about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Aegon agrees. But neither looks forward to go back to sleep. As he casts a fond gaze at the princess, you take his hand and give it a small squeeze.

“It’s going to be all right. Helaena is doing well with it.”

“I know. But…”

“And at the same time she’s not like Helaena”, you tell him. “Let us not confuse things. It’s going to be well.”

“I just worry. I do not wish…”

Aegon looks away, remembering the wounds of his neglect childhood. There’s little need to explain since you can feel what he feels.

“Aegon, my love. We are not like them”, you tell him firmly. As he looks at you, you stroke his hair and place a lock of his messy hair behind his ear. “We are not like our parents. We are better than them. I’d not say so if I believed otherwise. Just look at how Egg seeks to impress you, how Alysanne came after you tonight… or how our twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera often run after you.”

Aegon smiles quietly.

“How can you convince me that easily?”

“It’s the truth I speak. Besides… I have to tell you something”, and here you whisper. “I conceived again.”

“Oh how fertile we are!”, Aegon chuckles merrily.

You both kiss, before settling to lay down, careful now with your daughter fast asleep in between you. Shadows for once are pushed and in late night midnight sun comes to shine bright.

Oh these delights…

[coralinnii]

‧₊˚✧ Welcome to the Family‧₊˚✧ 

↳ Getting Culture Shock from Your Friendly Family

feat: Sebek ❋ Silver ❋ Malleus genre: fluff, note: no pronouns were used for reader, established relationships, TWST characters’ age are canon-accurate (so no underage drinking), 

So... I sort of misinterpreted a request and there's just too much to change so I'm gonna have to redraft an entire writing post. But, I felt like it'd be a waste to delete this so I hope you enjoy this random plot.

The culture shock hit the fae the moment your boisterous family opened the doors with bright smiles and excited cheers. 

“You must be Sebek! Come in, come in!” 

Word must have spread because not only your parents, but Sebek ended up being introduced to your aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, grand-aunts and uncles who were visiting your parents that day. Apparently, your extended family tree was ‘coincidentally’ in the area and wanted to drop by to see the man you brought home. 

A simple lunch plan became an all-out buffet with your family pulling out the extra chairs and plates. Sebek insisted on helping with the heavy lifting which your parents adamantly refused. 

“A guest doesn’t do anything!” “That’s right, just relax and have a drink!” 

“Dad, he’s 16.” 

Sebek was in slight awe of the power your human family possessed, not really physical power but rather their charismatic aura that he couldn’t fight against. Sebek came from a good home as well, but this feeling of intimacy and acceptance from a group of humans that owes him no such hospitality is new to him.

It was as if he was reduced to a pampered child and any responsibility or obligation, he had was taken off his shoulders. 

Once the table was set, Sebek’s vision was overcome by a whirlwind of hands, utensils, and food. Without lifting a finger, the green-haired guest had a mountain of food piled up on his large plate. It was a cuisine unlike the Briar Valley’s food he was familiar with, but the aroma was too tempting to ignore. 

The house was full of loud chatter and laughter that brought a sense of homely warmth to Sebek.

Sebek came from a good home as well, but this feeling of intimacy and acceptance from a group of humans that owes him no such hospitality is new to him.

This feeling of being swept away by your family was… strange but not unpleasant.

"So, how are you keeping up with my family?” You cheekily questioned the tall young man, finally alone as the two of you hid in the sanctuary that was your bedroom. 

After lunch, the little ones in the family were taking advantage of your boyfriend’s trained body as they climbed and swung on him like a jungle gym. Of course, you trusted Sebek as he kept his stance and never once did he drop or falter while the children played to their heart’s content. 

“Hmph, as if a bunch of humans could ever be a challenge for a knight such as myself.” Sebek huffed with all his bravado, but you see the gel in his hair slightly wearing off from sweat. 

You smiled regardless. “That’s good, then. I’m honestly surprised that you're so good with kids.” 

The green-haired man smirked with confidence. “Of course, I would not be so easily taken down by such a puny number of opponents.” 

“Please don’t call my cousins your opponents.” 

Sebek straightened his back as he puffed up his chest. “I am personally impressed that your family are not deterred by me, since not many can handle someone of proud fae blood such as myself!” 

You hummed humorously at him. You knew behind those arrogant words, you knew that he was actually nervous about your family being put off by him, be it for his heritage or his abrasive personality. You even swore that his hair seemed a little more gelled up than usual, hoping to look good in front of your family. 

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around Sebek’s broad shoulders, with Sebek instinctively stiffening from your touch. “My family loves you because they can see what I see. Who do you think raised me?” 

Sebek relaxed and turned his head to meet your eyes. His softened eyes reflected in yours as his hidden worries dissipated from your words. 

Both of you felt a mutual pull towards each other, lips leaning ever close to touch- 

Knock Knock 

Sebek well nearly flung you to the other side of your room in panic, his face burning with embarrassment while your face expressed more shock and a little indignation. 

“Mom and auntie said there’s snacks, so come down.” A tiny carefree voice came through the door before footsteps walking away followed after. 

Maybe Sebek was right. Your cousins were opponents, indeed. 

The moment you and Silver step foot into your family home, you weren’t sure who’s the guest and who’s the actual family member anymore. 

Silver was pulled to the center of the sofa with your family crowding him, cooing and praising the handsome man. 

“Such soft hair, you take good care of yourself!” 

“Not only that, you have a strong body too. You must eat well, that’s good.” 

He’s not your boyfriend, he’s our future son-in-law

Silver is fairly used to this kind of energy thanks to a certain easygoing fae but he does internally heave a sigh of relief that your family seem welcoming of him. Being a human from a primarily fae kingdom, he wasn’t sure how he would come across to other humans.

If you ever worry about the potential gawkers Silver would attract with his good looks and personality, imagine that…but with your very own blood-bonded family. 

You and your family had to suppress your bubbling laughter as you watched your little siblings' eyes sparkle at the prince-like young man you brought home. They quickly latched onto the confused knight-in-training, chubby hands either gripping the leg of his pants or raised up high asking for a hug.

“Should I up my game so I won’t lose my only boyfriend?” 

You finally couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when said boyfriend asserted with such a convicted expression that he would never stray from you. 

Finally, you and Silver had a moment to yourself…or at least one as close as you can get while your little siblings run amok at the park nearby. While the adults were cooking up a storm back home, the children wanted to play outside which led you and your boyfriend on babysitting duty. 

“So…” you started the conversation while the two of you leisurely sat under the shade of a hefty tree. “How are you feeling? I know my family can get a little…much.” 

“They remind me of Father in many ways.” Even with some drowsiness in his voice, Silver replied without hesitation. “It was almost like being in a room with multiple versions of him.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

The fair man looked over to the park where your siblings were yelling and running without a care in a world. He knew they could feel so carefree because they have you watching over them and have a whole room full of people waiting for them with a warm, hearty meal. 

Never alone, never unloved. A big, joyful family.

And these loving people readily welcomed him, a child with mysterious origins and an unfamiliar upbringing. Silver didn't want to come off as unapproachable or disrespectful due to his quiet demeanor, but your family was unaffected in the least and accepted him with open arms.

Silver smiled at you like a man blessed by the heavens. “It’s wonderful. I never thought my life could feel even brighter and warmer than it already is.” 

You smiled back, warmth filling your heart after hearing the man you love equally cherishing the people precious to you.

Perhaps Silver’s sleepiness has rubbed off on you as you felt compelled to rest your head on his side, with Silver immediately laying his head atop of yours.

“Next time, let’s invite Lilia too.” A quick look of panic was shared between you two. “He’s not allowed in the kitchen, though.” 

“Agreed.” 

Malleus, a being of pure fae blood, was the most clueless of what to expect at a human gathering which led to a multitude of questions regarding human customs. It was rather adorable to watch this imposing figure pace back and forth over the most minor of concerns. 

“What is the customary gift to offer your family as a greeting?” 

“I don’t know, wanna try gold bars? Haha…wait Malleus don’t actually-!” 

After calming your boyfriend's nerves, the two of you finally reached your home where your family were excitedly waiting for you and the man you brought.

Of course your family is impressed by the magnificent figure that was Malleus and the inhuman features that the fae worried over were instead adored and admired. 

“His horns look strong but shiny, so sleek.” 

“Such a tall, handsome man! A little skinny, but very healthy and that’s what matters.” 

Mayhap, this lack of fear of yours is an inherited trait.  

Soon, compliments turned to gifts as your family bombarded Malleus (and by extension you, I guess) with things around the house that they think kids your age would like. Free prizes they’ve won, treats the family bought too many of, presents given by other relatives or friends…everything was suddenly in his hands and lap. 

It was almost entertaining watching your boyfriend, who could literally acquire any materialistic goods he could want for, get overwhelmed by all the gifts and trinkets that he could barely carry in his arms.

“Just be grateful, Malleus. At least they hadn’t given shopping bags filled with those dried fruit snacks you mentioned were good yet.”

A sense of calm and peace finally came over your household. Well, your family’s version of calm at least, which is everyone sitting around the living room, chatting while watching a melodrama with that attractive actor your grandmother likes. 

Imagine the confusion and slight concern on Malleus’s face as your mother tried to explain the plot of the whole series. 

“Is he not aware of how his mother is treating his paramour? How can he let this be?” 

“Malleus sweetie, he’s been in the hospital this whole time because of that car accident with his half-brother. That’s why the mother is trying to get rid of the girl before he wakes!” 

You chuckled at the scene of your sweet boyfriend giving his full attention to your mother’s passionate venting, but a pang of anxiety pricked you. 

Your family can be quite boisterous and forward, even by typical human family standards. You never wanted to pry into Malleus’s personal life but you can’t imagine any noble fae behaving like your family do. You are by no means embarrassed by your family, but you’d hate the idea that Malleus was feeling uncomfortable but far too courteous to speak out.

Gently, you called Malleus’s attention with a subtle touch atop his hand. When he turned to you, you motioned him to lean down to whisper into his ear. “If we get too loud, you can excuse yourself. I can cover for you.” 

Malleus felt aghast by your words. Was he giving off any signs of dissatisfaction? That was not his intention at all. 

Yes, your family is unlike most families the young fae heir have encountered. In fact, they are unlike most people he has encountered in general. No one would be brave enough to crowd him so freely, to pull one of the strongest mages of their time around to their whim. 

In contrast to the large, silent halls of his throne room in his castle, Malleus found himself nearly squished into a couch with someone at every direction while chatter filled this comparatively small home. 

How delightful this has been for him to be a part of this lovely family.

Hoping to convey his sincerest thoughts, Malleus encompasses your hand in his, whispering softly to you. 

“I’m enjoying myself, truly.” 

Your mother suddenly perked up, looking away from her phone she was typing away on. “Oh, honey! My friend group is planning on a road trip to this cute retreat. Would you and Malleus want to join us?” 

“Are you…inviting me?” 

If Malleus’s tail was visible right now, do you think you’d see it wagging excitedly?

[hoshifighting]

Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan

— Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.

Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.

His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.

Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.

Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering. 

His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.

Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.

The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.

"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.

Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.

"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."

Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."

Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"

"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.

"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.

[...]

"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.

He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.

Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."

Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."

"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."

Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.

His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."

Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal. 

As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.

Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.

Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.

You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.

As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.

As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.

"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.

"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.

Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.

"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.

Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."

You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."

Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."

Chan nods.

You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.

Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.

It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.

As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.

And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.

Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.

With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.

"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.

"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.

You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes. 

[...]

The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.

A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.

"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."

Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.

Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.

Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.

As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.

Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."

There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.

The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.

"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.

"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.

Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.

You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.

You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.

"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."

Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

[...]

As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.

Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.

You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.

Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment. 

Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.

One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.

You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.

You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.

Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.

Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.

Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.

Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.

When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"

Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."

You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.

Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.

"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.

Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."

You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."

Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."

You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."

His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"

You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."

Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.

“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.

“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”

Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.

As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.

“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”

The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.

“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”

You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”

Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”

“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”

He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”

[...]

The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.

“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”

The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.

“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”

“He seems different,” another added, giggling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”

Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.

It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead. 

“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”

“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.

As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.

You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.

“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.

“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.

You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.

Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”

You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.

Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"

Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"

That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.

Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”

You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”

“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”

As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.

As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.

His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.

Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.

"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."

Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.

Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.

His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.

As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.

As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.

You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.

"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack. 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.

You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.

Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.

Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.

When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.

"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.

You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.

Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.

The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."

Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."

"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."

His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."

His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.

"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."

Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.

In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.

"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. 

Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.

The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.

"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.

"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.

"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely. 

Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."

You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."

He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."

You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"

Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."

"So wet... all for me."

Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."

He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."

His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.

You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.

"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.

"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.

Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips. 

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"

"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."

You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."

Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"

"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."

You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.

 You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.

You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."

Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."

You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"

Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."

With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."

Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.

As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.

He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.

You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.

You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body. 

"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."

He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."

Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.

"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.

[oatmilk-vampire]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

[chevroletdean]

mirror sex [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024

ship: dean x afab!fem!reader genre: smut, angst to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, established relationship, hunt almost gone wrong, canon-level violence, patching/stitching up wounds, dean’s self loathing tendencies, hurt/comfort, little bit of praise kink, fingering, porn with plot word count: 3.6k a/n: three days until halloween and i feel like i’m way behind on kinktober. i might just try to get to some of these during november as well, my apologies. also, the cat’s out of the bag: i’m a sucker for angst. i’m curious what you guys enjoy to read/write the most, are you more into fluff, smut, or angst?

Dean’s harsh on himself. Always. You knew that even before you started dating him. It’s how he grew up, after all. From a young age it’s been drilled into him by John; that he has to be tough and strong, that he isn’t allowed to think before he acts, that certain things have to be done – even when these things are ugly. Even when they turn other things ugly. Things like the sight of his hands afterwards. Things like his whole reflection, honestly.

It’s days like these where he enters autopilot, in a poor attempt of resorting to a self-defense mechanism. He can’t stand the reflection in the mirror, so he simply doesn’t look. He wouldn’t like what he sees, so he avoids it altogether, if he can.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business – killing monsters always sounds so heroic until you realize your decisions are cut-and-dry to the cruelest degree, until the soap can only scrub clean the red from your hands but not the guilt that still sticks to your skin, and until you begin to wonder who the actual monster is.

Dean’s harsh on himself in that he blames himself for everything. It’s all his responsibility, the weight of the world always on his shoulders.

Hunts go wrong. It’s part of the job, but that thought isn’t as comforting as it should be, because it doesn’t change anything and it doesn’t take away any of the gravity.

Dean and you had been tracking down this pack of aggressive werewolves. The job had sounded so easy, everything had been so straight-forward. Until you two realized that the town’s sheriff was in on it, and ultimately, so was his son. Partially, at least. Just a kid, barely twenty-one – about the age when Sam hit the library, when he should’ve hit on cute girls on campus, around the age of frat parties with beer-pong cups and hangovers.

A guy who had his whole life ahead of him, but had it snuffed out by a silver bullet to his chest. (or rather, by Dean’s finger pulling that trigger, if you’d ask Dean how it went down, because he sees no point in distancing himself from the narrative when it was his doing). Not because that kid wanted any of it. Hell, as Dean and you had been investigating the case, you came to realize all that boy wanted was a peaceful life. And you knew it was possible, some werewolves were able to build up normalcy without killing anybody, picket-fence and all, more so than your average hunter, sometimes.

But you had shot the sheriff, given that he’d been systematically kidnapping his victims throughout the years. And upon witnessing the silver piercing through his father’s chest, the student went downright feral. He attacked you and jumping you, going for a bite that never landed, was the last thing he ever did.

“You had to shoot him,” you told Dean in the car, just like he predicted you would.

“I know,” came Dean’s reply and those were the only words during the whole ride, just like you predicted they’d be.

Even upon arrival back at the bunker, he remains silent. The loudest noises are just his footsteps, which are heavier than usual as he drags you to your shared room, and ultimately the slam of the bathroom door that he shuts behind the two of you.

“Sit,” he says, voice laced with anger that you know he only directs at himself, and nudges you to the edge of the bathtub. You know better than to argue with him and despite the fact that there’s a nasty gash on his shoulder, you let him clean the minor scratch above your eyebrow first. You must’ve hit your head back when the werewolf slammed you against a shelf, but you’ve definitely had worse. But Dean puts others before himself and your wellbeing is always his priority.

Yet, his ministrations aren’t exactly gentle. He dabs the rubbing alcohol to your cut brow without any regard for the way you wince slightly. His eyes don’t meet yours as he shoves his hand into the cupboard and impatiently fishes for bandages. His jaw is clenched tightly as he patches you up with a bandaid.

He’s in his own head, clearly – or trying to keep those spiraling thoughts at bay within his self-critical mind. Those what ifs and should’ve dones would kill him otherwise.

You can only watch as he straightens his back, turns around, takes a step towards the sink opposite to the bathtub, slams the cabinet shut again, and keeps his gaze purposefully low. His eyes remain glued to his hands as he washes them, as if he doesn’t dare to lift his chin.

“Let me help you with your shoulder,” you mumble softly and he almost can’t hear you over the running water and the running thoughts. It’s your gentle touch that makes him snap out of it, but even as he raises his head at last, his eyes only land on the reflection of you. Your face peeks out over his shoulder, one of your arms wrapped around his middle, the other hand ghosting over his blood-soaked sleeve.

“No need, ‘m fine,” he grumbles, stubborn as ever. But as he turns off the faucet, the movement reminds him of the sharp ache and the dull throb in his arm. Just the graze of the sheriff’s bullet. He knows he got lucky, but he also can’t bring himself to care about any of that with every other dreadful aspect of today.

“A couple of inches away from death doesn’t fit my definition of fine, Dean.”

He can’t argue with that, it would be hypocritical. A droplet of blood on your forehead is enough to make him worry and who is he to deny you your concerns when he’s been injured too? Besides, he knows you can see right through him. Physical injuries are one thing, but the emotional damage often runs deeper than any blade or gun could.

Though his muscles are stiff, Dean doesn’t resist as you slowly peel off his flannel. His eyes are still fixated on you. He can’t bring himself to look at the wound himself, much less let his gaze drift anywhere close to his own reflection right now.

Your movements are mesmerizing enough to keep him distracted anyway.

You reach around him to turn the faucet back on and you grab a washcloth. You tie your messy hair back and out of the way and you carefully roll up the short sleeve of his shirt. You dampen the cloth and wipe the blood from his arm. Once you disinfect the wound, he ultimately looks away. Not because of the sting of the rubbing alcohol, but because of the pain he recognizes in your eyes. Your brows knit together and you frown slightly, sighing to yourself.

He can’t bear watching you pity or fuss over him when part of him feels like he deserves this.

“C’mon, ’s not even that bad, sweetheart,” he grumbles, but his voice is strained.

Your movements come to a halt as you blink up at the mirror, expecting to see his green eyes look back at you through the reflection. But Dean’s head hangs low again and his hands grip onto the edge of the sink he’s staring into.

“I’m glad it’s not,” you hum, but you still grab ahold of his hands and pull him away from the sink. “Sit.”

When you say that word, it sounds a thousand times softer than when he did. You know he hadn’t huffed it at you earlier, but rather didn’t bother concealing his bad mood. Still, his annoyances aren’t directed at you, so he makes an effort to pull you closer gently, in apologetic fashion. His hands settle on your hips as he sits down on the edge of the tub. You’re standing between his legs, surgical thread and needle in your hand.

“Lift your arms f’me, babe?”

When Dean follows your instructions without a witty remark about how eager you are to get him to strip, you know the self loathing is bad. You help him peel off his shirt, tossing it straight into the laundry basket. Luckily there aren’t any other major injuries, though you suspect a couple of bruises will bloom by tomorrow.

His hands go back to your hips, as if he’s able to steady and ground himself by holding you, to which you have no complaints. As long as he’ll let you stitch him up, you even let his bolder touches slide. You’re so focused on closing up the wound that you barely react to his fingers curling around the back of your thighs.

With this position, Dean’s practically forced to face the mirror again. It’s right behind you and with the way you’re half bent over, leaning down to his arm, the view is without obstruction. But his attention is fixated on the jeans-cladded plush in his palms. His hands wander higher, fingers splaying out over your curves. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze to which your breath hitches.

“Careful, unless you want to end up looking like Frankenstein’s monster,” you chuckle playfully, relieved that he’s in high enough spirits for teasing touches.

“Since when are you not into the scarred badass guys?”

“Touché,” you smile in response, “Although I prefer them in a confident mood.”

He groans, knowing where this is going, but he decides to play along. “What d’ya mean?”

Your smile curls into a smug grin as you shrug. “I mean,” you sigh and finish the last stitch, securing the thread into a knot and setting the needle aside. “Scarred, badass guys are even hotter when they know that they’re strong,” you continue, before you plant a kiss to his forehead, “that they’re brave…” Another kiss, to his nose this time.

A quiet growl escapes him as he instinctively tightens his grip on your ass. You know he doesn’t fully believe your words, but you’re adamant about convincing him, so you continue with your list: “…heroic.” More kisses, this time a chaste one directly to his lips, though Dean scoffs and pulls away almost immediately.

“Yeah, right,” he scowls. “Nothing screams hero more than murdering someone.”

“You saved me tonight,” you argue back, whilst gently cupping his face. “You’re definitely my hero.”

His gaze wanders from your lips up to your eyes, seeing nothing but gratitude and adoration in them. Both of which he feels undeserving of. Dean Winchester isn’t half the hero you think he is, he’s all kinds of screwed and his fucked up life consists of violence and regret most of the time. Yet you always look at him as if there’s something worth looking at. Even when he can’t see it himself.

“Just doing my job,” he replies and his voice feels thick and wrong on his own tongue.

“No,” you huff, your thumbs tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, the scruff grazing against the pads of your fingers. “It’s not your job to look after me, or to fight evil. But you’re damn good at it and you do it to make the world a better place. Just like you did today.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at your words, since he’s not exactly sure how shortening the lifespan of a young man can possibly add any plus points to his karma. But he understands where you’re coming from, even if he can’t accept it fully just yet. He doesn’t regret pulling the trigger either, he’d do it again – in a heartbeat – if it meant keeping you alive. In that regard, what he did was the right thing, but that didn’t mean it was an easy thing.

“You did what you had to do, babe,” you sigh, tilting his face up a little again before he could avert his gaze once more.

You’d tell him that he shouldn’t beat himself up over it, but that would be like talking to a wall. Your reasoning tends to reach him better than the loving reassurances, even though you both know you’re right. Maybe that boy didn’t deserve to die, werewolf or not, but in that moment it was either him or you.

Your lips land on him once more, this time on his jaw, before they wander down the hollow of his throat. Dean welcomes the sensation of your mouth on his neck, your teeth against his collarbones. Your hands on his chest, warm and soft and eager. So eager to make him feel good, to prove to him his own worth.

Your fingers are always enough to make his walls crumble. The sweet nothings you whisper to his ear always suffice. It might not heal him entirely, but his doubts are soothed for the moment whenever you need him. Whenever you give him what he needs. Whenever you love him.

Your hands reach the waistband of his denim pants, against which his cock is already beginning to strain. Once your touch ghosts over the prominent bulge, he snaps and indulges. In one swift movement, he stands up, his hands still tight on your hips as he picks you up and carries you to the sink. Within a second you find yourself positioned on the bathroom counter, your back nearly bumping against the mirror behind you and your legs draped around Dean’s waist. You’d complain about how he should be careful, lest he wants the fresh stitches to rip open, but your protest dies on Dean’s tongue, which he has already slipped past your lips.

Dean kisses you hard and with purpose, as if wanting to repay your praises. Where your mouth works its magic through words, he has always known different ways to use his. Always a man of actions, your boyfriend. His lips wander down your neck, making you gasp in delight.

He grunts, dizzy with the taste of you, your scent, your voice. You’re so soft under his calloused hands that he’s reminded once more of how close he was to losing you tonight. His impatient hands pull your shirt up over your chest, where his lips latch onto. He doesn’t even bother pulling it over your head fully, eager to search your heartbeat with his tongue, as if he’s able to taste that you’re still alive that way.

While you’re busy discarding your shirt properly, Dean’s mouth finds your nipple through the lace of your bra. You arch your back into his touch further, his name falling from your lips in a whimper that almost has his brain short-circuit.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gruffs and pulls you off the counter, turning you in his arms so you’d face the mirror. His low voice is gravelly and half muffled by the column of your neck, which he still works some hickeys into. “Always treating me like some kind of hero when you’re the one keeping me alive and sane.”

His bare chest is pressed flush against your back and your hips are lodged against the edge of the sink, to which your shaky fingers grip so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You whimper again, softly, as you feel him rock his hips against your ass. Were it not for his large hands around you, one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, your knees would give out and you’d topple over.

Dean shoves a little harsher, his chest still flat against your back as he pushes you closer to the mirror. It’s fogging up slightly with how heavily you’re panting against the glass. Your eyes meet through the reflection and he finds himself not minding the mirror so long as you’re in the picture as well.

The bandaid that used to roughly match your skin color earlier now sticks out against your flushed face, red and warm all the way down to your neck and even your chest. Your lips are kiss-bitten, puffy and slightly parted as your ragged breath is interrupted by little mewls and whines.

Most days Dean’s looks in the mirror and hates what he sees. But he could get used to this view. At least he can appreciate the sight of his own hands on you, one around your throat, the other between your thighs, making you unravel, being held by yours as you reach for his wrists.

“Maybe scratch the sane part, you know you’re driving me crazy,” he revises his earlier statement as his deft fingers make quick work of your jean’s button and fly. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and you shudder as he watches every small reaction of yours closely, like a hawk.

He shoves his hand straight into your underwear, satisfied when his fingers find your slick and his ears pick up on the meek moan. He’s barely even touched you yet, but you’re already soaking. You’re so damn responsive it almost makes him want to rip both your pants off and just take you until you’ll see stars. While patience is a virtue, it’s not Dean’s strong suit – yet he wants to take his time with you.

“Always taking such good care of me,” he whispers roughly, gently pinching your clit between his middle and ring finger. “My turn making my girl feel good.”

Using your previous methods on you now, he presses a soft kiss to your temple. His lips brush right against the edge of your bandaid. “My pretty girl,” he breathes, before his mouth wanders to your cheek, where he places another kiss.

“My smart girl, always using her pretty head to keep us alive.” God knows his words are true – your quick thinking and ability to stay level headed has saved the both of you out of dangerous situations more times than he can count.

One of his fingertips slips past your entrance, causing you to overhear whatever he adds to the list of compliments. You’re too distracted by the digit sinking deeper into your cunt with little resistance.

Your blush deepens further, fingers curling around the sink’s ceramic. Your eyelashes flutter and your eyes threaten to close, but Dean prevents your head from dropping low with a gentle nudge of his hand. His fingers tighten around your throat, firm enough to make you redirect your focus, but not enough to squeeze your windpipes, let alone hurt you in any way.

“Eyes on the mirror, doll,” he hums against your jaw. “Would be a shame if you were t’miss out on the show, huh? Look how pretty you are f’me, princess, all sensitive and needy.”

You squirm and whimper, struggling to follow his order with how he’s making your head spin. He’s not playing fair. How’re you supposed to focus on anything except him adding another finger to pump in and out of your cunt?

“Dean, please,” you moan, desperately trying to wiggle your hips. You aren’t even sure what it is you’re begging for, exactly. More of him. All of him. Not like you can’t already feel him throb against the curve of your ass.

“Wanna see you cum on my fingers first, baby,” he mumbles, nearly slurring over his own words. But the hand around your throat loosens its grip and he already moves it down to pull your pants lower. “Know you’re almost there, can feel you squeezing the shit out of my fingers.”

You half groan half sob, beyond flustered, but too far gone to argue back. Your legs are already shaking thanks to his fingers thrusting in and out of you and your breathing becomes more ragged with each intake of oxygen. You attempt to throw him a pleading glance through the mirror, but all you can see is your own messy state. Your gaze briefly flickers down, watching his thumb circle your clit in the reflection. However, your eyes are forced back up as Dean’s free hand winds up in your hair and pulls your head back until it’s settled against his uninjured shoulder.

“Eyes up here,” he quips and you’d want to wipe that smug smirk off his lips, were it not for his fingers curling inside of you and pushing you over the edge at last. Your mouth falls open and you cry out as liquid heat rushes through every fiber of your body. You see your own reflection, expression twisted into pleasure and bliss as your orgasm washes over you and you clamp down on Dean’s fingers. Your grip tightens around his wrist, which doesn’t stop him from guiding you through the ecstasy.

“So good for me,” Dean praises, or you think that’s what you hear in your hazy state. You’re still trying to catch your breath as he withdraws his hands from between your now sticky thighs. He brings it up to his mouth, giving his fingers a brief lick. You shudder in awe watching him. His pupils are blown wide, glistening tongue peeking out from those plump lips of his.

But he changes his mind at the last second.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he whispers and presses his fingers against your lips. You obediently open your mouth for him, welcoming his fingers in, though you flush more as you taste yourself on his skin.

Your walls flutter and clench around nothing just at that, but you have a feeling he’s about to do something about the empty feeling. He smirks knowingly, his cheek pressed against yours, your faces in the mirror side by side.

“Think I should show you how pretty you look taking my cock? I swear, it feels unfair that I’m always the only one who gets to enjoy the show.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

@winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126 @zepskies @hot-and-confused

@spookyfunhottub @calibootsgirl

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BACK IN THE GAME ⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ fresh off a trip from brazil, hinata’s crashing at kenma’s place. the last thing he expected? being drawn to his old friend’s daughter

tags ➸ dilf!hinata, dad’s best friend trope (kinda), age gap, sexual tension, hinata and kenma have some tension between them (and it’s not the good kind), sorta ooc hinata, me mentioning his happy trail every five sentences, groping, dry humping, making out, biting, spanking, daddy kink, rough sex, blow job, face fucking, deepthroating/throat bulge, nipple play, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talking, kitchen sex, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, begging, hair pulling, manhandling

wc ➸ 16.4k 💀

The rhythmic pounding echoed down the hallway, rousing you from your half-doze on the living room couch. You frowned blearily at the Netflix menu awaiting your resumption, ears perking at the unexpected sound of knocking on your front door.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't help but bristle at the late-night intrusion. Didn't these losers ever just take a hint and leave you alone at this hour? Your dad may have been a famous streamer in his heyday, but that didn't give creeps free rein to wander up to your doorstep at all hours.

"Dad?" you called out in a raised voice to no response. Typical. Kenma slept like the dead most nights these days.

With an aggrieved huff, you snagged your baseball bat leaning against the bookshelf and stomped to the entryway. Through the peephole, the shadowy figure of a sturdily built man loomed close to the door, hand still raised mid-knock.

"Yeah, whaddaya want?" you barked out bluntly before your apprehension could spike any higher.

A brief pause, then a warm, distinctly male chuckle reverberated through the thick wood. "Well now, that's one heck of a way to greet an old friend after all these years! Kenma didn't mention his daughter was so...feisty."

You arched one eyebrow, taking in the rich timbre of his voice - smooth velvet with a hint of rasp that sent an inadvertent shiver tracing down your spine. Repositioning the bat over your shoulder, you pulled open the door to face the mystery man fully for the first time.

And immediately had to tighten your suddenly slack grip on your improvised weapon, lest it go clattering straight to the floor.

This was no vagrant creep or overzealous groupie eyeing you predatorily in the dim lighting. The figure standing there exuded the sort of unbridled masculine charisma that conjured half-baked fantasies about a forbidden tryst with your hot older teacher from high school days. Only...magnified exponentially into the stuff of genuine wet dreams now rendered flesh.

From the tousled carrot-orange thatch to the sculpted musculature rippling beneath his well-worn shirt with every subtle shift, this man was the literal embodiment of tall-dark-and-smoldering personified. And those eyes - vibrant pools of rich amber that seemed to gleam with unbridled mischief even surrounded by the crows-feet and laughter lines of someone clearly on the wiser side of his prime.

You swallowed hard against the sudden dryness coating the back of your throat despite your best efforts. Forcing a disaffected look to the contrary, you shrugged carelessly and made a point of raking an appreciative once-over up and down his form as blatantly as possible.

"Yeesh, you sure this is the right house, old man?" you drawled, deliberately pitching your tone into a low lilt that never failed to rile up horny douchebags in the past. "Because if you were looking for a hookup with a hot young thing like me tonight, we both know you're seriously barking up the wrong tree, Daddy."

Rather than look suitably shocked or affronted by your veiled taunts, the rugged older man simply chuckled again - a rough, airy sound that raised goosebumps anew along your arms in a way that set your nerves thrilling dangerously. Those striking amber eyes positively gleamed beneath hooded lids as he regarded you with an inscrutable expression.

"I always forget how spirited Kenma's little girl grew up being," he mused, the low rumble vibrating straight through you. "But I promise you this - your old Uncle Shoyo would never disrespect you like that if he was looking for a good time tonight."

At those words uttered so casually, your breath stuttered dangerously in your lungs as the ground seemed to shift sideways all of a sudden. Jaw plummeting slack, you gawped at this stranger in your doorway with fresh awareness dawning.

"Uncle...Shoyo?" you echoed dumbly. Like the legendary Monster Generation volleyball star that your dad occasionally reminisced about in his youth? That Uncle Shoyo?

The man's bright smile widened to boyish degrees crinkles radiating outwards from the corners of those molten amber eyes that still somehow managed to glitter with devilish hints despite his mature age. "The one and only! Though I guess it would be more accurate to call me Uncle Hinata these days, now that I'm an old geezer in your eyes."

Before you could summon any further response, another rich baritone voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the apartment. "Shoyo? That really you?"

You pivoted instinctively with your jaw still hanging slack as the familiar silhouette of your father appeared around the hall corner - all tousled bedhead and barely-contained excitement shining from his pale amber gaze now.

"Kenma! It's me alright, just like I promised," Uncle Hinata—Hinata exclaimed, already ambling forward to enfold your dad in a tight embrace. "Brazil hasn't changed a thing, buddy. Still somehow managed to grow taller than you even after all these years."

"Oh please," your dad retorted without any real heat, hugging his apparent childhood friend in turn. "Says the guy who spent a whole decade getting brain damage in the sand just so he could keep jumping a few inches higher until retiring."

The two men - former athletic rivals turned coworkers turned...whatever their bond was nowadays - shared a laugh you felt utterly excluded from. In that suspended heartbeat, you couldn't help but rake your eyes over Hinata's tall, rangy frame once more in renewed scrutiny.

Somehow the man beamed with youthful vibrancy and rakish appeal you'd assumed impossible for someone your dad's age and station in life - everything from that windswept tousle of sunset hair to the laidback charisma radiating from his very pores like some eternal beach spirit entranced you dangerously.

"So you're really him...?" you murmured once your mental faculties finally rebooted with a jolt. "The infamous Ninja Shoyo that Dad never shuts up about?"

A strange mixture of relief and renewed intrigue flickered across Hinata's striking features as his molten gaze returned to you - flicking up and down your frame with unabashed appraisal that made you straighten self-consciously.

"That's me..." he drawled in that low, smoky timbre that plucked straight at something deep in your feminine hindbrain. "Though nobody has called me that kinda name in years now, [Y/N]. Hard to be a ninja master when the rest of the world grows up faster than you do..."

At the playful self-deprecation, his eyes crinkled in that way that did utterly sinful things to your rapidly pounding pulse you refused to examine too closely. You forced a scoffing sound, jutting one hip out in an artless sprawl you hoped came across as aloof rather than captivated.

"Well you sure made one hell of an entrance tonight for being a 'retired old geezer,'" you couldn't resist taunting, relishing in the way his intense amber stare remained riveted to you as the faintest curl teased the corner of that full, expressive mouth.

"I just don't see what the big fuss was about if you were really such hot stuff back then," you drawled, deliberately dipping into that same honeyed lilt that had always been Kryptonite for cocky douchebags in your vicinity before. "But then again...maybe you are a different breed afterall, Uncle Shoyo..."

You held Hinata's gaze steadily, refusing to falter beneath the renewed heat you could have sworn flared behind those penetrating eyes as your meaning registered with naked clarity in the space between you. Your heart hammered a wild, furious tattoo against your ribcage that you couldn't quite place or dismiss the implications of just yet.

All you knew in that suspended breath of charged silence was that no matter how or why, this particular worldly older man - one you expected you should still view in some detached, innocuous uncle-figure capacity - had effortlessly sideswiped your flustered wits and begged exploration of places you could never revisit unscathed again.

The tension only mounted as you hastily retreated to the kitchen, mind whirling while you prepared a tray of tea with shaky hands. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the burn of Hinata's lingering stare nor the visceral lure of his powerfully-built frame.

Unseemly thoughts crept in of how those strong hands might feel on your body - calloused palms mapping every dip and curve with rough insistence as he crowded you against the nearest surface. You bit your lip hard, imagining the scrape of his stubbled jaw branding your fevered skin while pinning you in place with that intense smolder alone.

By the time the tea finished steeping, you grabbed the tray and took a fortifying breath before heading back to the living room. Uncle Shoyo and your dad were settled on the couch, deep in familiar conversation that felt almost jarring in its animation compared to Kenma's usual reservation.

You hung back for a moment, surreptitiously drinking in the sight of the older Hinata with fresh, unfettered appreciation. The sleeves of his t-shirt clung to every flexing cord of muscle in his biceps and forearms with each emphatic gesture, straining in a way you refused to find tantalizing.

More distracting still was the fabric pulled taut across the defined ridges and hard planes of his abdomen - clearly outlining the intriguing trail of auburn hair disappearing into the snug waistband of his pants. You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming as you watched that obscenely fit torso undulate and stretch with every deep inhale and rich laugh rumbled free.

"Oh [Y/N], there you are," your dad's voice rang out abruptly, startling you. He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as his gaze swept over your flustered expression. "Everything okay there? You look a little...feverish."

Heat flooded your cheeks as Hinata turned those scorching amber eyes towards you once more, shameless interest glinting from their depths. His stare raked over your form in a lingering, unabashed appraisal that made you want to squirm like a prize heifer on display.

"Hmm, you might be onto something there, Kenma," Hinata drawled in that low, rumbling timbre that sent tingles dancing down your spine. "She did look maybe a little worked up about something when she came back just now..."

"Uncle Shoyo!" you sputtered despite yourself, outrage burning away any lingering embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks for your concern."

Kenma continued scrutinizing you with that canny, assessing look he always wore when suspecting you were up to no good. You jutted your chin up stubbornly, meeting his stony gaze in wordless challenge until Hinata chuckled softly.

"Hey now, no need to get so riled up right off the bat!" he interjected placatingly, hands raised in mock surrender. "I was just messing around, [Y/N]. We're all friends here, right?"

You opened your mouth to retort, but faltered at the heated undertone of his words and the sly wink accompanying them. Kenma scoffed loudly then, scowl deepening as his focus swiveled to pin Hinata with an exasperated glare that promised retribution.

"Don't even try it, old man," your dad growled with an almost protective edge. "My daughter isn't one of those groupies constantly throwing themselves at your feet back in Rio, understand?"

Hinata laughed again, completely unbothered as he angled that hulking frame forward. His shirt rode up obscenely, revealing a tantalizing strip of tanned, toned abdomen you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from despite your best efforts.

"Easy, Kenma!" Hinata rumbled, lush lips curved in a wicked grin that promised sweet sin. "I think it goes without saying that [Y/N] here is way out of an old beach bum's league. Was just messing around is all..."

He trailed off then, once more dragging his blatant perusal up the length of your body with liquid heat in his smoldering stare. You clenched your thighs instinctively, desire and outrage warring as your teeth dug into your lower lip to stifle any reactions.

The next few moments seemed to stretch into a thick, electrically-charged silence. You, your father, and Hinata simply regarding one another - the weight of unspoken tension and challenge thrumming through the air with every weighted pause. Until finally, you broke it by clearing your throat and stepping forward.

"Well, I brought the tea you wanted," you announced airily, like nothing untoward had just happened. "Then I'll be going to my room if you two want to keep reminiscing about the good old days."

"[Y/N]..." your dad started in a tone of clear warning, eyes narrowing as you stepped past their tangle of limbs on the couch to set the tray on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about it," Hinata interjected smoothly, rising to his towering height with languid, boneless grace you tried not to notice. "Your old Uncle Shoyo is probably overstaying his welcome as it is tonight."

He cast you one final, heated look from beneath lowered lashes, expression utterly inscrutable beyond the banked hunger simmering there. Then without another word, he turned and prowled towards the guest bedroom in a loose-limbed lope you tried desperately not to track too closely.

Only once his broad, muscular back disappeared from view did you let out a shaky breath. Kenma remained seated on the couch, radiating a silent but palpable displeasure and glaring accusation you refused to acknowledge directly.

So instead, you strode forward and leaned down to press a chaste peck to his cheek while avoiding eye contact entirely. "Goodnight, Dad. I'll see you in the morning."

Then before he could respond or break the tension hanging thick in the air, you spun on your heel and hurried to the sanctuary of your bedroom - every molecule buzzing with the unsettled aftershocks of Hinata's disarming presence so near.

Because as much as you tried to deny or bury it, his raw masculine vitality and promise of unshackled experience called to you on a primal, instinctual level. Echoing through your thundering pulse in a siren song of temptation you knew could only lead to utter ruination in its wake if you let your guard down...but that seemed increasingly inevitable with each passing second.

The next morning, you shuffled out of your bedroom in rumpled pajamas and messy bedhead, stifling a yawn. The memory of Hinata's unexpected arrival had already begun to fade into a vivid but surreal blur against the slate of your drowsy morning routine.

At least, until you rounded the corner into the kitchen and pulled up short with a sharp inhale. There stood the man himself - tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly shirtless, giving you an unobstructed view of his chiseled back flexing as he rummaged through your cabinets.

You felt your mouth go abruptly dry, gaze riveted to the tantalizing vee of muscle trailing down from his sculpted shoulders, dipping into the waistband of those low-slung sweatpants hugging his hips enticingly. Each subtle shift and roll of his powerful frame drew your hungry stare, unable to look away.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Hinata rumbled without turning around, as if sensing your presence instinctively. "Your dad said he had some company stuff to deal with early, so he stuck me with babysitting duty for now."

You blinked dazedly for a beat, still struggling to reconcile this morning vision of masculine glory before you. The crisp auburn hair tousled by sleep, the enticing glide of defined musculature shifting beneath tanned skin, the shameless confidence radiating off him in delicious waves...

Clearing your throat, you finally managed to find your voice around the lump of arousal lodged there. "I hardly need a babysitter, old man," you drawled in what you hoped sounded nonchalant. "Especially not from family friends who look closer to collecting social security than—"

Hinata finally turned then, bracing one hip against the counter and propping his arms behind him as those molten amber eyes swept over your body from head to toe in a single scorching appraisal. Your breath hitched at the lingering heat dripping off the heated rumble of his next words.

"Watch that smart mouth of yours before it really does get you into trouble, sweetheart," he crooned, lips curved into a wicked smirk that bordered on indecent promise. "You really think your dad asked me to stick around and play nice this morning?"

Despite your best efforts, your traitorous gaze couldn't help but skate over every taut line and definition of his exposed torso shamelessly. The crisp trail of auburn hair disappearing beneath those sweatpants seemed like an insistent beacon, taunting your curiosity.

Clearing your throat again, you forced your attention to the half-chopped produce on the kitchen island. With slightly shaky movements, you grabbed a knife and began working on the remaining ingredients to distract yourself from the living sexual fantasy just a few feet away.

"Well considering he pays the bills around here," you tossed out as breezily as possible, still not meeting Uncle Shoyo's stare directly. "I think it's pretty safe to assume your role this morning is closer to the 'creepy uncle nobody likes' end of the spectrum."

A low chuckle reverberated through the open kitchen, low and syrupy in a way that made your heart stutter. You risked a glance over to find Hinata's eyes utterly fixated on you now – devouring your every move as you brandished the sharp knife with utterly rapt interest.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin," he purred, shifting his stance subtly to cross one sinewy arm over his abdomen in a way that made all those flexing ridges pop in sinful definition. "But I gotta warn you, your little jabs don't exactly have the effect you think on me..."

Your mouth went bone dry once more as he raked that brazen stare over your sleep-tousled bedhead next, unruly mop and all. Then those full lips quirked in a way that made you want to simultaneously combust and punch him right in that shameless mouth.

"In fact, they kinda just make me want to bend you over this counter and teach you some proper manners until you're begging for mercy all night, sweetheart."

You almost missed the suggestive lilt at the end, abruptly choking as his words slammed into you like a physical force. The knife slipped in your grip slicing neatly into your thumb as a startled yelp punched its way free.

"Shit!" you hissed, sucking the shallow graze instinctively only to see a few glistening beads of crimson well forth.

"Whoa there, easy!" Suddenly Hinata was crowding into your space without any warning, large hand closing over yours to inspect the damage with surprising tenderness. "Let me take a look at that, [Y/N]."

Before you could respond, Hinata's hand was coaxing yours up towards those full lips with intent simmering in those hooded embers. You watched in stunned silence as his tongue darted out to swipe over the tiny wound in one long, heated glide—only to suck your thumb directly into the wet heat of his mouth with a low groan of apparent satisfaction.

Every muscle in your body instantly seized up at the erotic massage of his tongue swirling deliberately around the pad in a sensual slide. Watching those sharp cheekbones hollow with each languid pull, you felt the throb between your legs intensify to an almost painful ache of pure, thwarted need. But you seemed incapable of looking away, utterly transfixed.

Uncle Shoyo maintained searing eye contact as his dexterous tongue swiped over every nuance of your thumb with devoted reverence, chasing every copper tinge hungrily. Then with one final swirl that made you stifle a desperate whimper, he slowly released the digit from captivity with a harsh exhale – eyeing your swollen lips with naked hunger as a slick trail of saliva clung between you in an obscene string.

"Be careful now, beautiful," he rumbled in that deep, gravelly timbre that sank talons into your very core. His gaze scorched over your body once more as he stepped back slowly and ambled back towards the exit without a backwards glance. "I'd hate to have to really punish you next time if you keep taunting me like this..."

Then he was gone, leaving you standing there bereft and throbbing deliriously with frustrated longing in the empty kitchen. Because you knew deep down the provocative Uncle had just issued point-blank challenge and promise: that this was only the opening gambit in his heated pursuit, and he had zero intentions of backing down until you'd been claimed utterly.

Unable to resist any longer, you slumped back against the counter on trembling legs and slid one hand between your thighs with a desperate keen – already picturing Hinata's smoldering mug as you sought frantic release in his smoldering wake. Because despite your best efforts, you were now officially hooked on indulging in the forbidden byproducts of his unshackled virility – no matter how dangerous or ruinous the ultimate destination...

You barely made it back to your bedroom before collapsing against the door, legs trembling violently as the aftershocks of Uncle Shoyo's brazen stunt continued ricocheting through your veins. A whimper punched free as your thighs clenched instinctively, the memory of his ravenous stare haunting you as he slowly, purposefully released your thumb from captivity.

Heat coiled molten and liquid in your belly as you palmed your breasts roughly through the thin cotton tanks, thumbing over rapidly pebbling nipples. Squeezing your eyes shut, you could practically feel Hinata's searing presence looming over you once more - massive palms engulfing your curves as his calloused fingertips teased sensitive flesh with maddening patience...

Before you could surrender fully to fantasy's sweet oblivion, however, a strange urge gripped you. Almost frantic, you shed your rumpled pajamas and quickly rushed to the shower to freshen up before you busied yourself rummaging through your dresser and closet for a fresh dress to change into. You needed to get out of this house, away from the lingering fog of temptation still swirling thick and cloying after such an intimate morning encounter. At least for a little while...

Finally settling on a soft, breezy yellow sundress, you slipped it on hastily and attempted to secure the back tie yourself. But after several frustrating attempts, you realized with an inward groan that the ribbons were too tangled.

"Dammit..." you huffed under your breath, smoothing the front over your hips with rigid motions. You swept your gaze towards the vanity mirror, preparing to just gather your hair over one shoulder and let it hang for now.

The delicious expanse of tanned skin and flexing muscle that greeted you instead nearly sent you crashing to your knees with a dismayed cry.

There, leaning one broad shoulder against the doorframe and utterly at ease, stood Shoyo in nothing but those obscenely slung sweatpants riding sinfully low on his chiseled hips. Streaks of early morning sunlight gilded every defined ridge and hollow of his upper body in buttery warmth, licking over flaring biceps and the mouthwatering trail of auburn hair trailing temptingly beneath the loose waistband.

"You look like you could use a hand there," Hinata rumbled in that smoky baritone you were quickly growing addicted to hearing. Those molten eyes found yours in the mirror with delicious weight, smoldering openly now rather than even attempting to conceal the naked provocation simmering behind his heavy-lidded stare.

Despite the sudden lurch of panic kicking your heart into overdrive, you couldn't quite seem to tear your gaze from his inviting reflection hovering behind you. Drinking in the indolent sprawl of that powerful frame radiating unchecked masculinity and quiet dominion - like a supreme hunter casually awaiting its hapless prey's next stumbling move on instinct.

You swallowed hard but held his smoldering stare steadily, refusing to falter or acknowledge the way your nipples tightened beneath the silken fabric. Despite having watched on breathlessly while Hinata lapped at your thumb, relishing the debauched slide of his tongue over your heated flesh...something about his supreme confidence sprawled behind you now made it abundantly clear he could and would ruin any last vestiges of innocence left within you given half a chance.

"Just stay right there and let me get that for you, babygirl," Hinata purred in a low rasp that raised goosebumps rippling over your exposed arms and back.

Before you could so much as open your mouth to respond, he was slinking closer with that same predatory, liquid grace you'd witnessed in glimpses during the party last night. The air around you seemed to crackle and sing with electricity, only mounting higher as Shoyo's physical presence blotted out every other consideration entirely.

You held yourself utterly still as those large, calloused palms seared lines of blissful rapture wherever they grazed over your shoulders and waist from behind. Hinata deliberately braced one broad palm across your abdomen, exerting the barest hint of insistent pressure to pull your curves flush against his powerful torso in a silken slide you felt all the way to your molten core.

"You smell..." he growled thickly by your ear, breath fanning hot and teasing over the racing pulse in your throat as his free hand set about loosening the tangled ties at your back. "...like temptation itself, you naughty little thing..."

A piteous keen slipped free as Hinata's questing fingers completed their task, leaving the ribbons hanging undone as his palms skated back up to clasp your hips in a punishing, possessive vise. Those scorching pads scorched searing brands over the indentations of your hips, pulling you even harder against the intractable ridge of his cock notching between your trembling thighs in a single, uncompromising move.

Your lashes fluttered as the delicious pressure radiated white hot sparks dancing across your vision, mouth falling open around a shuddering exhale of helpless rapture. In the mirror, Hinata's eyes found yours swimming with naked hunger – the simmering embers of whatever tinder sparked between you last night rendered a roaring furnace in the wake of this morning's torrid duel.

"You gonna keep tempting me like this, pretty girl?" Hinata husked in a gravelly rasp dripping with promise and lingering challenge. "Or do you finally have the good sense to run now before you really earn yourself that punishment you've been courting so hard after...?"

With one final squeeze of warning that made your core spasm with empty ache, he slowly eased away and turned to saunter out of the bedroom without another word. You watched him retreat through the mirror's unforgiving reflection - powerless to do anything but gape and tremble wretchedly as the fog of his surroundings presence dissipated incrementally.

Yet this time, rather than any shaky sense of relief, you found your chest heaving with frustrated desperation and need. Because thanks to Uncle Shoyo's heated morning indulgence, you discovered an agonizing new truth:

You didn't just crave sampling the forbidden delights of his singular experience unfolding before you.

No, you utterly ached to immolate yourself completely in the smoldering rapture only he could bestow through sweet, rapturous ecstasy....or hellfire oblivion – so long as you drifted within orbit of his radiant intensity from this moment onward.

Some time later, you finally emerged from your bedroom in a dazed stupor - only to very nearly collide with your father striding up the main hallway towards you. Kenma pulled up short with a frown tugging at his features as his assessing gaze raked over your flushed, tousled state, and the frown deepened pointedly.

"Everything okay, [Y/N]?" he asked in that careful deadpan you knew meant a veiled accusation lurked beneath.

You shook your head in a vain attempt to clear the lingering afterglow clinging from your encounter with Hinata, tugging at the hem of your sundress self-consciously. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? I was just getting ready to go grab some fresh air—"

"Ah." The single syllable came clipped and flat from your father's otherwise impassive expression.

Several fraught heartbeats ticked by in heavy silence before Kenma shifted forward – not quite blocking your path, but radiating an undeniable command for your full, tempered attention nonetheless.

"Going somewhere with my old friend in tow, I take it?" His assessing stare remained level and unreadable save for the undercurrent of warning you recognized all too viscerally from childhood. "I thought we might have a... discussion about setting some ground rules first concerning his company here, [Y/N]."

Despite your frustration spiking anew at his paternal insinuations, you felt a hot flush of shame creeping up your throat. Try as you might, you couldn't meet your father's gaze directly as your mind flashed back in vivid relief to the exhilarating yet illicit thrill of Shoyo's sheer presence looming over you just minutes ago.

Seeming to sense your lack of response, Kenma finally allowed the first cracks to shudder across his typically stoic facade with a weary sigh.

"Look, ...your Uncle Shoyo might still joke and carry that same sunshine-kid energy as back then," he started evenly. "But the reality is he's still a grown man now, with...certain appetites and lack of restraint Hinata's always struggled with at times."

He paused to pin you with a searching, almost beseeching look that somehow made you feel even smaller and more transparent in his presence.

"I'm not saying to stay away from him entirely while he's staying here," Kenma went on more softly. "I remember how much you adored him back when you were little, and that bond means the world to him still."

He shifted closer then, reaching out to brush your disheveled hair aside with a tender yet firm touch that compelled your chin upwards instinctively.

"But I need you to understand that regardless of your...curiosities, your Uncle Shoyo inhabits a vastly different world of adult experience than anything you've had yet, sweetheart. One wrong seed planted could veer things down a dangerous path leading to hurt for everyone."

You shivered despite the gentle warmth and fondness radiating from your father in that infinitely precious moment. Because you recognized the stark sincerity behind his warning, and couldn't necessarily refute its validity after staring down the ravenous, unshackled hunger radiating from Uncle Shoyo's very presence earlier.

Still, even as you nodded mutely in acquiescence, a reckless splinter of thrill lanced through your core. Because now, having glimpsed the erotically-charged path being laid out before you both, you felt all the more determined to keep tumbling headlong and heedless into whatever deliciously ruinous aftermath awaited. No matter the cost or lasting implications...

The sudden, unexpected warmth of Kenma's hand cradling your cheek brought your awareness spiraling back sharply. Before you could quite process what was happening, he'd leaned down and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss against your forehead – just above the crease between your brows.

"Be smart, [Y/N]," he murmured gruffly against your hairline, eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "And be back before curfew tonight too, you hear me? No exceptions this time."

Then he was brushing past you towards the front door, thick quiet settling in his wake like physical fog as you remained rooted to the spot. Utterly reeling between the rapidly conflicting currents of exhilarating temptation...and warning stark enough to make even your rebellious core quake in trepidation despite your best efforts otherwise.

You spent the day out with your friends, attempting and mostly failing to clear your head of the heated memories from this morning's encounter with Hinata. No matter where you went or what activity you immersed yourself in, phantom wisps of his smoky presence and provocative words lingered like an intoxicating fog.

On one hand, the lively chatter and antics provided a much-needed distraction from replaying his heated bedroom encounter over and over.

But on the other, your mind seemed to grind to a screeching halt anytime the conversation veered towards your houseguest's identity. Which, given how famous Shoyo Hinata remained in sporting circles thanks to his legendary athletic career, happened far more frequently than you were prepared for.

"Wait, wait...are you seriously telling me the Ninja Shoyo himself is crashing at your place right now?!" Mari, your most relentlessly thirsty friend, practically screeched after some sly prompting from the others.

You shot her a withering glare and mouthed for her to shut up even as the rest of the group devolved into giggles and raucous speculation over whether the confirmed bachelor was as virile and charismatic in-person as rumored.

"Oh come on, [Y/N]!" Aiko wheedled between bites of her burger, dark eyes gleaming mischievously. "You can't just dangle that kind of forbidden fruit in front of us and not expect us to beg for the details!"

Chewing your lip in embarrassed silence, you tried to tune out the rising din of increasingly risqué jokes and pleas to get them invited over for an audience with the legendary Hinata Shoyo. Phantom echoes of his deep, smoky rumble and intoxicating scent seemed to cling to the edges of your consciousness no matter how hard you tried shoving them away.

"At least get us a signed photo if you end up too chicken to let us meet him in person, you miserly brat!" Mari tacked on with a mock glare. "That'll be the closest I ever get to seeing total sex-on-legs unless I end up a cougar!"

Their laughter rolled on undeterred as you hunched further over your meal, cheeks burning and belly clenching with resurgent heat that had nothing to do with the food. Squeezing your thighs together surreptitiously only offered a momentary respite from the low, pulsing ache - one you tried studiously ignoring as well.

"Look, are you all done gawking and gossiping like vultures?" you sighed in fond resignation. "Because let's just say that if you met him properly, you'd realize my uncle is way out of all your horny little leagues..."

A fresh wave of cackling and raucous giggling met your faux-dismissive quip, spurring you to stand and begin making your excuses for the evening. Because despite your best efforts, you could already feel that reckless splinter of need and anticipation resurfacing in your gut at the prospect of returning home to your father...and his houseguest.

So you deflected the suggestive teasing and crude demands to invite Shoyo out properly, firmly refusing to think too hard on why the thought of sharing any part of Shoyo gave you pause. On some deep, instinctual level, you were rapidly becoming consumed by the urge to keep his unbound presence all to yourself from this point on out. Regardless of innocence or ruination that inevitably awaited in his merciless wake.

By the time you reached your neighborhood streets, the crisp night air helped settle your determination somewhat. One last chance to sidestep and avoid tumbling any further down whatever rabbit hole of depravity Hinata seemed intent on leading you both...

But then your apartment building's modest facade loomed into view with the lights still glowing in the windows, and you felt a strange gravitational lurch in your core. Like being reeled inexorably back towards the inescapable flames of illicit temptation despite your best efforts otherwise.

When you reached the front door and paused to let your pulse steady, the subdued sounds of a movie playing somewhere within gave you momentary pause. Maybe your dad was simply unwinding alone – granting you an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed and steer clear of potential pitfalls for tonight at least?

Only as your hand closed over the knob and you pushed the door open a crack, the rich timbre of Hinata's voice reached your ears – gruff and unmistakable in the entryway's dimness.

"Well well, look who finally decided to come back!" he called out in mocking tones. "Your poor old uncle was starting to think maybe you'd slunk off for greener pastures tonight after our fun little morning together earlier."

You froze in place with your heart abruptly lodged in your throat, berating yourself for not simply fleeing in the opposite direction while you still had the chance. But like a moth drawn to flame, you found yourself drifting further inside until the living room came into view.

There sat Shoyo, lounging at ease on the middle sofa cushion with one powerful arm slung along the backrest in apparent comfort. Weirdly, a blanket was draped across his lap – though you found your gaze drifting over the exposed vee of his shirt and every flexing cord of that tanned bicep with reflexive hunger before you wrestled your focus away again.

But it was the other person sitting opposite that really made your heart plummet into your stomach with dread. Your dad, Kenma, sat slouched in his usual armchair – dark eyes trained on the television with characteristic stoicism as he took in whatever movie was playing.

"Evening, [Y/N]," he spoke up evenly without glancing over. "Good timing – Shoyo and I were actually just thinking about putting on another film if you're interested in joining us?"

You opened your mouth, mind racing as you sought some reasonable excuse to demure and retreat to the safety of your bedroom. But before you could formulate a single syllable, Hinata had straightened upright on the sofa and fixed you with those smoldering amber eyes burning through the dimness.

"Actually, you know what?" he rumbled in that gravelly baritone that made your thighs clench reflexively. "I had something better in mind than another boring flick..."

Despite your sinking feeling worsening by the second, you watched helplessly as Uncle Shoyo rearranged the blanket pooled across his lap...then patted the cushion beside him in an exaggerated motion that would've been comically exaggerated in any other circumstance.

"Why don't you bring that cute little butt of yours over here and make yourself comfy next to your favorite uncle for this next one, hmm?" he purred, not even trying to disguise the open insolence and provocation dripping from his every word. "We can kick back...you can cozy up right here where I can keep an eye on you staying out of trouble like a good girl..."

The blatant, unrepentant innuendo left zero ambiguity over his true intentions. Despite your best efforts to shore up your beleaguered senses, you felt your face flushing hotly and palms growing damp with visceral thrill racing in your veins. Because no matter how stern your father's earlier warnings had been...this was Uncle Shoyo boldly commencing his dogged pursuit anew right out in the open.

You shifted uncertainly on your feet for a moment, caught between Shoyo's provocative invitation and the mounting tension radiating off your dad beside him. The living room suddenly felt unbearably charged, rife with unspoken challenges and wordless dares testing the fraying threads of propriety permeating the air.

Just as you opened your mouth, still grasping for some semblance of stable footing, Kenma's measured baritone cut through the hush with deceptive mildness.

"Actually, [Y/N], why don't you go ahead and get changed into something more comfortable first?" he suggested without tearing his gaze from the television screen. "No sense being all dressed up if we're just lounging around and catching up on crappy movies together."

The pointed emphasis on that last part hinted at unspoken layers simmering just beneath the surface of your dad's composed demeanor. You darted a fraught look between both men, but Kenma steadfastly refused to meet your gaze while Hinata...

Well, Hinata simply sat back with that same searing intensity blazing from his heavy-lidded eyes, lips quirked in the barest hint of a self-satisfied smirk you already recognized meant danger. Despite the veneer of this wholesome father-daughter scene being painted before you, the undeniable insinuation of his unabashed perusal made you clench your thighs together instinctively.

"You heard the man," he rumbled, syrupy timbre dripping with implicit promise. Uncle Shoyo's tongue dragged over his lower lip with exquisite leisure, drawing your rapt focus there like a moth to flame. "Don't keep your favorite uncle waiting too long now, sweet girl..."

Kenma shifted infinitesimally then, casting a weighted look of silent warning in Hinata's direction before your dad finally relented and turned towards you fully. Despite the careful blankness written over his features, something simmered and roiled in those pale, flinty depths when he held your gaze with quiet gravity.

"Take your time," was all he murmured with clear emphasis, expression giving nothing away.

You felt distinctly as if you were being weighed and measured against forces rapidly spiraling beyond your ability to anticipate or control. Despite the mounting vertigo gripping your senses, leaving you adrift, a spark of reckless determination lanced through the fog.

With a tight nod, you drew a fortifying breath and spun on your heel without a backwards glance – stoically ignoring the heated undercurrents still crackling along your exposed nape from Hinata's ravenous scrutiny. This morning may have shattered the last vestiges of innocence ushering you along a dangerous precipice with Hinata...

But tonight, some primal instinct whispered darkly, tonight you were well and truly teetering upon that razor's edge with nowhere to go but fully losing yourself to the sweet, ruinous oblivion now inevitable on the other side.

The rote motions of changing into a loose cotton sleep set blurred into a trance-like haze as you moved through your bedroom mechanically. Every nerve was hyper-tuned for more veiled warnings, another blazing gauntlet thrown down anew to tempt or dismay you from your unraveling trajectory.

But deep down, you understood the futility in feigning obliviousness any longer. Not after Hinata had plunged you into the rapturous crucible with his touch, his taste, his ravenous gaze marking you in a way that could never be unmade or forgotten henceforth.

All that remained was answering the final summons echoing amidst your thundering pulse with honesty...and letting the aftermath of indulgence or consequences tear you both asunder into oblivion if need be.

So when you re-emerged from your bedroom in a fresh white ribbed tanks clinging to your curves and miniscule sleep shorts leaving little to imagination, you met Shoyo's searing amber stare levelly. His broad chest expanded fractionally around a harsh inhale, swirling embers of naked desire and insatiable longing burning behind those hooded eyes clear as day.

Even as you made your way closer, edging around the coffee table until within arm's reach of the back of the sofa where he reclined awaiting you, you refused to falter. The indolent sprawl of Hinata's powerful, chiseled form seemed utterly at odds with the palpable, carnivorous threat radiating off him now in molten waves.

You paused there, petrified beneath that searing, loaded stare raking over every bare inch of your silhouette without a shred of shame or restraint. After several suspended heartbeats dripping with escalating tension, Uncle Shoyo shifted imperceptibly. His free hand dragging the blanket aside to reveal bunched sweatpants and a blatantly obscene tenting of the fabric that made your mouth go bone dry around a whimper.

"That'll do just fine," he rasped in a guttural rasp that sent a frisson of electric heat spearing between your clenching thighs. One calloused fingertip crooked lazily, beckoning you closer with arrogant expectation gleaming from his heavy-lidded gaze. "Now get that sweet ass over here where I can keep you close and out've trouble beside me, pretty girl..."

Twin jolts of panic and exhilarating arousal lanced through you simultaneously at the naked provocation. Because even filtered through the dim lighting, you glimpsed the engorged shape promised beneath the thin material and knew without doubt what sort of wanton claiming Uncle Shoyo had in mind for you tonight.

Yet despite the adrenaline screaming through every cell, fueling your instinctive urge to flee, you felt an even deeper, more primal compulsion tugging you inexorably forward until your senses were bathed in his smoky, alluring presence. Hinata radiated unshakable dominion and leashed force, even slouched indolently before you like a serpent coiled to strike at any moment.

"Sho..."

The single hoarse syllable of warning hissed from behind made you flinch despite yourself. You whipped your head to find Kenma staring at the both of you with a stern, paternal gaze - everything about his rigid posture radiating the quiet yet firm protectiveness you recognized so viscerally.

Rather than match your father's intensity head-on, however, Hinata simply exhaled a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the charged space between you in a delicious rasp. You watched, utterly transfixed, as he straightened up and shifted the blanket aside in one fluid movement.

"Easy there, Kenma," he rumbled with that infuriatingly roguish half-smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "You know me better than that. I'm not about to go tarnishing this homecoming and ruin my chances at more of your lovely daughter's..." His gaze raked over you with blatant heat. "...delightful company while I'm in town."

Despite the distinctly provocative undercurrent still simmering in his tone, Hinata seemed to deliberately soften the edges in a show of placation towards your father. You felt the simmering tension ebbing incrementally even as fresh exasperation flickered behind Kenma's carefully schooled expression.

"For old time's sake, fine," your dad relented at last through gritted teeth. His pale eyes found yours with weighted meaning etched into the stony planes of his visage. "But one more toe across any line here, Shoyo, and you're out on your ass before your old bones can even try spinning another excuse. [Y/N] isn't some naive little girl anymore, either."

The naked warning laced beneath that last softly uttered statement wasn't lost on either of you. Logically, you knew Kenma was trying to shield you from potential hurt or missteps in whatever unspoken exchange unfolded before you. But at the same time, you bristled instinctively at the implication you required such explicit paternal protections - no matter how well-intentioned.

Before you could unpack the bristling mixture of gratitude and indignant frustration any further, however, Hinata cleared his throat meaningfully. When your focus snapped back towards him, he simply crooked one finger in a beckoning 'come hither' gesture that raised your hackles anew despite the clear invitation tingeing his amber gaze with yearning heat.

"Well? C'mere and park that sweet little butt already, kiddo," he rasped, patting the couch cushion beside him once more with exaggerated insistence. "Promise to keep my hands where you can see 'em for now if that'll ease your dad's worries some..."

The blatant implication behind his easy words and rumbling timbre was not lost on you in the slightest. Kenma shifted in his armchair with a weighted sigh somewhere between exasperation and fond resignation you recognized all too well. He was placating Shoyo's incorrigible provocations for the moment - not out of obliviousness, but rather mindfulness of allowing both of you a fragile pretense to navigate whatever inevitability loomed ahead.

So you exhaled a steadying breath and made your way across the living room without faltering any further. Despite the scorching simmer radiating from Shoyo's simmering mug as he tracked your approach with utterly unabashed hunger, there remained an undeniable flicker of warmth and tenderness burning behind the primal furnace in those rich depths you'd come to crave. Reassurance and promise alike, vowing he had no intentions of treading upon the sacred boundaries of your father's trust without permission first.

Instead of claiming the cushion directly beside him as originally beckoned, however, you settled primly on the outer edge of the opposite side. Leaving a respectable yet still charged gulf between your forms that both men seemed to silently recognize without verbal acknowledgement. Kenma grunted something unintelligible but otherwise maintained his silence as the weight of expectant tension clung to the air like humid fog. For his part, Hinata’s nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as he drank in this fresh recalibration through hooded eyes - once more adjusting his restless body language until every coiled inch radiated perfect nonchalance and ease despite the undercurrent still humming between you both like a plucked string.

"Well alright then," he husked out at last once satisfying whatever internal calculations measured your positioning as acceptable - for now. "How 'bout I kick us off with something a little light to set the proper mood before getting into the heavy stuff, huh?"

Kenma exhaled an audible scoff as Shoyo thumbed the remote, queuing up some random movie or TV show with practiced ease while slinging one arm over the back of the couch cushions in an artless sprawl. Pointedly avoiding fixing you with any further heated looks, but leaving little ambiguity how aware he remained of your presence like a physical magnetized force beside him.

You swallowed hard despite yourself, painfully conscious of every tantalizing inch between your bodies and the delicious masculine presence rolling off Hinata in waves once more. He may have dialed back the overt provocation for the moment...but that inexorable undercurrent still thrummed with blistering promise of the untamed pleasures lying in wait should you falter further into his orbit tonight.

Almost against your will, electricity zinged along your nerves with each subtle shift and adjustment of his powerful frame beside you. Muscles flexing, fabric straining obscenely over the rigid outline of his cock bunching the sweatpants in teasing hints of his devastating endowment. You squeezed your thighs together hard enough to feel the dig of your nails embedding crescents into your palms, warring desperately with the reckless compulsion to simply throw yourself over his lap without shame or hesitation and indulge whatever incendiary rapture could be had here and now while within reach.

When Shoyo finally settled back fully with a contented grunt, you risked a sidelong glance and immediately felt your breath catch at the heated smolder awaiting you from those heavy-lidded amber depths. His tongue flicked over that full lower lip in a slow, indulgent glide that punched the breath from your lungs before Hinata even rumbled a single syllable.

"Just making myself comfy too, little minx," he murmured in that low, liquid rasp drenched with sinful promise despite his guileless expression. You shuddered despite your best efforts as his gaze dragged over every inch of you shamelessly before fixing on your parted lips with ravenous focus. "No need to go getting all worked up on me...not until we're good and ready to really blow off some of that tension proper, that is."

Your mouth went bone dry as his blatant implication crashed over you in molten waves, stoking the already swirling embers suffusing your limbs and core alike into wildfire ecstasy despite your best efforts. Yet before you could muster even a token protest, Shoyo quirked that same wicked half-smirk of his and deliberately settled back to focus on the film playing out before you.

For a merciful stretch, the only sounds permeating the dim living room came from the television's muted dialogue and occasional commentary muttered between your dad and Uncle Shoyo. You sank further into the plush cushions, knees pulled up to your chest in a subconscious show of self-preservation from the magnetic force radiating off Hinata's form beside you.

Despite his surface placidity now that the films were rolling, you could practically feel the heated undercurrent of his focus sweeping over you in lingering, liquid caresses – drinking you in from the corner of his vision like a serpent savoring its lure. The same leashed intensity and dominance promising utter rapture in the right circumstances from the very marrow of his bones.

You shivered despite the warmth of the room, senses still humming from his earlier provocations and insinuations sizzling in memory. The fleeting image of his thick, mouthwatering cock tenting the front of those sweats flickered behind your lids with maddening clarity. Stoking the delirious compulsion to reach out and caress, grip, indulge the intoxicating mysteries promised beneath with shameless abandon—

Just as you felt your restraint slipping further towards cataclysmic surrender, the unmistakable weight of Hinata's palm settled over your kneecap with searing possession. You flinched bodily but remained rooted in place, breath catching in your throat despite your best efforts.

"Easy, kiddo," he rumbled without shifting his gaze from the screen, somehow pitching his smoky undertones low enough to avoid disturbing Kenma's engrossed state. "You're looking a little tense over there...lemme help you loosen up, hmm?"

With maddening leisure, Hinata's large palm began smoothing up the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh with heavy insistence. You bit back the whimpering keen that immediately welled up, casting a wild glance between your dad's oblivious form and the man openly caressing your bare flesh so brazenly now. Yet not a flicker of reaction showed in Hinata's cool countenance apart from the subtle curve of that infuriating half-smirk ghosting his chiseled profile in the dim lighting.

You squeezed your eyes shut and fought for some semblance of composure as those rough, calloused fingertips mapped higher over your straining hamstrings. The unbearable heat of Hinata's touch seared lines of rapturous bliss through your veins with every teasing inch relinquished until you felt his knuckles graze the hem of your minuscule shorts threateningly.

Just when you thought you might vibrate out of your own skin from the maddening denial coupled with raw primal need, Hinata suddenly withdrew his hand from between your trembling thighs. You risked a single wild peek towards those simmering amber eyes, mouth parted around a desperate plea, only to suck in a harsh breath.

Because Hinata was already twisting upright on the cushion, seemingly ready to rise and depart your coiled position after reducing you to a melted puddle of longing desire. Before you could summon even a meager syllable of reproach, however, his powerful frame angled fully towards you and those devilish eyes trapped you utterly beneath their hooded, Scorching Gaze.

"Have a good night, sweet girl," Hinata husked with sinful roughness that made your core clench deliriously. In one dizzying blur, he dipped down to ghost his lips over your tingling, parted mouth in a blistering almost-caress brimming with unbearable erotic promise. "Try and get some rest after that little warm-up session...because you and I both know I'm nowhere near done indulging my sweet tooth for you proper yet, baby."

Just like that, he straightened up and sauntered from the living room before you could even hope to recover from his relentless provocations. Leaving your reeling in his smoldering wake, swaying dazedly from the delirious whiplash of rapture and untamed yearning still ricocheting through your veins like molten lightning.

When you finally mustered the wherewithal to meet your father's gaze once more, Kenma pinned you with an inscrutable look from across the quiet space. For several fraught heartbeats, neither of you spoke or moved a muscle – hovering on the periphery of whatever unspoken undercurrent now shuddered between you in the aftermath of Hinata's brash moves tonight.

"You should go on up to bed, [Y/N]," he finally rumbled evenly, features schooled into a careful blankness you knew better than to mistake for complacency. "There's no need for you to get further tangled up with whatever your uncle is trying to play at here tonight, kiddo. Get some rest while you still can."

Despite the searing weight behind his words, Kenma refused to meet your questioning stare directly. Almost as if he already knew precisely where your treacherous thoughts ultimately lay in the wake of Hinata's scorching ministrations...and wished to avoid acknowledging the truth staring you both in the face any longer.

Because in the end, you realized with fresh crestfallen resignation, your dad would never fully reckon with the gravity of what Hinata was igniting between you – much less grant tacit approval to see where the smoldering ashes might lead henceforth. Even if it meant witnessing you surrender yourself over to devouring rapture entirely and without reservation from this moment onward...

Over the next few days, Shoyo seemed to revel in keeping you teetering perpetually on the edge of sheer frustration and desperate arousal. Whenever the two of you found yourselves alone, whether briefly in passing or for snatched interludes, he radiated casual nonchalance and ease.

Yet his every glance, murmur, or teasing brush against your side dripped with the same primal undercurrent of restrained hunger simmering just beneath. You quickly discovered Hinata possessed a diabolical talent for igniting your senses into overdrive with little more than a heated look or suggestive comment virtually imperceptible to any casual observer.

He'd catch you off-guard in the kitchen with that smoldering gaze dragging over your body with open appraisal before rasping some ostensibly innocent quip about needing to "cool off" that made your thighs clench instinctively. Or fold his large, calloused hands around your hips from behind while reaching for something overhead - the scorching bulk of his chiseled frame molding against your backside in a delicious grind before withdrawing as casually as if nothing untoward occurred.

More maddening still were the heated glances and subtle lip-licking gestures Hinata indulged whenever your paths crossed in random hallways. His tongue would drag over those plush lips with exaggerated leisure, hooded gaze promising rapturous sin as you fought not to squirm like a prize filly on display.

Sometimes you wondered if the expert teasing was intended as punishment for not surrendering fully to his rapacious desires that first night. Other times, the agonizing compulsion to fling yourself bodily at Uncle Shoyo and beg for release became so overpowering you found every shred of self-control straining not to give in.

And through it all, your dad remained oblivious - too preoccupied with long work hours down at his office to pick up on the delirious tension humming between you and his houseguest. Leaving you utterly unguarded to endure Hinata's shameless flirtations and provocations without interference, until the entire apartment felt saturated in an erotic, static charge ready to detonate at any moment.

When Kenma did happen to be around, Hinata maintained a guileless facade of easy friendship and casual indifference around him. No hint of the lascivious teasing or ravenous heat frequently ignited whenever you two were alone. Leaving you silently reeling and doubting your ability to endure the breathless free-fall into either bliss or ruination promised in his molten stare much longer...

You tossed and turned restlessly in your bed that night, sheets tangling around your legs as you fought against the endless swirl of unbidden thoughts and desires tormenting your exhausted mind. No matter how you tried to clear your head or will your frazzled senses into oblivion, the same searing flashes kept replaying in vivid detail.

Shoyo's powerful frame looming over you, those intense amber eyes burning with naked hunger while calloused palms mapped every curve and hollow with insistent possession. The way his tongue would dart out and trace his full lips in a slow, taunting glide that made you ache with thwarted longing. That low, rumbling timbre swirling like dark velvet through your core whenever he rasped some molten insinuation dripping with sin...

You released a shuddering exhale into the stillness, sweat prickling along your nape and lower back as liquid need unfurled between your tightly clenched thighs yet again. Wetness seeped through the sparse fabric covering your overheated flesh, only fueling the delirious spiral towards capitulation threatening to unhinge your last vestiges of restraint entirely.

With an impatient huff, you shoved the tangled bedding aside and sat up - realizing that sleep, let alone any semblance of inner peace, was utterly forfeit tonight. Not while Hinata's intoxicating aura and tantalizing promise lurked within such maddeningly tempting reach under the same roof, catalyzing your deepest longings with effortless expertise.

Maybe retrieving a cold drink or nighttime snack would temporarily dull the scorching inferno smoldering through your limbs enough for coherent thought to prevail?

You slipped from your bedroom as quietly as possible, bare feet padding across the hallway towards the kitchen's dim glow. The silence reigned heavy and leaden, broken only by your shaky inhales and the muted hum of the refrigerator as you pulled it open with a soft creak.

Peering inside, you allowed the soothing chill to wash over you in waves while your eyes slipped closed blissfully for a precious handful of seconds. Some of the raw, reckless tension eased fractionally from the reprieve of chilly air ghosting over your sweat-damp skin and feverish nerves - at least until a quiet throat clearing shattered the fragile peace.

Your eyes flew wide, heart leaping into overdrive as a startled shriek lodged in your throat. Before it could tear free with enough force to wake the dead, a massive palm clapped firmly over your mouth while the other arm snaked around your midsection to immobilize you completely. The scorching planes of a powerful chest pressed flush against your back, swallowing you up in a masculine heat and presence so intoxicating, so overwhelmingly familiar that the fight instantly left your body in a boneless slump.

"Shhhh...hey, it's just me, kitten," Shoyo's husky rasp tickled the shell of your ear as he pulled you tight against his virile frame. Every syllable seemed to vibrate through you down to the delicious slide and flex his raw physicality shifting behind you with predatory grace. "Easy there, I'm not trying to scare you."

You managed a trembling nod against his broad palm, eyelids fluttering despite the rising current of panic and arousal sparking deliriously across your nerve endings. Gradually, Hinata eased the steel bands of his hold, allowing you to pivot and face him properly within the tight confines of his inescapable orbit.

There he loomed in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants hanging sinfully low on those chiseled hips, fresh from sleep by the looks of his tousled ginger thatch and drowsy bedroom eyes. You swallowed hard while drinking in the sight of his defined torso and powerful shoulders bracketing you - close enough for the humid puffs of his breathing to feather over your parted lips with every exhale.

"What are you doing prowling around at this hour, sweet girl?" he husked out, searching your flushed features with smoldering intensity you already knew was a precursor to much darker, breathless indulgences on the horizon. "Surely you weren't thinking of sneaking off without me again after our last little encounter?"

Your cheeks flushed hotly at the blatant insinuation, eyes darting down to the utterly obscene tenting of his pants now on full display without an ounce of shame or restraint. The thick ridge of his cock straining there seemed to twitch in delicious invitation, spurred by your hungry stare alone.

Your mouth went bone dry at the unbidden urges surging through you in roiling waves. The maddening temptation to simply sink to your knees and indulge your starving curiosity with lips, tongue...mouth yielding in utter obeisance flooded your every synapse without compunction now that opportunity knocked so brazenly.

Almost against your will, you found yourself inching incrementally closer until Hinata's smoldering presence utterly enveloped your overheated senses once more. The hunger, the scorching craving for just a taste of the forbidden pleasures he so unrepentantly dangled ever nearer soon blotted out every other earthly consideration beyond chasing oblivion through rapturous ruin entirely.

Just as you felt your restraint fraying to mere gossamer threads, Hinata cupped the nape of your neck in a searing brand while using his other hand to urge you backwards with insistent pressure. You remained frozen in place, utterly transfixed until his thumb lifted your chin upwards and those smoldering, hooded eyes captured yours in a mesmerizing trance.

"This isn't the time or place for that, baby," he growled thickly, the words rumbling through your core down to your drenched pussy between your quivering thighs in molten promise. "At least not until I've got you somewhere quieter...more private, hmm? Where I can really take my time ruining you by the end of this little midnight rendezvous..."

His calloused palm drifted lower to map the swell of your hip boldly before squeezing with exquisite possession. You arched helplessly into the delicious heat of his body pinning you against the fridge as Hinata continued rasping heated endearments over your feverish skin.

"I've half a mind to toss you over my shoulder and finally show you exactly what happens when you push a starving man's restraint too far like this..." His tongue darted out to blaze an electrifying path along the slender column of your throat, stoking the swirling embers into outright wildfire. "Have you screaming my name and begging to take every last fucking inch until you're left utterly wrecked and spent beneath me, sweet girl..."

You couldn't bite back the desperate whine that punched past your parted lips, even as you trembled in his unrelenting clutches and chills caressed your overheated skin from the open fridge. The aching vacancy between your clenching thighs throbbed mercilessly, liquid arousal flooding your pussy at each wanton promise slipping from Hinata's tongue.

Before you could summon the wherewithal to respond or surrender further into the rising tide of blissful rapture, Shoyo sighed heavily against your jawline. You felt the last fraying threads of tension suddenly ease incrementally from his uncompromising bulk confined behind you, until his palms smoothed over your hips in a gentle sweep.

"But I won't..." he murmured in that rumbling baritone somehow laced with the barest undercurrent of regret now. "Not without your full consent first, kiddo. That's the line I promised your dad I wouldn't cross..."

With aching deliberation, Hinata began extricating himself from where he caged you against the kitchen counters. Every subtle shift and retreat of his rangy, scorching frame sent a new frisson of loss prickling along your sensitized nerves - until he'd repositioned entirely behind you again with respectable distance.

You blinked dazedly for several suspended heartbeats, mind whirling from the roller-coaster of sensations still ricocheting through your limbs and core alike. When you finally mustered the courage to turn and face Shoyo once more, you found his stare guarded yet intense - still burning with the weight of visceral, undeniable yearning despite his display of restraint.

"You should probably head on back up to bed and try getting some rest, [Y/N]," he rumbled out lowly, running one hand through his wild bedhead in a gesture of reasserted nonchalance that rang hollow to both of you in the aftermath. "We can talk things out properly tomorrow after I've had a chance to cool off and think..."

Despite the gently-uttered suggestion, a daring splinter of molten want lanced through you at the weighty implication behind his parting murmur. Some impulsive, elemental part of your soul recognized this as the precipice you'd been hurtling towards all along: the choice to finally tumble into Uncle Shoyo's waiting inferno utterly and surrender whatever innocence remained...or reluctantly retreat from temptation's siren call.

He finally moved to slip back into the shadows—only for your hand to shoot out on pure reckless instinct, snagging his wrist in a vice.

Shoyo froze in place, chest swelling around a shuddering inhale that stirred the tendrils of hair fluttering across your flushed nape. Despite your bravado, you found your throat working convulsively as his piercing focus zeroed in on the fragile point where your thundering pulse danced below your jawline.

"[Y/N]..." he rumbled in that smoky timbre that made your core clench deliriously. "Don't go starting something here you ain't fully prepared to see through to the bitter end now, baby. 'Cause I promise you won't be leaving this kitchen the same sweet, blushing little minx you wandered in here as—"

"Please," you burst out in a desperate, trembling rasp before you could overthink the impulse further. Tears of frustrated yearning stung the corner of your eyes as you maintained your fragile grip on Hinata's wrist through sheer force of will. "Please, Uncle Shoyo...I can't—I need—"

You broke off in a piteous whimper despite your best efforts. Because how could you even begin to articulate the smoldering vortex of compulsion and visceral craving warring through your veins in the wake of his unapologetic provocation? How starved for his touch, his possession, his claiming rapture you'd found yourself since that very first night permitting him to infiltrate beneath your boundaries?

Hinata's chest heaved in visible effort, muscles tensing and bunching as his control clearly wavered on a razor's edge right alongside yours. Then with a low, guttural groan of surrender, he turned fully back into your space - allowing your trembling grip to capture his wrist once more as those smoldering amber depths searched yours from mere inches away.

"Okay, kitten," Shoyo rasped out at last in a voice gone ragged around the edges. "Okay...I hear you loud and clear now. And lucky for us both..."

His free hand snaked around the small of your back in one fluid yet inescapable glide, crushing your body flush against his chiseled torso with insistent possession. Despite your initial startled inhale, every fiber of your being instantly melted into the scorching heat and masculine power radiating from Hinata in molten waves of delirious ecstasy.

"...I would never in a million years dream of denying a sweet, desperate thing like you exactly what she so clearly craves from the very core of her being ever again..."

Those plush lips skimmed teasingly along your cheekbone, eliciting a shuddering sigh as your eyelids fluttered in utter surrender. Then Shoyo's sinful mouth ghosted a trail downwards, tracing the contours of your jaw and neck with such agonizing precision you nearly sobbed aloud from the unbearable ache of anticipation unfurling inside.

"So let's start this proper now, baby," Hinata murmured directly against the shell of your ear. You couldn't help arching against his frame like a bowstring as the low, sinful rumble washed over you - his hands already sliding down to capture and squeeze your hips with bruising force.

"You’re not going to call me uncle anymore, kitten," he continued with a sinful lilt. "And you're certainly not going to refer to me as Shoyo either. Not while I’m fucking you. Understand?"

Hinata's palm smoothed over your trembling flank before cupping your ass in an unmistakable act of dominance. You gasped out a broken mewl, only for him to hitch you tighter against his virile torso as you fought to keep from melting into an absolute puddle at his feet.

"When we're all alone together like this, you'll be calling me Daddy instead," he growled directly against your racing pulse, tongue darting out in a hot, electrifying stroke along your feverish flesh. "Is that understood, pretty girl?"

You managed a dazed nod, eyes slipping closed entirely as molten arousal coursed through you in heady torrents. Hinata clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, releasing your hip only to give your bottom a swift, resounding slap. You jumped at the unexpected impact, yelping as a new flood of liquid heat soaked through the already sodden fabric of your panties.

"Words, kitten," Shoyo husked against your fevered skin. "I need to hear the words. Are you gonna be a good girl and obey, or do we need to have a proper lesson before we move on to the fun stuff?"

A shiver raced down your spine as a fresh surge of liquid arousal spilled from your throbbing pussy, dripping onto the hardwood beneath you. You whimpered aloud at the scalding sensation, squirming within Hinata's steely grasp as he pressed a chiding kiss directly below your ear.

"I—I'll be good, Daddy," you gasped out at last. Your cheeks burned with equal parts mortification and wanton desire while Shoyo hummed his approval against your flushed nape, trailing hot kisses and playful nips all along the sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, I knew you'd make a sweet, obedient little angel for me, kitten," he murmured in that low, hypnotic rumble. One hand slid from your hip to trace the line of your spine, teasing along the hem of your tiny tank top with aching slowness. His fingers hooked around the fabric and began tugging it upwards, the pads skimming over the feverish expanse of flesh he gradually bared to the balmy air.

"It's just too bad your first lesson will have to be the roughest," he rasped directly against the shell of your ear. A frisson of raw anticipation rippled down your spine at the dark, dangerous undercurrent of lust that laced each syllable. "After all, we're long overdue for a proper punishment for how brazenly you've been taunting and teasing poor Daddy, don't you agree?"

The tank top soon flew into the darkness, leaving your quivering, exposed form in nothing but the thin satin of your panties. You couldn't help squirming under Shoyo's piercing stare and the searing weight of his touch as it skated back down to grip your bottom possessively.

"So, how does that sound, kitten?" he purred lowly, kneading the firm, supple flesh of your ass in his broad palm. You keened and arched against his towering frame, unable to resist the overwhelming compulsion to surrender every last scrap of your remaining dignity under his sinful ministrations.

"Punish me, Daddy," you whispered breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as his thumb dipped tantalizingly beneath the soaked silk of your panties and brushed a feather-light stroke against your throbbing clit. "Want you to spank me, please..."

"Spank you? Now there's an offer I can't possibly refuse," Hinata replied with a dark chuckle. His palm smoothed over the swell of your bottom, the calluses sending delicious frissons of sensation zipping through your nerve endings with each passing stroke.

"But, I think it's only fair I give you a chance to make up for all that mischief and teasing you've put poor Daddy through first." His lips captured the delicate skin of your nape in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that made your toes curl against the hardwood. "What do you think, kitten?"

Before you could even process the question, Hinata's other hand abandoned your hip in favor of hooking one finger under the thin strap of your thong. He gave a swift, sharp tug that snapped the delicate lace and left the garment pooling at your feet in an instant.

You trembled with unabashed desire as Shoyo's gaze swept hungrily over the newly-bared expanse of flesh, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating until his irises were nothing but thin rings of liquid gold. You could feel his thick, twitching cock straining against the sweatpants, and couldn't resist squirming back against his pelvis to draw a choked-off groan from the man pinning you.

"Mmm, you're soaked through, aren't you, pretty girl?" Hinata husked against your flushed, damp nape, his other hand still kneading the firm curve of your ass as he pressed forward. His cock grazed the seam of your thighs, sending a shuddering gasp tumbling from your parted lips as the aching vacancy between your legs throbbed.

"I can feel how desperate and empty you are for it, kitten," he rasped, giving your bottom a brisk, stinging swat. You gasped and jerked into his hips with a helpless whimper, eyes rolling back as another gush of liquid arousal dripped onto the floor between your legs. "Look at you, dripping like a little river and squirming like a bitch in heat, just begging for Daddy's cock to fill you up nice and tight..."

He rolled his hips in slow, torturous friction, cock catching against your drenched pussy and the underside of your clit until a wanton whine slipped from your lips. Then with a low, rumbling groan, Shoyo withdrew and took a deliberate step backwards - putting enough distance between the two of you to make the sudden loss of contact nearly palpable.

"But first we’re going to train that bratty little mouth of yours," he murmured huskily, reaching out to cup your chin and tilt your face upwards towards his. "Get on your knees, baby."

Your breath hitched and your knees trembled as the words registered. Even in your thoroughly compromised state, the implications sent a jolt of fear lancing through the molten haze of arousal clouding your brain. But, when you dared a glance back at Hinata's piercing golden stare, your heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the raw, unbridled hunger etched into every hard line and angle of his features.

"Don't make me repeat myself, kitten," he murmured warningly, giving the supple swell of your ass a swift, stinging swat that had you squealing and stumbling towards him on unsteady limbs.

You sank onto your knees with a soft huff, blinking dazedly up at Hinata from beneath your lashes. He stood above you like a towering titan, silhouetted by the faint moonlight slanting through the kitchen window and the shadows enveloping the two of you. The sight of him, wild and feral and utterly irresistible, left your core clenching and your breath stuttering.

"Go ahead, baby," Shoyo urged you huskily, fingers skimming over the flushed, feverish skin of your cheek before tangling in your hair. "Taste Daddy."

You shuddered, eyes fluttering closed as his grip tightened and he began guiding you forward. There was a single, suspended moment of anticipation as you hovered just before the massive bulge tenting the front of his sweats. Then, just as you reached out to tug the waistband down, Shoyo halted you with a harsh tug on your hair.

"Ah, ah," he warned you lowly, eliciting a whimper of frustration from you that had him chuckling lowly in response. "You don't get to use your hands. Just your mouth, baby."

Heat rushed to your cheeks and a fresh flood of arousal pooled at your core, dripping down your thighs and onto the hardwood in a steady stream. You bit back a frustrated groan, squirming in his grasp as his cock twitched and throbbed beneath the cotton, mere inches away.

Then without allowing yourself another moment of hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right where the mushroom head strained the fabric. Hinata's breath hitched and his grip on your hair tightened, a low hiss of approval slipping past his clenched teeth.

You glanced up, meeting his burning stare with your own as you traced the outline of his cock with the flat of your tongue. The taste of salt and musk and him, all man and virile power, exploded across your taste buds. A shudder rippled through you, leaving your core clenching and dripping in the aftermath.

"Fucking tease," Hinata groaned, his eyes falling closed as you began mouthing at his clothed erection, the wet patch slowly spreading and growing more obvious beneath the force of your ministrations. "Get to it already, kitten."

He yanked you forward and you gasped at the sudden pressure against your mouth, squirming and shifting as he ground his cock against the seam of your lips. Your cheeks burned, arousal pooling deep in the pit of your stomach and spreading outwards like molten honey as the musky scent of his precum filled your senses.

Then finally, you caught the elastic waistband between your teeth and tugged it down, allowing Hinata's heavy, aching length to spring free at last. You blinked, momentarily stunned and dazed by the sheer, impossible girth and size of his cock as it bobbed before your face, droplets of precum glistening on the swollen mushroom head and a prominent vein snaking down the underside.

"Open wide for Daddy, kitten," Hinata husked above you, giving your hair a warning tug. You barely had time to suck in a desperate breath before he was thrusting forward, spearing between your parted lips and sliding along your tongue in a hot, thick slide of molten flesh.

A garbled moan spilled from you as his cock hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your vision go blurry. The salty tang of precum burst across your taste buds, only to be washed away as he withdrew in a slick, obscene glide and plunged back down with a guttural groan.

"Oh fuck, that's a good girl," he grunted, his hips setting a relentless pace as he fucked your mouth with abandon. You whimpered, tears streaking your cheeks and spit dribbling from the corners of your lips as the force of his thrusts rocked you on your knees.

Hinata's breathing grew labored, his muscles bunching and tensing as he pistoned into your mouth, chasing his own pleasure with a single-minded fervor that left you delirious with want. His cock throbbed and pulsed on your tongue, swelling impossibly larger and harder until you could hardly breathe past the sheer thickness filling every inch of available space.

Your hands scrabbled for purchase against his hips, fingers clawing into his flesh and digging into the ridges of his Adonis belt as he drove deeper into the tight, constricting tunnel of your throat. A strangled groan spilled from him, his pelvis snapping forward until his balls slapped against your chin and your nose was buried in the thatch of hair at the base.

"God, such a perfect fucking cockslut," he grunted, voice reduced to a ragged rasp that had you shivering and quaking with a fresh wave of liquid arousal. You whined in response, eyes rolling back as he slid down your gullet, the flared mushroom head forcing your throat to stretch impossibly wide around his girth.

Then suddenly, Shoyo wrenched your head back by the hair. You sputtered and coughed, gasping desperately for air as the string of spit connecting his cockhead to your mouth snapped and a trickle of saliva dribbled down your chin. Your vision was blurry and tears clung to your lashes, but the sight of Hinata's cock, flushed and gleaming and positively coated in your spit, made your core clench and ache with a renewed desperation.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured, the pad of his thumb catching the rivulet of drool and precum and smearing it along your lower lip. You whined and leaned forward, trying to catch the calloused digit between your lips, only for him to yank it away with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, kitten," he admonished, releasing your hair and taking a single step backwards. You swayed on your knees, eyes following his movements as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down in a smooth, sinuous glide.

The fabric fell in a rumpled heap at his ankles, leaving him bare and exposed in the moonlight. His cock jutted proudly from his pelvis, swollen and twitching and absolutely dripping with your saliva and an ungodly amount of his own precum. You licked your lips, the taste of salt and musk still lingering there, and squirmed where you knelt.

"You look so hungry, kitten," Shoyo said with a devilish smirk. He wrapped one large hand around the base of his cock and gave it a slow, deliberate stroke from root to tip. You watched, utterly mesmerized by the flex of his arm and the sinful glide of his fist, until the tip was once more dripping and you could practically feel the throbbing pulse against your tongue.

"But you know, I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet."

Before you could fully process the words, Hinata had seized your arm shoulders and shoved you back until your spine hit the cool marble of the counter. You yelped at the sharp, sudden impact, only to have the sound muffled by Hinata's cockas he leaned forward and stuffed your mouth full.

Your head thunked back against the marble and you whimpered around the heavy, thick length. Above you, Shoyo grunted and set a brutal, unforgiving pace as he speared past your lips and fucked into the tight, hands braced against the edge of the countertop and eyes dark and glinting.

You squirmed and writhed beneath him, eyes rolling back and a steady stream of saliva and precum dribbling from the corner of your lips. Your fingernails scraped at the hardwood, hips bucking and core clenching around nothing as his cock dragged along the flat of your tongue and plunged deeper than before.

"That's right, kitten," he husked, reaching down to grip the hair at the crown of your head. His pelvis rolled forward in a devastatingly deep thrust, drawing a choked gasp from you. "You take Daddy's cock so fucking well, like you were made for it, weren't you?"

A low, needy whine spilled from you, sending a frisson of vibrations racing up his cock. He hissed, head dropping and his fingers tightening to an almost-painful grip on your hair as his thrusts turned wild and frenzied. The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed off the walls, mixing with the lewd squelch and slurp of your mouth and the ragged groans that tumbled from his lips.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—gonna cum, baby," he panted out, his movements growing erratic and the swell of his cock pulsing. The words were a trigger, sending your head spinning and your vision going hazy. You moaned, a fresh rush of arousal dripping down onto the hardwood between your splayed thighs.

Shoyo's hips snapped forward once, twice more, and then with a strangled, wordless shout, he pulled out and pumped his cock. His release shot in pearly white streaks, splattering over the hollow of your throat and the tops of your breasts.

You panted, blinking up at the ceiling as your head spun and a dazed smile curled the corners of your lips. His cum, warm and sticky, slid down the slope of your chest and between the valley of your breasts. But, the euphoric haze was shattered when Hinata's fingers slid around your neck, pressing hard against the sensitive skin as he squeezed and forced you to tilt your head up.

"Open up," he demanded, the head of his cock nudging against your lips and painting them with a thin sheen of his release. "Be a good little cumslut and clean me off."

You parted your lips and allowed him to push his softening cock past the seam, the salty-bitter tang of his cum exploding across your tongue. He held your head still as you swallowed, his gaze never once wavering from the sight.

"That's a good girl," he purred, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek. You whimpered, leaning into the gentle touch, only to have it vanish. "Now, on your feet. We're not done here yet."

It took you several long, painful moments to gather your wits and regain control of your limbs. Your thighs were quivering, weak and unsteady, and your mind was fuzzy. You staggered upright, clinging to the edge of the countertop for support, and glanced back up at Hinata.

He had stepped back, the golden halo of his hair glowing ethereal and unearthly in the moonlight and his eyes burning into yours. You shivered, feeling a fresh trickle of his cum slide down your chest and drip onto the floor.

"Look at the mess you've made, kitten," Shoyo drawled, a predatory gleam to his eyes and a devilish smirk curling his lips. "Such a naughty little slut, making a puddle on the floor and dripping with Daddy's cum."

His thumb swept beneath the curve of your breast, smearing the pearly streaks of his release over your flushed skin. He gathered up a thick dollop and pressed the calloused digit onto the sensitive peak, leaving you trembling and breathless as his thumb and forefinger closed around it and rolled the hardened nub between the pads.

"I think it's only fair that I clean you up in return," he murmured, voice dipping into a husky, sinful timbre. He leaned forward, his lips skimming over the sensitive shell of your ear and eliciting a full-body shudder.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, he was crouching before you and his lips were closing around the puckered nipple, lapping at the salty, musky cum with a low, rumbling groan. Your head dropped back, a garbled moan spilling from your parted lips as his tongue swirled around the aching peak.

Your knees quivered and buckled, but Hinata's hand clamped around the back of your thigh and held you in place. His other hand came up, his broad palm cupping the full swell of your breast and squeezing it. He flicked his tongue against the bud, sucking and laving and coaxing the bead to distend even further, before switching sides and repeating the motion.

"S-Shoyo, please," you whimpered, the ache and need between your legs growing more desperate and unbearable. "I-I can't, I'm gonna—"

His teeth immediately closed around the taut peak, sending a jolt of electricity shooting straight through to your core. You arched into the sensation, a garbled whine slipping past your lips as your hips bucked and ground against the air.

"Ah, ah," Hinata warned, lifting his head and meeting your gaze. His pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of molten gold encircling them. "That’s not how you address me, kitten. Be a good girl and try again."

Your stomach clenched and the ache in your core intensified, the molten pool of arousal spreading throughout every nerve-ending. You swallowed, a whine slipping past your parted lips as you squirmed and fought to form coherent words.

"D-Daddy, please," you finally managed, voice barely a whisper and hoarse and raspy.

"Please, what?"

You could see the way his eyes darkened, the gold flecks seeming to glow. It left you shuddering and quaking in the aftermath, your hips jerking and twitching as his gaze trailed over every inch of your flushed, heaving body.

"P-Please, fuck me," you whispered, cheeks burning and the shame and humiliation making you ache all the more. "Please, Daddy, I-I can't wait any longer."

A low growl, deep and guttural and primal, slipped from him. Then, before you could blink, he was standing and spinning you around. His hands landed on your shoulders, pressing you down until your cheek was flush against the counter and your ass was arched in the air.

"Don't move," he grunted, stepping back and giving your ass a resounding smack that had you mewling and squirming. You could hear him rustling behind you, the slick, obscene glide of his hand over his cock. Then, just as suddenly, his hands were on your hips and his pelvis was pressed against the curve of your ass.

"You want Daddy's cock, kitten?" he husked, the mushroom head slipping between your folds and parting them. He dragged his cock up and down, the blunt tip catching against your clit and the flared ridge rubbing against your swollen, hypersensitive folds.

"Yes!" you keened, back arching and hips grinding and trying to force him inside. "Yes, yes, please! P-Please, give it to me."

Hinata chuckled, his hand coming down in another punishing slap against the swell of your ass. You jerked and moaned, the sting and heat sending a fresh surge of arousal pouring down onto his cock. His cock twitched, the mushroom head catching against the rim of your entrance, and a low hiss spilled from his lips.

"Fucking slut, look how fucking wet and eager you are," he grunted. His hips rocked forward, the tip of his cock just beginning to breach your soaked, tight channel. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you, kitten? Just couldn't wait for Daddy to bend you over and stuff you full of his cock, huh?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, tears burning the backs of your eyes as the need became unbearable. "Oh god, Daddy, I-I've been such a good girl. Please, just—"

His hips snapped forward, the flared mushroom head of his cock splitting you open in a single, brutal thrust. You choked on a gasp, fingers scrabbling against the marble for purchase as a strangled moan slipped from your lips.

"Fuck, look at you," Hinata growled, his fingers digging into the flare of your hips and his cock buried to the hilt. He kept a firm grip on your waist, not allowing you to squirm or wriggle or try to adjust to his massive, pulsing girth, as he slowly pulled back until just the tip remained nestled between your folds. You were dimly aware of how your feet weren’t even touching the floor, how you were simply being held aloft by his bruising grip on your hips and the sheer, impossible size of his cock.

"Look at how easily you take my cock," he hissed, and then slammed back home with a wet, obscene slap. You cried out, eyes rolling back and blunt nails dragging across the countertop, as he set a ruthless, merciless pace.

"F-Fuck," you whimpered, the tears burning the backs of your eyes now trickling down your cheeks and mingling with the saliva dribbling from your lips. "S-Shoyo, please—"

"What did I tell you?" he growled, his pelvis slapping against the curve of your ass and driving his cock even deeper. He reached around, his fingers delving between the apex of your thighs and finding the swollen, aching nub there.

"You don't get to use my name, kitten," he hissed, his middle and ring finger sliding up on either side of the bud and pinching it between them. You squealed, hips jerking and back arching as the pleasure-pain had your head spinning and your vision blurring. "Now, let's try that again, shall we?"

"D-Daddy, please," you choked out, a sob tearing free as his fingers began to slowly, agonizingly roll the bundle of nerves between his fingers.

"Mmm, much better," he cooed, his tone soft and honeyed, though the brutal pace of his thrusts never faltered. His cock seemed to swell even more, the throbbing length spearing impossibly deep and drawing a garbled cry from you.

"God, such a perfect, pretty little cocksleeve," he grunted, his voice a ragged rasp as he leaned forward, blanketing his torso along your spine and pressing you down. The new angle sent the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot, forcing the air from your lungs and leaving you a sobbing, trembling mess.

"Gonna fill you up, kitten," he groaned, lips skimming over the curve of your ear and his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. You shivered, hips arching and thighs quivering and core clenching, and a desperate mewl spilled from your parted lips.

"Is that what you want, baby? Want Daddy to stuff you full and paint your pretty pussy white?"

"Yes, yes, oh god, please," you babbled, the words tumbling freely and incoherently from your lips. Hinata grunted, his hips snapping and the drag of his cock against your g-spot sending sparks skittering across your vision.

"Fuck, gonna cum, kitten," he panted, his lips moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the curve of your jaw. He reached up, his large hand curling around the column of your neck and squeezing. You felt your eyes flutter, a high, keening cry slipping from your lips, and a moment later, you felt his teeth close around the tender flesh where neck met shoulder.

He slammed his hips forward one final time, and the pain of his bite coupled with the unrelenting assault of his cock, his fingers, was too much. Your release hit, hard and sudden, and it tore a strangled scream from your throat. Your eyes rolled back, limbs seizing and spine arching as the pleasure washed over you in an unending torrent.

Dimly, distantly, you felt Hinata's teeth release their hold, and then he was groaning and his cock was pulsing and twitching as his cum painted the inside of your walls white. The flood of his release was enough to prolong your own orgasm, sending another wave crashing over you and leaving you choking and gasping.

Hinata slumped forward, his weight pinning you to the counter and his cock still nestled deep inside you. You could feel the slow trickle of his release and your own arousal slipping from between your folds and coating the insides of your thighs, but you were far too exhausted and fucked-out to care.

His lips skimmed over the marks left by his teeth, and he slowly straightened. You whimpered at the sudden movement, the stretch and shift of his softening cock still lodged inside. His hands stroked soothingly up and down the expanse of your back, fingers dancing across the knobs of your spine and his lips brushing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder and the slope of your neck.

"I've got you, kitten," he murmured, his tone soft and gentle, in direct contrast to the way his cock was still splitting you open and his cum was still leaking out around it. He eased off of you just enough for you to set your feet on the ground, and you felt the instant your knees buckled.

With a grunt, Hinata wrapped his arm around your waist and kept you upright, his cock still buried to the hilt and his hand splayed flat against your abdomen. You shuddered and sighed, a small, content smile curling your lips and the exhaustion beginning to set in.

"Such a good girl," Hinata hummed, his lips finding the curve of your ear and his hand smoothing up and over the curve of your ribs. "So, so good for me. Daddy's good girl."

You preened at the praise, a shiver skittering up your spine. The ache between your thighs was becoming more bearable, the overwhelming need and desire ebbing away. You felt him shift, felt the slow drag of his cock as he finally pulled out, and whined.

"Shh, it's okay, kitten," Shoyo crooned, his arm still curled around your waist as he reached around and slid his hand down your front. His fingertips dipped between your folds, smearing the remnants of his release and the thick mixture of his cum and your arousal over your aching, abused pussy. You gasped, hips twitching and thighs trembling and your core clenching around nothing.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his palm resting against the apex of your thighs and keeping the heel of his hand pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. You whimpered, squirming, and his arm tightened.

"Stay still, kitten," he ordered, voice dipping into a growl, and you shuddered. "We don’t want to waste a single drop of Daddy's cum, do we?"

Your stomach clenched and you shook your head, lips parted and a thin, reedy mewl spilling out. His cock gave a weak twitch, the fat, swollen head nudging against the curve of your ass, and you felt the slow trickle of his cum leak out of you.

"N-No, Daddy," you mumbled, a shiver running through you and the molten pool of desire reigniting within your core.

"Then be a good girl and stay still."

You did, the only movements coming from the trembling and twitching of your hips and thighs. His palm kept a steady, unrelenting pressure against your clit, his fingertips slowly stroking the slick, sensitive folds and smearing his cum into your skin.

"That's a good girl," Hinata murmured, pressing another soft, tender kiss to the back of your neck. "Now, let's get cleaned up and get some sleep. It's late."

He pulled his hand away, and the sudden lack of contact made you whimper and writhe. You could feel the mess between your thighs, feel the thick, pearly ropes of his release dripping down onto the floor, and the knowledge of it left you breathless and needy.

"Daddy—"

It was just then that the kitchen light flicked on.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

ravish pt.2

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: thankyou so much for all the love on ravish, it means a lot. in this one, i focused a little more on the set up of their connection and less on the sex part to give their relationship more depth. part three will eventually be in the works, but i hope you guys like this one<3

wc: 3.6k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | alcohol usage, age gap, oral sex and sexual themes

summary: the last thing y/n remembers was being in Logan's car after being picked up by him. How did she get to this motel room, where is he?

au: 1970s

Your brain buzzed the entirety of the drive to El Paso.

You hadn't fully recovered yet from your mindblowing orgasm in the backseat earlier. However, you felt better because you no longer had that aching pressure between your legs.

Logan had taken care of that before the long drive ahead. He could smell the arousal off of you the second you entered the car which made driving just too hard to concentrate on. With a simple look at you, it's as if he could tell that's exactly what you needed, and he gave it to you.

The both of you managed to make the 6-hour drive without any other detours.

Shortly after pulling out of the woods he had stopped at a nearby store and bought you both something to eat, he mentioned he couldn't hear the music over your stomach growling.

His soft rock cd's filled the silences as you both drifted into your individual trains of thought.

Once in a while, you'd pass him cigars from the dash when he was due for another. 

He'd mumble a 'thanks, sweetheart.'

At one point he had folded his flannel as a makeshift pillow so you could nap your hangover away. 

He'd quietly cuss under his breath trying to keep his road rage to a minimum and not wake you up. 

"Kid, wake up." He shook you gently. 

Your eyelids were glued shut.

"Kid," He prompted you again. 

You could hear him and were awake but your body remained in that coma-like state, catching up on some overdue rest. Being on the road constantly meant you didn't eat or sleep as much as you were supposed to.

Logan let out a grunt and got out of the car, turning the front and opening your passenger door; He uncliped your seatbelt and carried your bridal style to a motel room door.

He unlocked the door with a swift motion of one hand as the other held you in his chest.

He kicked it open and gently placed you on the bed before returning to the car to grab your bag.

He closed the door and kicked off his boots. The mattress dipped where he sat on the foot of the bed.

He carded his fingers through his hair with a huff, taking a peek at your sleeping body. 

Your shoulders rose and fell as you gently breathed, a few strands of your hair in your face, floating with the exhale from your nose. You looked so peaceful, and... innocent.

He still wondered what a young thing like you was doing travelling across the country alone, it was a reckless choice on your part, putting yourself in danger every single day. Why were you doing this to yourself?

Logan's trust in people had been long gone for some time now, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for making you realize that maybe the world isn't such a great place after all. 

He frowned as his mind dove into the thought that he was no better than they were, taking advantage of you in the back of his car. Letting his perverted fantasize take over him. He was way older than you were, and though it was legal, a part of him wasn't sure if it was right. 

Anger bubbled inside of him, disgusted with himself. He pulled out the panties he had pocketed earlier and sighed returning them to their place.

"Fuck," He gritted through his teeth.

He rose to his feet and took one last look at you before he slipped out the door. 

You had no recollection of how you got into a motel room, but it was safe to assume that Logan had placed you there. The clock on the wall indicated it was an hour before midnight, you had slept the entire day away. 

How sweet, you thought.

You scanned the room looking for any trace of him; a phone number, a wad of cash, cigars, anything: nothing. 

Just you and your backpack.

It's as if there was no trace of Logan ever existing:

Had you imagined him?

Had he been a hallucination from the leftover psychedelics in your system?

Your gears turned.

Would he leave without saying goodbye?

You look over to the bedside table and call the front desk. 

"Guest services," A voice chimed from the other line. 

"Hi... my...friend, got this room for me. I'm just wondering if he is staying in a separate room or left anything with you guys at the desk." You groggily explained, not being 100% sure yourself what you were trying to ask.

"I can check, what room are you staying in?" 

"..Give me a sec," You murmured into the receiver, looking at the sticker on the rotary phone. "B6." 

The clerk ruffles pages around looking for your information on the other end of the line.

"...Your room name is under Logan Howlett, but unfortunately there doesn't seem to be any other bookings under that name. We also didn't receive anything from Mr. Howlett at the desk."

Two things:

He was in fact real and he did leave without saying goodbye.

"Thank you," You mumbled, and hung up the phone and dropped your head with a huff.

You took notice that your feet were still black, and the reality hit that you indeed hadn't showered in a couple days, the struggles of being a nomad. 

You padded to the bathroom and made your way to the shower, twisting the knob; warm steam filled the room, fogging the mirror.

You undressed and stepped under the shower head. A chill ran up your stomach, causing your nipples to get hard, you weren't used to the water temperature yet.

With the motel-provided toiletries, you were able to wash your hair and body and even shave.

You cracked a smile, laughing in disbelief at how Logan absolutely didn't care that you weren't shaven and hadn't showered for a few days.

Your smile faltered as you remembered he was gone.

He was a man you just met, a total stranger, but he had definitely left a lasting impression.

Even though his knuckles had dried blood on them, you didn't feel scared around him, if anything you felt safe. There is something about him that just reeled you in like a deer in headlights. Not to mention your physical chemistry was through the roof.

You turned the shower off, stepped out and wrapped yourself in a robe. You had forgotten to turn on the fan so the entire room looked like a sauna.

Great, you thought, slipping on the provided paper-thin sandals and walking to the back door.

You opened it to clear the steam.

What? You stopped in your tracks.

Logan's car was parked in front of your room, he hadn't left after all.

You tightened the knot on your robe and stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. You pressed your face against the window, shielding your eyes from the street lights with your hands. 

Logan wasn't inside, and it looked like nothing was missing;

Where could he have gone, had something happened to him? 

Your curiosity got the best of you, you were going to look for him. You went back inside and got dressed back into your dirty clothes that now smelled of booze. 

Booze. 

You had noticed there was a bar across from the motel, he might've gone there; hopefully, he wasn't getting himself in another fight. 

You kept the slippers on since those were your only shoes at the moment and left for the bar. 

You pushed the paint-chipped door and were greeted with a musk of liquor and cigarettes.

The inside, much like the exterior was made of wood and covered with various street signs and glowing lights casting a neon wash into the room. 

It was small and the place was packed. The air was warm and thick with smoke. Loud rock blared from the speakers as people chattered and laughed amongst themselves over the track. 

You pushed through a few people and spotted his flannel at the pool table, his back facing you.

You reached him tugging at his sleeve.

"I thought you left," You started and cut yourself off as a man you didn't recognize turned to face you. 

"My bad, thought you were someone else." You mumbled apologetically and turned to leave. 

A grip on your bicep stopped you in your tracks. 

"Where you goin'? Stay, wanna play a round?" The stranger slurred. 

"I'm actually looking for someone, maybe next time." You jerked your arm out of his grip, squeezing through groups of bodies, making your way to check out the slot machines in the corner. 

No one there. 

Shit. 

The last place you could check was the bar. You sucked in a breath, whispering your 'sorrys' and 'scuse me's' as you slithered your way to the bar top. Observing the occupied seats you couldn't identify Logan. Your eyes made contact with the bartender. 

"I.D. please or a parental permission letter." He up and downed you while drying a beer mug with a cloth. 

"I don't want a drink, have you seen a man, 40s, side burns with uh, bloody knuckles." You spoke up over the music. 

He pointed to the end of the bar where a brunette man had his head buried in his arms. 

"That's who you're looking for? He's been here for a while and had quite a lot to drink, I had to cut him off after he finished the whole bottle." 

You furrowed your brows.

"Thanks," You muttered and made your way to Logan. 

You could smell the booze wafting off of him from three feet away;

Was he trying to drink himself to death? 

You placed a gentle hand on his back whispering a 'Logan' in his ear. 

He perked up, squinting from the bar lights.

"What're ya' doing here?" He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

"Come on, let's go back to the room, you're wasted," You grabbed his wrist giving it a little tug. 

"M'fine, n' the room is all yours." He stretched out his back, relieving it from the pain.

"Well you can't sleep on the bar, let's go, the bed is big enough for both of us." You persisted. 

Your eyes locked, noticing almost immediately something changed in him, hurt was written all over his face. Logan didn't say anything, just looked at you with a sad expression, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

"...M'sorry..." He whispered and blinked slowly. 

You arched a brow and grabbed his hand, running your thumb over his knuckles. 

"It's fine Logan, let's go rest up. You've had a long day." You tugged at his arm and this time he threw a stack of cash on the bar and got up to follow you.

He hung his head low as he followed behind you, heavy footsteps crashing into the gravel stumbling lightly here and there.

What the hell had happened while you were asleep? 

You both bust through the door, Logan flopping on the bed, making it squeak loudly.

"I'll get you some water," You shut the door and grabbed the complimentary disposable cups on the desk.

"I said m' fine," You heard him faintly grumble in the mattress from the room as you filled it with the bathroom sink tap water. 

You returned and sat on the mattress next to his head.

"Drink some," You ushered, running a hand through his hair, he was warm to the touch.

He hummed in delight as your nails scratched his scalp gently. 

"You like that hm?" You teased.

Logan took a deep breath and propped himself on his forearms grabbing the cup from your hand. He threw it back like a shot of tequila, crumpled the cardboard and tossed it to the corner of the room. 

Your hand fell to his nape where your thumb rubbed tiny circles, he looked at you in the eyes, the same sadness still there.

"What is it?" You whispered. 

"...I'm old n' gross, didn't mean to do anything you didn't want.." He stared at the mattress. 

"What are you talking about..... in the car?" Your brows knitted. 

"Yeah, shouldn't have done that." He propped his head up with his palm.

"Logan, hey, of course, I wanted it, I'm the one who initiated it, I came onto you, remember-" You explained, dropping to your knees on the floor so that your face was now inches away from his. 

"-and you're not gross," You pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes. Just don't want to take advantage of you, kid, don't wanna hurt ya'," His eyebrows softened. You slid your hand to cup his stubly cheek. 

"Then don't hurt me, " You smiled.

"-and you're not. If anything I'm the one taking advantage of you," You giggled and bit your lips as you pushed him onto his back. You swung your thigh over him, now straddling him with both your hands on his chest. That earned you a surprised huff from Logan. His thick calloused hands grab to your exposed waist. You sat on his groin, feeling him getting slightly harder. 

You peered down at the gorgeous man beneath you. "I'm an adult too you know...just because I'm on the younger side doesn't mean you're taking advantage of me. I like you." You mumbled shyly. 

"I know bub'." He sighed. "Jus' never did this before.'" He breathed out. 

"Me neither, kay? So nothing to worry about." You pressed your forehead against his, cupping both his cheeks in your hands. 

"Kay'." He rasped, you could smell the prominent whiskey and cigars on his breath. You kissed him, long and hard, full of passion he returned it with an enthusiastic groan.

You didn't know the first thing about this man, but you already cared so much. You could tell that he had something inside of him that was dark or broken, which saddened you. He had shown you such generosity and kindness, you couldn't help but want to return the favour. 

He groaned as you pulled back from the kiss. "Go shower and come to bed back with me," You grinned. 

Without a word, he got up and obeyed. 

You had changed out of your clothing and back into the robe again, it felt good to be clean and wear something clean. You were in bed, waiting for him to come join you. A single warm-toned lamp lit the room. 

The door opened with a thud and Logan emerged from the door with a towel hanging from his hips.

The sheer sight of him made you immediately bite your finger: his hair stuck up in every direction, almost like when a wet dog shakes themselves dry.

His muscles glistened underneath the droplets of water, his abs were prominent and stretched all the way down to his pelvis. Logan was ripped, a pleasant surprise you hadn't gotten the chance to see earlier in the car. 

"Feel better?" You said warmly.

"Mhm," He agreed, trudging through the carpet to make his way to the bed. His abs flexed as he walked. He pulled the cover of the blanket up and began to get underneath with his towel.

"Your towel is going to make blankets wet," You remarked.

"There's only one robe," He paused looking down at you. 

From your point of view, he had one knee on the bed and towered over you. His towel-covered pelvis was inches away from your face.

You grinned and flipped to your stomach. Warmth spread in your cheeks as you reached out a hand to grip the towel. 

"That's alright with me," You purred, as you pulled it down making Logans semi-hard cock spring out. 

"What're ya-" He began but you cut himself off with a groan as you wrapped your small hand around it. It was thick and had a few prominent veins that grazed its sides, the red tip of it poked out from the foreskin that bunched at the edge. He was gorgeous.

You looked up at him with doe eyes as you began to stoke it slowly; You felt the warmth in your hand as it swelled to it's full erect size, Logan was about a whole delicious seven inches,

"Can I?" You blinked.

"You don't have to," He groaned from the sensation, brushing a hand through your hair.

"I really want to, please can I?" You begged, and your mouth began to water. Pleasuring Logan sent a thrill in your stomach. You could have this groan man under your control in a matter of seconds.

"Kay' princess, whatever you want," He grunted out. 

You pulled back the foreskin, exposing his thick eager tip. You hum in delight before enveloping your warm lips around it, sucking on it gently while still keeping that slow stroking rhythm from before. 

Logan's grip on your hair tightens, and small moans and groans escape his lips.  You were so pretty with his cock in your mouth, he stared at you in awe as you worked gently on him. Inch by inch you relaxed your throat to take more of him, feeling his hard cock push on your tongue for added friction. 

"You're doin' good," He praised with his head tipping back as you reached the base, your nose brushed against his pubic hair as you pushed him even further down. An ache formed at the back of your throat, but you didn't care, you were enjoying pleasuring Logan. A hunger began to form between your legs, and you squeezed them together, trying to ease the pressure. 

You pulled your head back, removing it from your warmth. You took a breath as you picked your pace a little, the strokes getting faster and faster. You spit the saliva that had been collecting in your mouth on it earning a grunt from Logan and a little tug on your hair.

He gripped his cock guiding it closer and slapped it against your cheek, making sounds of wet skin-on-skin reverb in the room. A low groan resonated from his chest as his slaps got harder. 

"Fuck," He breathed, peering at you with his hunger-filled eyes.

If he liked it rough, you were going to give it to him rough. 

You took charge again, wrapping your two hands on it now. Twisting them both in opposite directions down on the spit-lubricated shaft, tightening your grip and applying more pressure to his needy length. 

Your strokes became even faster, sending Logan's spine in tingles. You re-inserted him in your mouth sucking hard and letting him go with a pop noise, you repeated that a few times as he bucked his hips closer and closer, his orgasm approaching. 

You bobbed on his tip, sucking as hard as you possibly could, taking him in deeper and deeper with each push until you once again reached the base. You gagged from his size, groaning in pain, sending vibrations along his shaft. You pushed yourself to keep deep-throating him, making you gag over and over. The vibrations sent Logan over the edge.

"Fuck sweetheart," Logan rasped breathily, removing himself from you as you moaned in relief, you stroked him as ribbons of pearly cum shot out and covered your swollen lips.

He fell in a fit of moans as he rode out his orgasm under your touch.  He hunched over, placing a hand on the mattress to stabilize himself as you slowed your movement, letting him come back to his senses. You wiped off his seed with the sleeves of your robe, smiling at what you had just done.

He caught his breath and plopped down on the bed next to you, chest heaving from the miraculous release he had just experienced. 

You rolled into his side snuggling close to him, as he wrapped his tired arm around you. You laid your head on his bare chest and could hear his heartbeat slowly going back to normal with each breath. Logan's abs flexed as he brought down his lips to kiss the top of your head. 

"thanks', that felt real good sweetheart." He mumbled against your hair. 

"Mmmm... was all my pleasure," You smiled, tipped your chin up and kissed him on the lips.

The both of you laid there like that in the blankets in silence for a while. Logan stroked your hair gently as you twirled his chest hair between your fingers, the both of you just enjoying your presence.

"Logan?" Whispered. 

"Ya?" His chest moved with his word. 

"Why were your knuckles covered in dried blood?" You asked.

Logan's hand in your hair froze. 

"-Work." He rasped. 

"Are you going to work tomorrow? Is that why you were going to El Paso?" You pried. 

"No work, thinking of heading out to the other side of the border for a little bit," He chose his words carefully. 

He was being secretive; yes you did not know each other at all and you weren't entitled to full disclosure, but it seemed that he wanted you to know as little as possible.

Was he on the run? Mexico was the perfect place to go for people who wanted to be off the radar. 

Did he have a wife and kids down there? Your eyes darted to his hand, no ring.

"Vacation?" You tested. 

"Something like that," His tone calm, dissmisive. 

"When are you leaving?" You felt a pressure in your chest as you thought of him leaving for good. 

"Tommorow mornin'," He groaned looking at the clock. 

"That's so soon," You frowned.

"Yeah I know, kay kid' time to go to bed now." He rolled over to turn off the lamp, leaving the room in complete darkness now. 

He pulled your body into him so that your back was against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet smell.

Logan was going to miss having you in his arms, but he had business to take care of down south. Maybe one day he'd have the pleasure of crossing paths with you again. 

You heard the bathroom door shut, he was awake. You couldn't sleep last night because you had too many unanswered questions. You got up quietly stripping from your robe and sliding on a fresh pair of underwear that you had in your backpack. You rummaged around the room finding your scattered clothing pieces and frantically putting them on. 

Logan opened the door and was met with you being fully dressed and ready to go. His brows knitted. 

"Where you goin'" He grumbled. 

"I'm coming with you," You crossed your arms.

so much angst.

🏷️: @babucakes @landlockedmermaid77 @theoraekenslover @loreniscrying @bpmiranda @rogueinmymind @lose1tall @2fatblunt

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[bloodmoonmuses]

come back to me | mark lee

summary: your boyfriend, mark, drunkenly recounts the day the two of you met. (mostly to prove to haechan and johnny that love does, in fact, exist. even in the most unlikely of places.)

genre: mark lee x reader, established relationship kinda... but, like, also a meet cute? young love and all that jazz lol

It’s cold outside, the beginnings of winter trickling in with bitter fervor, yet you’re warm. Or rather, being warmed by the illusion of heat that courses through your veins: liquid courage. Now on your second bottle of soju, your form feels pliant, watery even, as you sway in the wind of your friends’ joy. 

In a booth (the leather of which is crackling at the seams) that forms a sort of semi circle, sits you, Mark, Johnny and Haechan. The wooden table before you is littered in plastic shot “glasses” and fried chicken wings that have been picked clean, and the bar is quite lively despite it nearing one in the morning. You lie your head against Mark’s shoulder, lost in the feeling of his muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly beneath it.

“You good?” Mark whispers to you, shimming slightly as if to jostle a response out of you.

The words that escape your mouth feel fuzzy on your tongue, staticky around the edges. “Never been better.”

For some reason, the night has taken a nostalgic turn, fueled by the alcohol in everyone’s system. Haechan and Johnny have been arguing about their love lives for the better part of an hour. It never fails to amuse you how much they like bickering simply for the sake of it. You tuned out about ten minutes ago when Haechan brought up Johnny’s commitment issues only to be met with a rebuttal about him using humor as a coping mechanism. Both comments clearly strike a nerve in the men respectively, deciding to psychoanalyze their exes in chronological order in an attempt to disprove the validity of one another's assertions. 

“I don’t like that we can’t make fun of Mark right now,” Johnny confesses when he’s finished talking about an ex who turned out to be a closeted sasaeng, turning his attention to you and Mark.

Haechan scrunches his nose, gazing upon you as well. “Look at you two… All cozied up- it’s disgusting.”

“Hey man,” Mark starts, “don’t blame me for the lack of love in your life.” You punctuate his declaration with a kiss on the cheek, giddy and lovey-dovey in your drunken state. “See?” 

Johnny pretends to gag.

“How’d you meet anyway?” Haechan asks, “-so I can avoid any scenario involving… that.”

“Mark hasn’t told you the story in, like, excruciating detail?” you scoff. “He’s told everyone.”

Haechan shakes his head. 

“Oh God, don’t get him started,” Johnny groans. Mark sits upright, effectively knocking your head off of his shoulder, ecstatic with the chance to relay the way you met each other in its sappy glory.

“Spring,” Mark starts. “I was seventeen, so I had just debuted a year before, and-”

The cherry blossoms. They were stunning, you remember. Glistening and quivering under the weight of all the raindrops that had accumulated on them. The sheen of puddles scattered on the roads and sidewalks... You took the bus to work, a little cafe job you worked while finishing up your requirements at the international school you attended, and during that time of year, those bus rides were some of the most peaceful times in your day to day life. 

You think back to your youth, bright eyes aged only seventeen years, and how the world then seemed filled to brim with possibility. One day in particular, a chilly one towards the end of spring, you remember watching Mark enter the bus, his boyishness evident in his untied shoelaces and clunkily carried guitar case. On his back was a spiderman backpack, you remember vividly, and his hair is frizzy from how light he’s bleached it. He comes off a bit frazzled as you watch him stumble into a seat, precariously balancing a flimsy pair of headphones on his head, and settle in it with his knees bent. 

Once he’s gathered his bearings, he takes off his backpack and retrieves a notebook and pen, placing it on his knees, and begins to write frantically- like if he doesn't put pen to paper in this exact nanosecond, the idea will leave and never return. In a world of sloth and languidness, you’re fascinated by his urgency. You take off your own headphones to hear how he sounds in the context of silence, it is seven in the morning after all, and it only draws you in further. The scratching of the pen against the paper, orchestrated by the humming that just barely escapes his lips lulling you into a state of hypnosis.

Periodically, he furrows his brows, tries out a different melody, then writes some more- over and over again, until the pattern becomes more fluid. More succinct. Like the beginnings of a fully fledged song. He’s smiling now, and you find yourself unknowingly mirroring his joy, the fuzziness of it spreading up your neck like a campfire consuming its kindling. You’re enraptured. 

You want to live inside his head. What a superpower to have; to breathe life into written language. And then suddenly, he’s stuffing his notebook into his backpack as quickly as he had taken it out. His stop must be coming up soon, you had thought to yourself. 

After putting his feet back on the ground, he gingerly places his palms against the bus window- as if to test its temperature. When deemed cool enough, he exhales against the glass, quickly etching a heart onto its foggy surface with a squeak. His fingers are calloused, that much you can tell even from across the bus, and he’s tired- if the bags under his eyes are any indication. Then, the bus crawls to a stop, and he stands. Again, you’re mirroring him instantly, body moving before your mind can catch up. It’s not your stop, yours is another three down, but you exit nonetheless, too enthralled by the boy in front of you to let him out of your sight.

You walk about a block, maintaining about a ten foot distance between the two of you, and watch him hobble down the sidewalk with his huge guitar case. He grunts occasionally, adjusting and readjusting his baggage when the weight becomes too much, humming all the while. Until, of course, he turns around, tearing the headphones off of his head, and asks, “Are you following me?!” in a frustrated huff. 

You stop in your tracks. Oh wait, you had thought, you are sorta following him. Well, the cafe is in this direction technically but-

“You’re not one of those people with a fansite, are you? Look, dude, I know we debuted last year, but I want a normal life just like-”

“I’m not a fan. I mean, not yet, I guess. Well- no. I was just… I’m not following you. Mostly.” you stammer. 

Mark scratches his head. “Then, what are you doing…?”

“You were writing a song on the bus,” you look at the ground, staring at your shoes in search of some solace, reprieve from the then stranger’s prying eyes. How did you think this would turn out any other way? “I thought maybe, you could… sing it. Like, out loud.”

Mark sighs. “Look, dude, I have practice and-”

“Right. I’m sorry for being weird, you just looked… Nevermind. Have a nice day- sorry to bother you.” You turn on your heels, in the complete opposite of the cafe you’re supposed to be going to, and make a break for it. As you trek up the hill, you shatter your reflection over and over again, the splashing of puddles beneath your feet the only sound tethering you to reality. 

“It’s not finished-” Mark starts, voice cutting through the rustling leaves and bustling city with piercing clarity.  You’re frozen, still facing away from the hypnotist behind you. “-but I could show you the idea. Because that’s what it is right now. Just an idea.”

You turn to face him. “Um. Sure. If that’s okay.”

Haechan interjects Mark’s storytelling, words warbling from his completion of a third bottle of soju for the night. “No way you actually sat down and played the song for-”

“Shh!” Johnny says, “This is the best part.”

“See, I knew you secretly loved this mushy-gushy stuff,” you say. 

Mark giggles. “So, like I was saying-”

You sit on a bench freckled cherry blossom petals and just-dried droplets of dew, knee bouncing nervously when Mark plops down beside you. Mark sets his guitar case down, flat in front of him, and opens it. Retrieving his notebook from his backpack once again, he places it on your lap, surprisingly enough. Wordlessly, he puts his guitar in his lap, throwing the strap over his neck and shoulders, and cranes his neck to re-familiarize himself with his feverishly scrawled ideas. Just before he strums the first note, he says, “Just an idea. Keep that in mind.”

Then he sings. A mix and hesitant laments of love lost, then found, yearning for the past, but hopeful for the future. But other words are not words at all. They’re more, like, messily sung runs. Like he’s sketching lightly, so he can erase later. He’s got a hook. He sings it three times, and the way his Adam's apple bobbles is now permanently etched in your mind. When he’s done, he opens his eyes slowly, assessing the damage done. He almost looks surprised that you’re still sitting there.

You whisper, voice whisked away in the gentle breeze, “I never asked your name.”

“Mark. Just Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, ‘Just Mark’.”

“What do you think? How do you feel?” Two entirely different questions, both of which hit your ear in a way that makes your stomach leap- or maybe it’s the gravelly timbre of his voice and unsure eyes.

“Good,” Mark’s eyes spur you on further, silently asking you to elaborate, “The song sounds good and I feel good.”

“Is that the only adjective you know? ‘Good’?”

“I know a lot of adjectives. I’m just… nervous. So, yeah.”

Mark grabs his notebook and returns it to his backpack, packing up his guitar as well. As he stands to leave, he turns and says, “Your name.”

“What?”

“You never told me your name.”

“_______,” you reply meekly.

“And your hand,” he urges, “give it to me.” You extend your arm and Mark delicately grasps your wrist. Then, Mark nervously scrawls his number on your palm, pen digging into your skin slightly. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

“If you have any thoughts beyond it being ‘good’, gimme a call.” And just like that, he’s gone, running down the hill to make it to practice on time.

As Mark ends his retelling of events with a wistful hum, Haechan chortles. “Yeah. You two disgust me.”

[bluerosefox]

Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"

[ma-yawntu]

mine, all mine.

chapter one: paradigm

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: You had your routine down to a fine art until he and his family threw a wrench in the works.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: mentions of injury, weapons, sneaking out, you're a menace fr. NO USE OF Y/N!!!

now playing... home by good neighbours

metkayina face claims

chapter two

It was early in the morning, long before the sun peeked over the horizon and bathed the village of Awa’atlu in a soft golden hue. You were silent as you crept toward the entrance to your family’s marui, placing your feet ever so carefully as to not disturb your siblings and parents and undoubtedly cop a string of questions as to why exactly you were up so early. You’d lie your way out of it, as usual, but you would remain under suspicion for far too long. But by now, you had this sneaking out business down to a fine art. Your mother’s duties as Tsahik had her awake fairly early most mornings and your father– well, you were sure the entire village knew when he was asleep given his occasional thunderous snores that you heard even in your dreams (or nightmares depending on your persuasion). 

There was a short expanse of time when both your parents slept soundly and you could get away uninterrupted and unsupervised for secret little training sessions with one of the village elders, Teyoa, who was a total thorn in your side but he was the only one who agreed to train you. Your father was sure there was no need for such things as learning to fight or use an array of weapons for anything other than hunting– the Metkayina were not at war. But even from a young age, you were fascinated by the stories of warriors and the battle with the great Toruk Makto that the elders would secretly tell the children. You were sure you wanted to be a warrior, fight to defend your people. But being the oldest daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan meant there was a heavy responsibility on your shoulders. You were the tsakarem, destined to be the Tsahik one day– a far cry from your dream of being a warrior.

Then there was the total mess of having to be mated one day, you considered that to be absolutely appalling– of course, your mother would scoff and tell you off for being dramatic– but you did not want to be mated to some random boy in the village, all of which you had the utter displeasure of growing up with for the most part. You dreaded the day you passed your Iknimaya– which was a breeze by the way– but it also meant you would be an adult, able to be courted and approached by the absolute meatheads that lived in your village.

“He’s a nice boy,” your mother would comment as you rolled your eyes so far back you saw your equally displeased brain.

“He also gave Ao’nung a bald patch when we were children,” you scoffed, pulling on the intricate and almost suffocating neck piece your mother insisted you wear when boys began courting you. 

“Must you have an excuse for everything?” Ronal would sigh, pressing her hands together as if praying to Eywa for the strength to not throttle her eldest child.

“Mother, A’tok is boring at best. Father would not approve of him being the next Olo’eyktan,” you would reply with a shrug, finally untying the neck piece and replacing it with the simple beaded one Tsireya had made for you many eclipses ago. 

“Eywa, give me strength,” Ronal would mutter, eyes glancing up at the sky as she returned to the healing tent to tend to the wounded hunters. 

Your parents were sure you made it impossible on purpose. You would avoid courting boys from the village like the plague, using your sister or tsakarem duties as an excuse almost every time. But Tsireya loved love; she would point out some of the cute village boys that came to court you, noting the gifts they had bought or their kind demeanour– she was too sweet for her own good. You had dirt on almost everyone, noting the times some of the older boys had bullied Ao’nung or bad mouthed your sister or parents– you held a grudge. 

Your mother tried to busy you with tsakarem duties if you were so adamant on borderline bullying the Metkayina boys into leaving you alone. You found it boring at times, wishing you were out hunting or practising your weaponry skills with Teyoa. Of course, you wanted to honour your family and your clan, but you wanted to learn to defend the land and your spirit brothers and sisters the tulkun too. Interpreting the will and Eywa and being a healer wasn’t exactly where all the action was. Tsireya would have been a better tsakarem than you. You had heard of villages where sisters lead their clan alongside each other as Olo’eyktan and Tsahik– you would lead them in flesh and your sister could lead them in spirit. But that’s not how the Metkayina did things and Eywa forbid you mess with tradition. 

So you paid attention for the most part, learned to look for ripe fruits, herbs and created healing balms and practise healing techniques. But you found it so uninteresting and boring, but you loved your people and your parents, so biting your tongue and carrying on would be enough for now. 

But it only lasted so long before you wanted to sit at the bottom of the reef in an act of protest and ignore your never ending list of responsibility as the tsakarem. When you went around begging some of the elder warriors to train you, they feared the wrath of your parents (mostly your mother) and told you to stop behaving like a child. Teyoa thought you were amusing and decided to teach you, but his teaching methods were weird and required the patience you simply did not have.

“I do not see how hitting this poor defenceless bag of sand is effective,” you would grumble, burying the end of your staff into the sand, leaning on the thick weapon. Teyoa circled around you as you ‘fought’ this bag of sand, not even using a ‘real’ weapon as you so eloquently put it.

“You must be patient, child. A good warrior and hunter is patient,” he lectured, picking the staff up out of the sand and handing it to you. “Again.”

You let out a sound of annoyance before you forced the stance Teyoa had ingrained into the fabric of your soul, holding the staff toward your enemy (bag of sand) and beginning your usual fighting techniques. Teyoa had his arms crossed as he watched you, studying your form. You had a strong heart and will, always wanting to prove yourself and while he had never seen someone with such a keen heart, you were impatient but he was sure you would see it one day.

Your hands were always covered in blisters and small bruises from your training with Teyoa. He told you that warriors had tough hands, they needed the strength to wield any weapon and battle any odds. Your eyes would sparkle at the thought and you were always proud of the injuries from your hard work– though hiding it from your parents proved to be a challenge in itself. Teyoa knew he could probably get into trouble for teaching the Olo’eyktan’s daughter to fight, but you were so adamant and protective of your people, it was hard to say no.

That was the routine most days– rise early to train with Teyoa and be back before your parents even realised you were gone. You had gotten better at fighting, you would easily hold yourself in a fight and wanted to prove yourself to your father but seeking out a fight wasn’t exactly the mark of a good warrior.

“Where are you going?” Tsireya asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and you stopped dead in your tracks, turning painfully slowly to face your little sister.

“Nowhere,” you replied pathetically.

She gave you a look of confusion as her gaze shifted from your head to your feet. Your tail twitched anxiously as she watched you, “it doesn’t look like you’re going nowhere.”

“Go back to sleep, Reya,” you whispered, heading toward the entrance of your family’s marui. Tsireya stood up from her mat, wrapping her arms around herself as she met you in the middle of the marui. 

“I see you do this every morning, sister. You’re worrying me,” she pouted. You sighed softly in defeat, turning to face your sister.

“I’m seeing a boy–”

“Lie.”

“I do not lie,” you replied, offended. 

“You lie all the time,” Tsireya retorted, “and you do not like any of the Metkayina boys. I see through your lie and I demand you tell me the truth,” she said a little louder. 

You sighed, running your hands down your face. It was impossible to lie to your sister, she knew you too well. “I’ve been training with Teyoa.”

Tsireya battled with the confession for a moment, “the old warrior?” she questioned.

“Yes, he’s been teaching me,” you replied.

“Mother and father will not be happy,” Tsireya commented, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m aware, hence the leaving at stupid times in the morning,” you said with a huff. Tsireya gave you that look she always gave when she was worried and you felt your heart squeeze. “I am careful, Reya. He has taught me many things, I feel I can defend our people and– and the tulkun.”

“We are not at war,” she quickly said, grabbing your hands and squeezing them in her own. “You do not need to fight. We are safe here–”

“The tulkun go missing, Reya. The other clans speak of their spirit brothers and sisters disappearing, I cannot let that happen,” you replied, holding Tsireya’s hands tightly. She looked at you with such worry in her eyes. “I feel it,” you said quietly, “I feel something is wrong, that something is coming.”

“You cannot be sure,” Tsireya sighed, shaking her head.

“I am the future Tsahik, sister. I think I know when Eywa speaks,” you teased. 

“You would be a good Tsahik,” she said after a beat, knowing how you felt about your duties as tsakarem. You smile at her words, cupping her cheek softly. She knew how you felt about your tsakarem duties, wishing so desperately to be a warrior instead of a healer. But you were soft when you wanted to be, she was convinced you would be an excellent Tsahik one day. 

“I must go,” you whispered, letting go of her hands. 

“Be careful,” Tsireya sighed, “you cannot be so sneaky forever.”

You turned around just before stepping outside your family’s marui, “watch me.”

You sat on the beach of the neighbouring island of Awa’atlu. Your legs were covered in sand as you worked on crafting your heavy bow. Metkayina preferred to use spears, but Teyoa taught you how to make a bow, a dying art in his opinion. You had been working on it for a couple of days in secret, not wanting your parents to find out you were spending your time making weapons instead of learning to perfect your healing techniques.

“Looks good,” Teyoa commented, holding a spear and woven basket of fish in his hands. You glanced up at him and let out a sigh.

“I cannot get the string tight enough, hardly a weapon for a warrior if you ask me,” you huffed, your fingers red and tired from the thin string that was steadily starting to wear at your poor fingers from how hard you’d been trying to pull it taut. 

Teyoa silently sat beside you on the sand, the heavily tattooed elder Metkayina fixing your sloppy handiwork in a matter of seconds. “Now it is a weapon fit for a warrior,” he grinned as he handed it to you. You stood up, feeling the weight of it in your hand. “It will take some getting used to–”

You lifted one of your crafted arrows, pulling the string taut before releasing it on an unsuspecting fish in the shallows of the reef. You ran toward the water, pulling the fish out with a grin on your face. Teyoa began to laugh softly.

“You overachieve,” he shook his head.

“Was that a compliment?” You teased.

“Hardly, child,” he chuckled. 

You practised your aiming skills in the shade of the forest, Teyoa occasionally correctly you but leaving you to practise for the most part. You definitely lost track of time because by the time you returned to the beach, the sun had risen over the vast horizon of Pandora, a grim reminder of the fact your parents were definitely awake and you were definitely not in the village.

“Oh, Eywa, no!” You almost yelled as you started running toward the beach, clicking your tongue to get your ilu’s attention. Teyoa stayed behind, picking up his woven basket full of fish he had caught earlier and watching as you scrambled through the water.

“I’d like to see you lie yourself out of this one!” Teyoa sang from behind you. He never took much seriously, he was too old (his words) to care much about ‘getting in trouble’. You, however, cared a lot. 

You dipped into the water with your ilu, quickly making tsaheylu as you tore through the water back toward your village– you were so dead and while your sister would try to cover for you; Tsireya was a pretty bad liar. Your ilu zipped through the coral reefs, pushing itself as hard as the poor animal could for your sake. You quickly surfaced, taking in a deep breath of air when you heard it– the loud horn you knew all too well.

That horn meant a few things: the tulkun were back, a ceremony was beginning or someone was missing, and given where you were and the fact that your parents had no idea, you were sure it was the latter. You dipped back before the surface, hoping and praying to Eywa your mother wouldn’t skin you for this one. 

You swam in through a small opening in the twisting branches around the reef, watching as your village gathered on the sandbank, probably copping a not-so-subtle interrogation from your father about your whereabouts before he sent out the search party. 

You definitely couldn’t lie your way out of this one.

Tsireya shifted anxiously as she stood by her brother, glancing around the crowd for you. She only half listened to her father as he spoke to these strangers from the forest, their sudden appearance in their village frightening the Metkayina. They were seeking uturu and while your father seemed to consider the idea, your mother scoffed at such an ask. 

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Tonowari made the decision to let Jake Sully and his family stay in their village. Tsireya knew it would be difficult for them as forest Na’vi learning the way of water, but she was eager to teach.

“Our children, Ao’nung, Tsireya and…” Tonowari let out a sigh as his eyes fell on only his two youngest, with you nowhere to be seen. Tsireya winced uncomfortably at her father’s gaze. He looked around for a moment before finishing, “they will teach your children our ways.”

“Where is your sister?” Ronal asked, pulling on Tsireya’s arm. Tsireya felt like she was going to explode, unable to form a single coherent thought that wouldn’t totally expose your little routine.

“I am here!” Your voice broke out across the beach, the crowd parting for you as you made your way toward your parents. You were out of breath, your chest huffing up and down and your hair a soaked mess from your panicked race home. “Mother, I am sorry, I–” You trailed off at the sight of foreigners in your village. You recognised them as forest Na’vi– why would forest Na’vi be here? There were six of them; a family. 

The forest was exceedingly far from your home in the reef and the family before you looked noticeably tired from their journey and you could only imagine how out of place they felt in your village. The youngest forest Na’vi looked at you curiously, hiding behind her father’s leg as she watched you, you smiled softly, the little Na’vi grinning back and holding her father’s leg. 

“My daughter,” your father said, your attention snapping back to him, “how nice of you to join us.”

You winced at the comment, some of the younger Metkayina snickering at the comment, your brother doing the same. Tsireya swatted at his arm, effectively shutting him up. You stepped toward your father, “Father, I–”

He held his hand up, silencing you. You were going to hear about this later, you were absolutely sure of it. “Help your sister move Jake Sully and his family into their marui,” he said lowly, to which you nodded, not daring to argue with him. “I want you to teach their children our ways,” he looked at Jake Sully and his family, “so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

Your father gave you a look, a look that silently asked you where you’d been while simultaneously telling you he didn’t want to hear it. Tsireya came to your rescue, quickly grabbing your hand and turning to smile at the forest Na’vi. “Come. We will show you our village.”

You walked alongside Tsireya through your village, watching as she peaked behind her occasionally at what you assumed was the youngest of Jake Sully’s sons. You followed her gaze, grinning softly at your adorable sister. She caught you watching her, becoming embarrassed. 

“What?” She questioned, completely unprompted.

“I said nothing,” you replied, trying not to laugh. You carried a few of the Sully’s belongings to the empty marui near the edge of the village, at least you could give them a little bit of privacy while they adjust to their new home. 

Tsireya shuffled into their marui, placing their things down, “this will be your new home,” she grinned sweetly. You trailed behind her, finally getting a good look at the entire forest family. You stared at them curiously, noticing their thin tails and arms, their darker blue skin and piercing yellow eyes. You had never seen Na’vi like this before and it intrigued you.

“Thank you, this is nice, right?” Jake turned to his mate and children, smiling through his wince as his mate dropped the rolled hide on the floor with a huff. Jake turned to you and your sister, “Thank you, Tsireya and… I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.”

Your ears perked at the sudden attention on you and you quickly told him your name, bowing your head softly. Your tail swished behind you as Jake introduced his family to you and your sister, “my mate, Neytiri,” she seemed displeased with the arrangement and was rather… intimidating. “My daughters Tuk and Kiri.” Tuk waved happily at you, to which you returned with a small smile while her sister Kiri seemed uncomfortable, pulling on the corners of her shawl. “And my sons Lo’ak and Neteyam.”

Tsireya smiled at the ground as Lo’ak caught her eye, smiling softly at your sister. But your eyes lingered on his oldest son, Neteyam. He watched you curiously and he was hard to read, he looked you up and down and you almost frowned. You stared back at him for a fleeting moment, wondering what his problem was.

“Right, well,” Tsireya said, pulling your attention to her, “we will leave you to settle and get some rest, we can go swimming in the reef later on,” she smiled politely, nodding her head as she grabbed your arm, pulling you out of their marui. 

You felt Neteyam looking at you as you left, turning your head to peek back at him. Eywa, what is his problem? You thought, making a face of disdain as you caught up with your sister. 

“What’s his problem?” You grumbled. You walked shoulder to shoulder with her as you made your way back to your parents in the middle of the village.

“You mean Neteyam?” Tsireya asked. You gave her a look and she giggled, “he was checking you out!”

“What? No, he wasn’t,” you frowned, a feeling of disgust pooling in your chest. Tsireya nudged your shoulder with a laugh.

“Oh, my sister. You may be a great warrior, a Tsahik in training and have a gift for scaring boys away, but he was definitely checking you out,” Tsireya babbled on and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t exactly unpopular when it came to boys wanting to court you, if anything, you did pretty well for yourself. But you simply weren’t interested in finding a mate any time soon, you were only sixteen, it felt ridiculous to rush into things (even though your parents pestered you about choosing a mate). 

“How ridiculous,” you retorted. “He is a forest Na’vi, we are reef Na’vi, I’m sure he was more preoccupied with our staggeringly different appearances,” you attempted to explain the reason for his lingering gaze but your sister really wasn’t having a bar of it. 

“Are you saying you didn’t think he was cute?” Tsireya asked, quirking a brow at you. You stopped in your tracks, giving her an unimpressed look. She let out a dramatic gasp, “you do think he’s cute!”

“I do not,” you retorted childishly.

“Do not lie!” She squealed. “I never thought I would see the day!”

“You pain me,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“My sister likes a boy!” She sang.

“I do not like him,” you grumbled as Tsireya danced circles around you with a grin on her face. She tugged on your arm as she jumped up and down with excitement. You would admit that he was cute but you were allowed to admire and ignore– that’s what you did best, because boys are usually cute until they open their big dumb mouths. 

a/n: hi! this is my first time writing for avatar, i hope you like it! i know there wasn't much of our teyam in this but there will be more! only if this does well tho :3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。08:00 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

idk i just felt like. writing haitham grieving his grandmother. it’s also a slight character study ig. idk if anyone will read this but if you do. just know that he is the core of my heart. his grandmother too i mourn her death so much sobs

“hey,” you say gently, sitting next to him. al-haitham only grunts in acknowledgment, slumped on the couch. “d’you want dinner? i made your favorite.”

“not hungry,” he mumbles.

his grandmother’s death anniversary is a sore spot. it’s a day you tiptoe around carefully every year. you don’t know much about his family—just that he was orphaned very young and raised by his father’s mother until the ripe age of 16. you’ve seen the dainty handwriting inside the covers of books, and you’ve even seen a small, framed photograph that he keeps stowed away.

sometimes, you wish he’d tell you. you wish the far away look and the clenched fist around the fabric of his pants would ease with your presence. you wish he’d tell you about her, that you’d know the woman who raised the man you love—even if only through hushed words and old stories.

“you hate sleeping on an empty stomach,” you hum, placing your hand over his clenched one.

his fist loosens a little—progress.

“i…” he pauses, let’s out a heavy sigh before letting his head fall back. there’s tension in his shoulders, in his neck, in the jaw he keeps so tightly clenched. “i won’t be sleeping for a bit. sorry,” he tries to sound apologetic. you don’t hear much in his tone besides defeat. “you can head in without me.”

“that’s okay,” you shrug, forcing his clenched fingers apart to weave yours in with his. “i don’t sleep well without you anyway.”

“suit yourself,” is all he says.

and it’s silent for a bit. he seems to be thinking deeply—or reminiscing, maybe grieving. maybe all three, but you’re not too sure. you’re never too sure when it comes to how al-haitham feels about anything.

he’s hard to decipher—but he’s easy to pull apart. you don’t understand how someone as hard and calculating as him is so gentle with love, but it’s hard not to notice how soft his touch is, how it lingers, how the tips of his fingers long for you. you don’t doubt he loves you—he never gives you the chance to.

but sometimes….sometimes you wish he’d let you love him properly. to kiss the scars. to admire the parts he thinks are ugly. to shelter the thoughts that have no home besides his own head.

it’s silent for a bit—until it’s not. you break the silence first, like you’re holding a hand out for him from the shore as he drifts aimlessly.

“baby?” you ask quietly. he grunts again in response. “what was she like?”

“who?”

al-haitham is a smart man. probably the smartest you’ve ever met. you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who read physics books as a pastime, and you’re pretty certain he’ll always be the only one. you know he knows exactly what you’re asking and you know he’s avoiding it.

but it doesn’t stop you though—it’s been long enough, you think. you’ve known him long enough. craved him for a few summers and loved him for enough winters that he has pieces of you that fall through the cracks of your resolve.

you think you deserve a few pieces of him too—even if your fingers have to reach past the cracks themselves, even if they have to slice against the jagged edges and bleed a little in the process.

you’ll bleed for him—like the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, your heart beats for al-haitham. and it’ll bleed for him too.

“your grandmother,” you whisper. “you’ve never told me about her.”

“there’s not much to tell,” he shrugs. “she died right before i enrolled in the akademiya and she raised me after my parents died.”

“i’m sure there’s more,” you say gently—his grip has tightened on your hand now. you don’t think he realizes—in fact, you don’t think al-haitham realizes half of what he feels when it comes to vulnerability.

it’s why he realizes he loves you so late. it’s why you fall first and he falls after. but he falls harder—it’s not hard to see.

“she was a kshahrewar scholar,” he offers blankly.

your thumb brushes over his knuckles, and it’s almost like your hand reaches past the shore just a little further—you don’t mind risking the fall into the water if it means pulling him out.

“haitham,” you sigh delicately. he swallows. it’s hard to keep composure for long—even for someone like him.

grief is an evil thing. it’s a familiar friend—one you wish you never made and one you’ll never shake away. it dances with you under the moonlight, when the stars are bright but the sky is heavy. it barely grazes your skin some days but weighs into your bones on others. it’s a cruel thing really—and it hits you harder some moments than others.

“she was kind,” he starts slowly, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours over the shoreline. maybe, just maybe, sometimes he can get tired of drifting too. “she liked to bake. her hands got too weak to knead dough when i got older, though. you would have liked her tarts. she couldn’t read without her glasses and she always forgot they were on her head. she said my father looked like her husband and that i look like my father. she used to ask me to read to her sometimes so i’d sit on her lap and read my books out loud. she loved the sunrise but was never good at waking up on time to see it. she used to drink tea during sunsets. she liked hers extra sweet and i liked mine more bitter. i…” he pauses, voice shaky as his fingers dig into your hand. you squeeze, and he sniffles. “i haven’t had tea since she passed.”

“she sounds lovely,” you whisper. “i would have loved to meet her.”

“she’d have loved you,” he cracks a small smile, shaking his head as he thinks. “probably more than she loved me.”

“i’m sure i’d never compare to her darling grandson,” you chuckle, bumping arms with him. his head drops to your shoulder—you hesitate for a moment before deciding to pull him into your chest. and when he doesn’t protest, when he buries himself into you instead of pulling away, you thread your fingers into his hair.

“i miss her,” he croaks quietly.

“i know,” you soothe. “i know, baby.”

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life. one is gone but it lives through the other. the gentle touch against his scalp and the warmth under his cheek is familiar—it feels like the lap he slept on when he was six. it feels like the delicate hands that cupped his cheeks when he was eight. it feels like the soft kisses against his temple when he was ten.

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life, and he’s glad that one of them is you.

“you’d have loved her too,” his voice breaks. you kiss his head as you feel your shirt dampen.

“i already do,” you murmur, “she raised you well. i have her to thank.”

his breath hitches at that—and then he pulls you closer, grasps you tighter, falls in love with you harder. his grandmother’s death anniversary has always been a sore spot—but somehow, you numb the ache even if by just a little.

gently, your hand clasps his and pulls him to shore. he’s grateful he doesn’t have to drift alone anymore.

there is nothing i’m more obsessed with than al-haitham’s childhood. i have so many thought about it. and him. and his character. and his inner thoughts and feelings and most of them revolve around his grandmother and more importantly her passing. and idk. he’s just sosososo important to me i wish we knew more about his grandmother. i love her so much i grieve her passing even though we’ve never even met her 😭