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badkitty3000 · 1 day ago

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Powerless

This is based on a request I received for a Five x female reader that is just as brilliant as Five, but too shy to act on her feelings for him.

Summary: You have had your eye on Five since he first started at the university. Eventually you build up a friendship, but even though you pick up a few hints that maybe he wants something more, you just can't bring yourself to act on it. Luckily, Five has more than enough confidence for the both of you.

Five x Female Reader, 9.5k words, One-shot, reader request

Warnings: Smut, dominant Five, explicit sex

Every time you saw him walk past your reference desk at the university library, it became that much more apparent. You wanted him. On the days he wasn’t there, it was easier to pretend that you had no real interest in him outside of the subject matter he lectured about. You told yourself that you were attracted to him on a purely intellectual level, and nothing more. As if the thought of advanced quantum physics got your pulse quickening and your cheeks flushing.

Then there were those days when he would stride purposefully past, a man on a mission, coffee cup in hand, and dressed in his signature tailored suit. That’s when your little lies to yourself became much harder to believe. He would lock eyes with you, scanning your face with his piercing gaze and half-smile, before continuing on his way and suddenly you couldn’t think straight. On those days, if someone approached you for a simple question, like the library hours, you would stare back at them for several seconds before having to clear your parched throat and ask them to repeat themselves.

Unfortunately, there was no getting around it: Five Hargreeves was not only brilliant, but also sexy as hell. And you couldn’t get him out of your head.

Not that it really mattered. It was no secret that he was a wanted man by most of the staff and students there. You would watch as the more out-going women and men would make a point of cornering him on his way out of his lectures, trying to block the doorway so he couldn’t move around them. Some of them would even find excuses to lightly brush against his arm or shoulder, pretending they were just being friendly, when you knew damn well they just wanted to touch him. You’d had the same urge yourself, but you certainly weren’t going to act on it.

Not only would you never have enough nerve to be that forward, but you have observed his reactions to these advances and it usually does not go well. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The way he flinches slightly at their touches. His obvious disinterest in whatever they are trying to talk to him about. The way he shoulders right past them with hardly a second glance; intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible.

But he always manages to take the route that goes past your desk, pausing sometimes like he wants to say something but then thinks better of it before hurrying away again.

Five has been working at the same university as you for the past several months. It was a big deal when he was first hired. He was the youngest professor they had ever had on their faculty, and everyone was curious. As it turned out, this twenty-something year old man was not what anyone had expected. He was incredibly smart, but he was also brusque, no-nonsense, and sometimes just flat out mean. When he had started, he was given his own office, but for classes he preferred to use the smaller lecture room inside the vast library, although there were plenty of real classrooms around campus that he could have chosen.

Reputation aside, you were inclined to believe there was more to him than being a young, handsome, snarky genius. You were always observant when it came to people, which was part of the reason you worked at the reference desk when you weren’t working on your doctorate. You liked the quiet of the library, and the smell of the books surrounding you. You liked watching people go about their business and the way they interacted with one another. You also liked helping people, even if you were, by nature, an introvert. When it came to talking about the subject matters that interested you, then it was hard to get you to shut up. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many people that wanted to casually chat about theoretical physics and the illusion of time. Most people just wanted to know where the bathroom was.

So, since his arrival, Five had been on your radar for people-watching, but you had never spoken to him. You had once lingered outside the door of one of his classes, watching as he hurriedly scribbled figures and theories on the board, all while his students tried in vain to keep up. When one would dare to interrupt him and ask a question, there would be an aggravated sigh and a terse answer before he would continue on. The subject matter of string theory and how the concept of time is only a reflection of change was nothing you didn’t already know. You were currently working on your own thesis in that area. At one point, you considered taking a seat in the back of the room, but decided against it. You didn’t really like attention drawn to you, and besides, the class was much too rudimentary. But you never failed to slow your step as you passed by the room when he was teaching, just to hear the sound of his voice.

**********************************

“Excuse me, but I can’t seem to locate this book.”

You were engrossed in your research when a piece of paper floated down onto your desk. You recognized the voice immediately, even before looking up. When you did, there he was, apparently waiting for your response. You had never been that close to him before, and he was possibly even more gorgeous up close. His dark brown, messy hair fell over his eyes as he peered down on you with an amused expression. A dimple started to form on his cheek when the corner of his mouth turned up. He was not a huge man, but he still dwarfed your diminutive stature. Nearly everyone was taller and bigger than you, so that wasn’t new. But the way he held himself and the confidence that he exuded made him appear that much larger. You found yourself wondering what the weight of his body would feel like on top of yours.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

You finally got your brain to start working again and you blinked a few times before sputtering out an answer. “What? Oh no, you’re not. I’m sorry…I was just in my own little world I guess. What can I help you with?”

Five pointed down at the paper he had pushed at you. “That.”

On the paper was the name of a physics book that you were already familiar with. “Time: From Concept to Narrative Construct,” you read out loud. You looked back up at him with a small smile. “This is a good one.”

“You’re familiar with it?” Five asked, surprised.

You nodded. “I’ve been consulting it myself for my own research.” Reaching down into your bag that was near your feet, you pulled out a copy. “That’s why you can’t find it. I didn’t think anyone would miss it since it’s just been gathering dust on the shelf for years.”

A genuine smile crossed Five’s face and he leaned in over the desk. “I’ve never met anyone else that would read that voluntarily.”

With a laugh, you held it out to him. “I don’t think I have either. But here you go.”

“No, it’s ok, you can keep it. It sounds like you need it more than I do. What is your research about?”

“I’m currently writing a thesis on the theory of time as a social construct. I know it’s been done, but I’m hoping I can find something new and exciting to add to the field.”

“Very interesting,” he mused while still wearing that sexy, know-it-all smile. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm and firm while his long, slender fingers wrapped around yours. After introducing yourself, you felt your face flush with heat. Just the simple touch of his hand was enough to send a little bolt of pleasure through your body and you looked down at the ground, tucking a strand of your long, brown hair over your ear.

Five seemed to hold onto your hand for longer than necessary, which was nice, but you knew it didn’t mean anything. He had clearly come over here for a book and nothing more.

“Maybe we can meet up sometime and discuss our theories,” he suggested.

You couldn’t believe he was actually suggesting that, but you held in your astonishment and just nodded with a smile. “That would be nice.”

With another cock-sure smirk, Five turned and walked away while you were left sitting there, staring after him with a dreamy look on your face.

The weeks passed and you and Five had become friends. Well, maybe not fully friends; it was hard to say with him. One minute you would be having an in-depth conversation and the next he was saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. You met for lunch at the university cafeteria to discuss everything from wormholes to the theory of time travel. When you started asking personal questions, though, he tended to shut up. But, that’s ok. You loved your little moments with him and being able to show off your intellect that nobody else appreciated.

“You really are incredibly smart, you know that, right?” Five said one day out of the blue, as you were picking at the wilted lettuce of your salad.

You looked up with raised eyebrows. “Oh…”

“I mean it,” he said, and suddenly his voice was much softer. The way he was looking at you was throwing you for a loop. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re brilliant.”

With your face flushed, you laughed softly. “Thanks, Five.”

He smiled and his green eyes flashed with something like affection before he looked down at his own food. You didn’t know what to make of this exchange, because there was no way in hell that he would be interested in you as anything more than a colleague. There was just no way. You watched as he took a drink of his water, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you almost made an audible whimpering noise at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to run your lips over his slender neck, and trail kisses under his strong jaw. He caught you staring at him and you quickly looked away.

************************************

The night you decided to go out with your friends, they had picked a loud dance club in the seedier part of town that was definitely not your usual scene. But you really needed a good time out with the girls to relieve some of your academic stress, so you didn’t argue. You wore a tight dress that showed off your petite frame, and curled your hair into waves that hung down your back. You slapped on some dark eye makeup and red lipstick before heading out.

The club was packed, with the music pumping and the dance floor full of people grinding all over one another. You were not in the mood for meeting anyone though, you were just there to hang out with your friends and have a couple of drinks.

As you shoved your way towards the bar, a hand grabbed onto yours. You instinctively pulled it away, but when you looked up to see who it belonged to, you saw Five. He had a drink in his hand, most likely whiskey or bourbon, and he was dressed in his signature suit. You tried to cover your excitement on seeing him, but you smiled broadly and tried to yell over the thumping bass.

“Five! Why are you here?”

He leaned in close to you to be heard. That was the closest you had ever been to him, with his mouth just inches from your ear. He smelled like aftershave and mint, with a slight hint of the whiskey he’d been drinking. The slight scruff from his cheek scratched lightly against yours for half a second. It was intoxicating and you closed your eyes as he talked.

“I could ask the same of you. This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

You shrugged. “This is where my friends wanted to go, so I just followed along.”

“Is that right? Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

When you looked at Five’s face, he had that smirk plastered on, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be flirty or not. He was just so damn hard to read.

“Depends on the person who is telling me,” you replied with a slight upturn of your red lips before blushing at your own minor innuendo.

A thoughtful look crossed over his face, followed by a slight nod of approval. “I see.” Then he leaned in close to your ear again. “That is very good to know.”

You chose to brush this comment away before it started taking up residence in your brain and causing all sorts of dirty thoughts. He was just trying to have a conversation, that’s all and nothing more. If it was coming across as flirty, it was probably because his drink had loosened him up.

“So, you didn’t answer me before. This place doesn’t seem like your scene, either. Why are you here?”

Five nodded towards the bar where a tall, lanky man in tight pants appeared to have a small group of people engrossed in a story while he gestured animatedly with a shot glass in his hand. “My stupid brother dragged me here.”

“Oh,” you said with a sly grin. “Do you always do what other people tell you to do?”

Five slowly shook his head ‘no’, then took a long drink from his glass, all while looking you in the eyes. “Not really. I’m usually the one calling the shots.”

You swallowed hard, and looked nervously around. You didn’t want him to see you acting like a fool just from some little throw away comment that you were making a big deal about in your head.

“Well, I was on my way to get a drink.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you continued. “I plan on going out on the dance floor, though.” You paused. “You should join us out there.”

Five laughed sharply. “Oh, fuck no.”

Thinking maybe you insulted him somehow, you looked away again. “Oh, well…ok. I’ll see you around I guess?”

His hand came to rest on your shoulder. “I might not dance,” he said, brushing his cheek against yours as he talked close to your ear again. “But watching you out there would be more than enough entertainment for my night.”

Once again, you were thrown by his comment. It could be taken as flirty, but then again, why would he be flirting with you? He must have been teasing you; insinuating that you would look silly dancing. Suddenly your face was burning again.

“Yeah…ok,” you said quietly, unable to hide your embarrassment. “Bye, Five.”

As you walked away, you felt him staring after you. You didn’t dare turn around, but you could picture the intensity of his gaze on your back. He had rattled you, and because you didn’t know what to make of his comments, you couldn’t decide if you should be annoyed or not. After getting your drink and heading to the dance floor to join your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You had lost track of him in the crowd after your exchange, but you knew he was still there because his brother was still holding court over at the bar. So, the fact that maybe he was watching you made your body tingle with excitement. If he was, then you decided to put on a decent show for him.

For the next hour, you never left the dance floor. The music continued on an endless loop of pounding basslines, while strobe lights flashed over the crowd, dulling your senses and lulling you into a trance. Swaying your body with the beat, hands in the air, while you worked your hips and ass in enticing circles, you lost all of your usual inhibitions. You weren’t sure where your group of friends had gone, but you didn’t care. As you looked out into the sea of strangers surrounding you, one familiar face stood out.

It was Five, and he was indeed watching you. The strobe lights created an eerie effect of showing him clearly one second, and then gone the next. Each time he reappeared into your view, he was closer. Making his way through the throng of dancers, he slowly neared you, never taking his eyes off you. When he finally reached you, you stopped dancing. It was much too loud and overstimulating on the dance floor to try and talk, so you both stood staring at one another with half-smiles on your faces. After a moment, you started moving with the beat again. Five continued to stand still, his drink in hand. Laughing, you turned around so that you were faced away from him, and continued your sensual dance moves.

You knew you looked good in your tight dress, and even though you still weren't sure of his intentions, you wanted Five to notice. Another minute passed before you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. You were pulled flush with their body as they moved in rhythm with you. Warm breath fanned across your shoulder and neck, and you smiled to yourself. Pushing back against them, you let your head fall back onto their shoulder while your hands came to rest on top of theirs.

“Five…” you started to say as you turned your face towards him.

The face that greeted you, however, was not the one you were expecting. This was a stranger; some man you had never seen before and he was running his hands all over your body while his erection poked into your ass.

You shrieked and tried to pull away. “Get off of me!”

The club was loud and the lights were disorienting as you struggled against the man, but he just held you tighter. You could see the predatory smile on his face, making your skin crawl. Clawing at his arms that were wrapped around you, you tried to throw your body backwards to loosen his grip. That only seemed to make things worse by pushing your ass harder into his groin. You heard him moan next to your ear and you started to panic.

“Let go, you stupid fucker!” you screamed next to his face while trying to kick and pry his arms off of you. You scanned everyone around you, trying to catch the eye of someone that may be able to help. Everyone was lost in their own worlds, and no one was paying any attention to the sexual assault that was occurring just a few feet away.

Something you did must have worked because suddenly his arms were ripped away from you and you were free. There was a loud cry of surprise from the crowd around you, and when you spun around, you saw the offending man lying in a heap on the floor. A circle of people had formed around him while he writhed on the ground holding his bleeding face.

That’s when you saw Five again. He was standing over the man, glaring down at him with a sneer, while his hands remained balled into fists at his sides. As his chest rose and fell with angry breaths, his eyes met yours.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, although no one could hear you. “Five.”

Taking a few stalking steps towards you, he grabbed onto your arm, pulling you to him with a worried look. You couldn’t hear him, but you could read his lips. “Are you ok?”

You nodded with wide eyes, still trying to fully understand the situation. Before anything else could be said or done, a large bouncer made his way through the crowd. Seeing that there was an injured man on the ground and that Five was clearly the cause of it, he immediately grasped onto Five’s upper arm and pulled him away from you.

“Come on, asshole. Out you go,” he snarled while pushing Five in the direction of the door.

“No wait!” you tried to yell out, but your voice was lost in the deafening music again.

The man Five had clocked had struggled to his feet and was stumbling away, still holding his badly broken nose. The rest of the crowd went back to their previous dancing and the circle filled in again. You were left looking at the back of the bouncer’s head as he forced Five out of the club.

Looking around for your friends, but not seeing them, you pushed your way through the dense dance floor and out into the bar area. It was still crowded, but less so, and the strobe lights weren’t affecting your vision anymore. You saw the door to the club open and close again, with the bouncer walking back towards you, alone, and you hurried towards the exit.

Outside, your ears were ringing as you took in a deep breath of the cool night air. When you saw him sitting on the curb, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Five!” you cried, before hurrying over. He looked up at you through his fringe of hair before sweeping it off his forehead with a smile. “Holy shit.” You sat down next to him, keeping your legs straight out in front of you so that your short dress wouldn’t ride all the way up. “Are you ok?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m ok. Are you?”

You nodded. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I saw some creep trying to molest you, and since it didn’t look like you were appreciating it very much, I thought I’d intervene.”

“Wow,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “I had no idea you were the knight in shining armor type.”

“I don’t think my armor is very shiny, it’s pretty tarnished most days,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, anyway…thank you.”

He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read, but his facial features had softened. “You’re welcome.”

You glanced down at his right hand. “Oh shit…your hand. It’s all bruised.”

Five flexed his fingers and shook out his hand. “This is nothing. I’ll be fine.”

When you ran a thumb lightly across his reddened knuckles, you thought you heard a hitch in his breathing. But when you looked back at his face, you found it unreadable again.

“Thank you again, Five. Really.”

He nodded and then looked back at the club. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be welcome back there again, not that I’m complaining. But you go back in. Go have fun with your friends.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Sit here until my brother decides he’s had enough of being a slut so I can go home.”

You pulled your mouth to the side in thought and then bumped his shoulder with your own. “You know, that club isn’t all that great. The fresh air feels good, actually.”

Five didn’t say anything, but you did see a slight smile cross his lips before it was gone again. He looked over at you, his face more serious than you’d seen it before, with his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made you want to attack his mouth with your own.

“I used to be special, you know,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I was born with special abilities. The power to time travel and teleport. I had them most of my life. Then they were violently ripped away from me and I haven’t been the same since.”

You stared back at him, not knowing what to make of this. He was clearly joking, but you couldn’t figure out what the joke was. His face was dead serious and his tone of voice conveyed an air of sadness.

“I don’t understand,” you answered hesitantly.

He shook his head with a short laugh and raked a hand through his hair again. “I know, I sound like a lunatic. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true.” He looked off into the distance and sighed, pulling his legs up and resting his arms on his knees. “I spent most of my long life cursing the powers I had because they only ever seemed to bring me more misery. But now that I am finally rid of them…I can’t explain it, but it’s…” His voice trailed off as he searched for the word he wanted. “Painful.”

The way he said ‘painful’ cut right to your heart and you lightly rested your fingers on his arm. “What is painful, Five?”

He continued to look out at the dark sky. “You know, back there, when I punched that fucker in the face? That felt so much better than it should have. It was a rush I hadn’t felt in a long time. And yet…it still wasn’t the same. With my powers, I could have really wasted him. Probably would have had some smart-ass comment for him, too. And I sure as shit wouldn’t have been caught by some lumbering, asshole bouncer, no matter how much bigger he was than me.” He sighed again before turning to face you. “I know this makes no sense and you probably think I’m fucking insane, and I’m sorry. I just…fuck…some days I wish I weren’t so goddamn ordinary.”

“Five, you are the least ordinary person I know. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

His eyes searched your face and suddenly you realized how close you were to one another.

“But you don’t believe me, do you?” he softly.

You paused, taking in the sadness that was evident in his eyes. He somehow appeared years older, with the weariness of an older man. What he said made no sense. But you didn't think he was crazy.

“I believe you, Five.”

His eyebrows furrowed even more. “You do?”

“I think so. But I’d love for you to tell me more about it. I’d like to hear about your life.”

“I’d like to tell you,” he said with a slight nod.

A cool breeze passed over you and you shivered. Five shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders. You resisted the urge to bury your nose into the fabric to inhale the scent of him. Instead, you just smiled.

“Again, very chivalrous of you,” you teased.

He smiled. “Don’t get used to it.”

After another glance back at the bar behind you, you turned back to Five. “Well, it doesn’t look like the people we came here with are going to be joining us anytime soon. So, how about you tell me everything now.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You’ve got me curious now.”

Five paused. “Yeah, alright. Why not? But just so you know, I won’t blame you if you suddenly want to run back inside or down the street to get away from me.”

You laughed. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

“Well, just wait.”

Over the next hour, you and Five sat on the curb, ignoring the drunken groups of people that would come stumbling past you on their way in or out of the club. You were fully invested in his story. The longer he talked, the more enchanted you became, until it felt like you and he were the only people in the world. He told you all about past timelines, his power to manipulate time and space, and his ultimate downfall that led to a lifetime of loneliness and suffering. He explained about his family and all of their suffering, as well. How he just wanted to save the world and all of them with it. And about how a few years ago, it was all stripped away from him.

“So, being that I had no identity and I looked like a fucking child, I didn’t have a lot of prospects. My family took me in for a while until I figured things out, which I am grateful for but was no picnic. Eventually, I was able to secure a few fake documents in order to get a job and weasel my way into an upstanding position.” He flashed you a devious smile. “That PhD I have hanging in my office? Not exactly legit.”

You laughed, astonished. “You mean you don’t have a doctorate?”

Five shook his head. “Worse. I don’t even have a high school diploma.”

Your mouth hung open for a minute before you let out a loud, long laugh. “Holy shit! You really are a genius!”

Five laughed along with you until you both quieted down and a comfortable calm settled over you both. When he looked at you, he appeared lighter. Like he wasn’t so world-weary anymore.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“Listening. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone to talk to about this.” He looked away again. “And I don’t expect you to believe any of it, but the fact that you didn’t run away screaming means a lot.”

“I already told you. I believe you. And thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“Trusting me. Not too many people confide in me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m usually so quiet, or because I’m small and look younger than I am. But no one seems to take me seriously most of the time. So, thank you for seeing something else in me.”

“I see a lot of things in you,” Five said.

Just as you were about to convince yourself that maybe there was something going on between the two of you after all, the bar door opened behind you, the sound of thumping music and loud laughter spilling out into the night. When you turned, you saw your group of friends come stumbling out, giggling and falling over one another.

“There you are!” one of them laughed, pointing in your direction.

“Ooh, she’s not alone, either.”

As your face burned bright red, another one of your friends made a loud shushing noise. “Shut up, you guys…she’s trying to seal the deal. Damn, girl, go for it! He’s smoking hot!”

“Ok, then…” you said over the loud laughter, barely risking a glance in Five’s direction. You slipped his jacket off and handed it back to him. “I am so sorry. They’re usually not this obnoxious, I swear.”

Five chuckled. “I’m very familiar with being surrounded by obnoxious people.”

You stood up and Five followed. Your friends started to flag down a cab as you awkwardly smiled down at the ground.

“Thanks again for punching that guy.”

“My pleasure.” He paused. “By the way,” Five started with a grin. “I wasn’t initially sure you needed help. It looked like you were enjoying it for a second there.”

When you looked at him, he tilted his head to the side with a cocky smirk, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. Your face burned hotter.

“Um…yeah. I guess I thought it was someone else at first,” you answered truthfully.

“Hmmm…” Five mused. “Interesting.”

Just then, you heard your friends call you over as a cab pulled up. With a wave, you left Five on the curb and got in the car. But the rest of your night was consumed with thoughts of him, and the amazing story he had told you.

*****************************

A week passed and you had been working late. The campus was quiet on the way to your car, but on a whim, you decided to cut through the building where Five kept his office. As luck would have it, you saw the light on behind the frosted glass of the door. You thought briefly of passing right by, but then you gathered enough courage to rap lightly against the frame. After a few seconds, he opened the door.

Looking amazingly fuckable, Five had shed the jacket and vest of his usual three-piece suit, and was left in his white dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was messier than normal, and when your gaze drifted behind him, you saw an opened bottle of whiskey on his desk.

“H-hi,” you stuttered out. “Am I interrupting you?”

Five paused for a second, looking you up and down, before shaking his head slowly. “No.”

He didn’t elaborate and you thought maybe you’d made a mistake coming there, but he suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever haze he had been in. He opened the door wider and gestured inside. “Please, come on in.”

You nodded, stepping inside, and he shut the door behind you with a loud click that made you jump. He was still eyeing you up as he walked to his desk and picked up the bottle of liquor.

“Can I pour you a drink?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

After another moment of silence, with just the slosh of liquid and clink of the bottle against the desk to fill the quiet, Five handed you the glass. You took it from him and his fingers brushed against yours in the process.

You cleared your throat before taking a small sip. The whiskey burned on the way down, but it was delicious. “What are you doing here so late?”

Five shrugged. “Just don’t feel like going home.”

He wasn’t exactly being short with you, but you could tell he was holding something back. After your deep conversation that night outside the club, you felt that you had made a real connection with one another. This, however, seemed like you had taken a step backwards.

“Oh.” You looked around, noticing the somewhat messy mahogany desk that acted as his work station. Behind it rose a wall of bookshelves that were filled with what you imagined to be very advanced physics texts. There didn’t appear to be any real personal items anywhere. No photos of family. No trinkets or tchotchkes on display. Not even any awards or plaques, although you were sure he’d earned some.

“So,” you started nervously. “I’ve figured out my thesis.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. The theory of time travel and its hypothetical consequences on multiple timelines.”

He paused before snorting out a laugh and taking a drink out of his own glass. “Sure you are.”

“I’m serious. You opened my eyes to a whole new world and I want to learn more about it. I thought…you know…I thought you could help me with my research. Since you have first hand experience.”

His eyebrows drew together as he peered at you over his glass. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Throw your entire life’s work down the drain for some stupid ass theory that no one is going to believe. They’ll laugh at you.”

You were hurt, but tried to hide it behind a small smile. “People will believe, Five. I believe you. And we have the scientific facts to back it up. Or, at least, you do. But you can teach me. You can explain all of the physics required to work your powers.”

“I don’t have any powers,” he said dryly.

You sighed loudly. “You know what I mean. Come on, I thought you would be excited by this.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I can help with whatever you need.”

There was another awkward pause while you regarded one another, but since he didn’t say anything else, you assumed that was the end of the conversation.

“Thank you. This is really going to change our field, Five, you have no idea.” You set your glass down on the desk. “Well, it’s late, so I’ll leave you be. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

As you moved towards the door, you heard him slam his glass down next to yours. “That’s it?”

When you spun around, you had never seen him looking at you the way that he was right then. You obviously had made him mad in some way, but you weren’t sure what it could have been. His darkened eyes narrowed as they scanned your face and then your body, the muscles in his jaw working in quiet concentration. It unnerved you, but it also made your heart flip in your chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“What more do you want from me?” he asked, voice low and measured.

You swallowed hard, voice trembling as you answered him meekly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what else to do to make you notice me.”

“I…I do notice you. Of course I do. We have a whole thing…I thought we were friends…I…,” you stammered before he cut you off with a shake of his head and a step towards you that had you backing up.

“That’s not what I mean and you fucking know it,” he stated plainly, right before he took another step and then another, all the while corralling you away from the door and back into the room.

You sucked in a loud breath as your butt hit the desk behind you, trapping you. “Five…I really don’t–”

“Stop,” he hissed. “You’re the smartest person I know, so cut the shit. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Stop pretending that you don’t.”

At that, you felt a fire light inside of you. It was a combination of the months-long hunger you’ve felt for him and the urge to defend yourself against his asshole remarks.

“Whatever the fuck you’re talking about Five, I’m not playing your little guessing game. If you’re accusing me of something, just say it.”

His lips curled into a sinister smile as he crowded into your personal space. “Fine, I can be blunt. I have done everything I can think of these past few months. We had good conversations, we connected; I tried flirting, although I admit I’m not very good at it. I knocked some shit head to the ground for you.” He stopped and swallowed hard, his voice becoming quieter. “I told you everything.”

“But you’re still not telling me what you want,” you argued, trying to stay strong as your eyes drifted to his lips.

“You,” he rasped. “I want you. And I think you fucking know that.”

You shook your head almost imperceptibly. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Liar,” he said with a smirk before closing the few inches between you, making you lean back with your hands supporting you on the desktop behind you. You drew in a sharp breath as his hand trailed gently over your cheek, spreading what felt like fire across your skin as he placed his palm against the side of your neck. “Tell me the truth.”

With a hard, audible swallow, you raised your hand to clasp it around his wrist. His skin was warm against yours and you could feel his thrumming pulse under your fingers. “I want you, too. I just didn’t think–”

Cut off from finishing your thought, Five’s mouth was on yours in a heartbeat. Your lack of resistance was immediate as you gave into him; kissing him urgently as you clenched harder onto his wrist. The quiet whimper that you gave made him smile as he used his teeth to gently nip at your bottom lip.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” Five said when he pulled away.

“What have you been thinking about, exactly?” you said with a flutter of your eyelashes. You weren’t sure where this new assertiveness was coming from, but you let your free hand slide down the side of his chest and stomach before hooking a finger into the belt loop of his pants.

A feral look crossed Five’s face as he pressed into you. With an easy twist of his wrist, he forced your hand off of him until he was the one grasping yours. Taking your soft gasp as a positive reaction, he did the same with your other hand. He leaned his head in close, his eyes closing as he brushed his lips against yours for just a second.

“Fucking you,” he replied plainly, as if that were obvious, his voice even and low. He pushed his thigh between your legs. “Right here.” His mouth trailed along your jaw; the scruff of his chin scraping against your neck. “Making you come on my cock while you’re moaning my name.”

As if he put some sort of spell on you, you automatically whined out, “Five…,” as your eyes fell shut and you pressed your groin against his leg.

“Just like that,” he praised with a smirk, holding your wrists just a little tighter. “Only louder.” When your hazel eyes opened again, they were met with his emerald ones staring steelily down on you. “We could play this game a little more, but I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You blinked up at him, your lips parted, and you gave him a small nod of assent.

He dove onto your mouth again, his tongue slipping inside, as he squeezed your wrists. When he moaned quietly, his body flush with yours again, you tried to free your hands so that you could feel more of him, but he held tight. When he moved away from your mouth, he slid his soft lips over your cheek and down your neck, nuzzling into you with his nose and chin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. You’re the only one that understands me,” he whispered before finally letting go of your wrists and boosting you up onto the desk. Your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs just enough to let him stand in between.

Letting your hands roam over the soft material of his dress shirt, following the curve of his firm, trim waist, and around to his back, you answered him softly. “I do understand you, Five. You’re amazing.”

He didn’t say anything to that, only continued kissing down your neck and over your collarbone. His fingers came to rest at the hem of your sweater, lifting it just slightly above your waistline before stopping. Drawing his head back, he looked deeply into your eyes. That untamed intensity was still there and you held your breath in anticipation of what was going to come next.

“Do you know how to be a good girl?” he asked in that tone that made your mouth water.

His brazenness took you off guard, but only for a second. Fuck, you wanted to be his good girl more than anything. “Yes,” you breathed out a little too eagerly; the panties under your skirt already soaked.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face and then your chest. “Because I’m going to need you to be very, very good for me.”

You had never been so hot for someone in your life, and you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t feel more of his body on you. He pushed his hips in closer, his hard cock dragging across your pelvis, and enticing you even more.

“Five…” you whimpered.

“Shhh,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you. The feel of his lips against yours and the heat of his skin was too much and you bucked your hips sharply against him, your butt sliding forward on the desk. He drew back from your mouth, breathing hard. “Stay quiet for me, ok, sweetheart? Can you do that?”

With another pathetic nod of your head, you let him completely take command. He pulled your body roughly towards him, moaning quietly as his fervent kisses deepened and you gave yourself over to whatever power he had over you. He could have told you almost anything, and you would have followed his orders. He was all you needed; all you cared about at that moment. And, fuck, if he didn’t feel amazing with his sizeable dick straining in his pants and pressing against you.

Five was back to pulling at the bottom of your shirt, but this time he didn’t stop. You helped him by raising your hands over your head while he yanked it off. Taking a moment to look you over, his hands made their way around to your back, already working at your bra clasp. You didn’t protest, and soon you were topless while his eyes roamed hungrily over your naked chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he moaned before attacking your mouth again.

You made soft moaning noises as his fingers grazed over your breasts and down your stomach. You had spent so much time imagining what this would feel like and now it was really happening. He had pulled away again, breathing hard as he watched his own hands as they sensually massaged your tits, before moving down and around again. As he squeezed your ass roughly, you captured his mouth with yours, not willing to wait for him to come to you. He didn’t resist or back off, even as he continued exploring your body. Sucking at his lips, biting voraciously because you couldn’t get enough, you devoured as much of him as you could get.

Your breath was ragged and harsh as you breathed through your nose, unable to tear yourself away from his delicious taste. With a sudden flinch, Five drew back from you, leaving you panting for air. Raising his hand to his mouth, he pulled his fingers away, showing a small amount of blood on them. Five smiled evilly and licked at his lower lip.

“Biting?”

With a slow smile, you blinked up at him. “I’m sorry. You just taste so damn good.”

He made a humming noise low in his throat as he regarded you thoughtfully. With no warning, he pulled you off of the desktop, and spun you around, ignoring your sharp cry of surprise. With the edge of the desk digging into your lower stomach, you felt Five’s hands on either side of you, his strong fingers grasping at your hips. The unmistakable feeling of his hard cock pushing against your ass was next, and you supported yourself with your hands as you pushed back in response.

One of Five’s arms snaked around to hold you tighter across the front of your waist as he leaned over, covering your back with his body and nuzzling his face against the side of your neck.

“Good girls don’t bite,” he warned, his voice thick with lust. “You lied again.”

You shook your head, your hair hanging down and covering your face. “No, I can be good.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured into your neck. “Let’s see about that.”

Five moved his body so that he had you fully at his mercy. Trapped between him and the desk, you could barely move, and he was strong enough to keep you there as long as he wanted. But you had no desire to leave. Feeling him hard, with his chest heaving against your back, and his harsh breath covering your shoulders, you couldn’t think of any place else you’d rather be.

His hands were on your tits again, squeezing and pushing them together, all while he sucked painful bruises down your neck. You would be marked with his love bites tomorrow, that much was clear, and there would be no way to fully cover them. You had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted, though. Just the thought of everyone seeing what he had done to you was enough to send another surge of wetness between your legs.

Five’s hands slowly made their way down your sides and then your thighs, before coming to the hem of your skirt. This time, unlike with your sweater, he did not hesitate to pull it up. Bunching it around your waist, you were fully exposed to him, aside from the very small pair of thong underwear you were wearing.

“Oh, fuck,” Five moaned as he caressed your ass cheek, and then gave it a light slap. “God, this ass is perfect.”

He enveloped your entire body again, leaning over you so that your upper half was forced down onto the desk. You let out a whimper and bit at your lower lip in an effort to control yourself. You wanted him so badly it hurt, but you also wanted to be good for him, just like he asked. So instead of crying out and begging for him to fuck you, you stayed quiet. The only signs that you were desperate for him were the harsh sounds of your breathing and the way your ass rhythmically rocked against his crotch as if it had a mind of its own.

His fingers wound into your hair as he gave it a tug, forcing your head back as he whispered softly against your neck; his lips tracing feather-light patterns over your skin, but never kissing you.

“Tell me you want me.”

Your answer caught in your throat as you closed your eyes. “I want you.”

Five moved his mouth down to your shoulder, the vibration of his dark voice sending a blissful chill down your spine.

“Tell me you want my cock.”

“I want your cock,” you whined, not even a little ashamed of your submission or arousal.

When Five’s fingers slid their way around your front and into the side of your panties, you gulped in a loud breath and exhaled with a sigh. He knew what he was doing, that much was clear, and he began quickly working you into a frenzy while you shamelessly rolled your hips with each stroke of his hand. Slowly massaging your throbbing clit with his thumb, he entered you with his middle finger. You were so wet for him that you were dripping down his hand and onto his wrist. That just seemed to urge him on, and he continued to slide in and out of your hole with ease, hitting every nerve on the way, until you were moaning and panting with desire.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded. He sucked another bruise onto your shoulder and pressed his thumb harder against you, making you cry out.

“Yes! Please…I want you to fuck me!”

“Say it again.”

“Five!” you whined pitifully. “I want you to fuck me! I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for so long. Just…please!”

With a quiet laugh, Five removed his fingers from between your legs. In another second, he was pulling your panties down your hips and thighs, until they fell onto the floor. Left in nothing but your bunched up skirt, you waited for his next move.

For a minute, you only heard the rustling of clothing mixed with his harsh breathing. When you looked to the side, you saw his shirt being discarded onto the floor. You instinctually made to turn around, but he immediately placed a hand on your back, keeping you in place. His palm was warm and firm against your bare skin as you submitted to his wordless request. The sound that followed was the clinking of metal on metal as he began to undo his belt with his one free hand.

You involuntarily pushed your ass back, but received nothing in return except for a low chuckle. The agonizingly slow pace with which he was unzipping his fly was killing you. A thin river of your arousal slipped down the inside of your thigh, but you could do nothing but wait.

When finally you felt his warm, thick cock slide against your backside, you let out a shaky groan.

“What do you think, sweet girl?” he teased, rubbing the swollen head between your legs, spreading your wetness over you both. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes…fuck yes…” you gasped. You could barely make out any words; your focus was entirely on his dick and how badly you wanted him inside of you.

You widened your stance when he used his foot to gently nudge your feet apart and allow him better access. His hands grasped at your hips as he pulled you back, and you let your head hang down.

Five eased his cock into your waiting pussy, pausing a few times as he stretched you open. You forgot to breathe as he pushed slowly into you until you were fully penetrated and you heard him make a low growling noise as his pelvis became flush with your ass.

“Five,” you whispered under your breath as you remembered to take in oxygen again.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, the restraint evident in the tightness of his voice.

You arched your back in desperation and made a sad, crying noise that might have sounded painful if you didn’t answer him loudly. “More! Five, please!”

Hugging you tightly to his chest, his dick still fully buried inside of you, he moaned against your shoulder. “Fuck…you are my good girl, aren’t you?”

After one grunting slap of his hips against your ass, you braced yourself with your hands in preparation. Any restraint that Five had been holding onto before that moment was lost, and he began fucking you hard and rough; pounding his thick cock into you over and over again while you whined and moaned beneath him. He told you how beautiful you were, and how long he had been waiting for this moment, all while driving himself deeper inside of you. His dick was hitting just the right spot and you had never felt this amount of intensity from someone else before. You wanted more. It didn’t matter that he was giving you everything he had, his firm body covering your back and his warm mouth brushing down your neck. You still wanted more.

When his fingers found their way to your clit again, that’s when you started to really lose it. You sounded like you were sobbing as you cried out his name, but it was all from pleasure and you reached down to press his hand harder against you.

“Yes…oh god…fff–oh yeah…oh my god…Fi-ive…aaAHH!”

Right as you were about to tip over the edge, Five pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “Let me come inside you. Please.”

You nodded eagerly and squeaked out a weak “Yes” before fully giving yourself over to the building warmth in your groin. The orgasm that washed over you was the most intense you had ever experienced. Your entire body was trembling as your fingers dug into the desktop and your ass pushed back against him in sporadic thrusts. Five delivered one last punishing drive before his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside of you. Your moans were mixing together, combining with the humid air from your collective panting. The scent of sex and arousal filled the room as hot waves of pleasure pulsed over you both. Five’s last rasping growl faded out as you tried to catch your breath. He held you close to him, his hair tickling your neck as his damp chest heaved against your back.

When he slipped out of you, he placed a soft kiss next to your ear before letting you go and backing away. You turned around, facing him for the first time since he had bent you over the desk. His hair was disheveled, with strands of it sticking to his forehead. His eyes that were once dark and piercing were back to their soft green as he gave you a shy smile and pushed his hair back. You took in his hard body, all sculpted abs and lean muscle. Your mouth watered at just the sight and even though you were still in the process of coming down from the strong orgasm he just gave you, you couldn’t help wanting him again.

“Well…” you said with a smile as you leaned back against the desk. “You may not have a real doctorate, but I can say with certainty that you have earned a very real Phd in fucking, Professor Hargreeves.”

Five’s eyebrows raised up his forehead before letting out a shocked laugh.

“What?” you said with a casual shrug. “I’m an introvert…not a prude.”

“Clearly,” Five noted with a smile before bending down to pull up his pants that were still around his ankles.

“No, no,” you said. “Don’t bother. Just take them off.”

With another pleasantly surprised smile, Five did just that and stepped out of his pants. While you pushed your skirt the rest of the way off, he neared you again, holding you close to his naked body and looking down on you with gentle eyes. His hand came to rest on the side of your face.

“I know I’m not special anymore, but you gave me something back. Something I had lost. Thank you.”

“Five, you are special. You’re special to me.” He leaned down to kiss you sensually, and your body responded immediately, already trying to pull him in for more. “Besides,” you smiled as you perched yourself up on the desk again, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I think you just proved you have all the power you need.”

Five’s arrogant grin grew as he pressed his already hardening cock between your legs. “That I do, sweetheart. But, I think we may need to prove this a few more times.” He kissed you roughly on the mouth. “For science.”

#number five x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #number five smut #five hargreeves smut #tua smut #five hargreeves #number five #female reader #reader insert #smut requests #requests open #five x reader #five x you #badkittywrites

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marril96 · 7 hours ago

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Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #aaa #agatha all along #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

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bansurii · 15 hours ago

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cocktail

cw: sukuna x reader x yuji }{ yuji has DID and sukuna is his other personality}{ smut, mental disorders, trigger warnings, just don't read it if you cannot handle mental illness discussions and things of the like }{ also reader is a psych major }{ reader choice at bottom for smut }{ unedited, wrote in an hour haha hope you enjoy }{mdni

you didn't expect anything at first. he was cute, he was talkative, he was gentle. you liked his vulnerability, his openness, his judgement-free zone, his carefree and childlike attitude. he was super fucking dope!

you had sex a couple times and it blew your fucking mind. better than anyone you had ever been with. as you started to get to know him more and better than before, you started to fall in love with him. albeit, there were growing feelings anyway from his plans for his life and the way he talked to you as if you had known each other for years. the chemistry was truly unparalleled.

he was everything you asked and more.

after a while, you began to notice subtle changes. small, but noticeable enough. and for a while, you said nothing.

until one night, he said something that made you realize something absolutely startling. it had you on the edge of your mental seat. physically, you were calm. or you'd hoped you looked calm.

he noticed how uneasy you got even if you were damn near unreadable. the part of him that became apparent to you, the version of himself that he tried hard to bury had come through in subtle ways. he knew it scared you, but it was hard for him to hold that part of himself back. he knew that only one of two things would happen whether you left or not.

his insanity would get the best of him and you would accept it, or he would wake up and realize you were gone. as if you had never existed. but the residuals were there. a mark left that could never be removed.

he was obsessed with you. you gave him something no one has given him in a very long time; kindness, vulnerability, friendship, everything he asked and more. you weren't afraid of him in the beginning like most were before. some say they saw someone in him that scared them beyond return. some say it was just his energy. but he wasn't sure what you saw. maybe you were naive. or maybe you knew it but shoved the thoughts and feelings down because you were going through a drought and needed it bad.

but he knew deep down and so did the part of himself he hid: you were the perfect one for him.

he didn't know how long this would last. hell, he didn't even think it would last this long. but he knew he wanted it. he knew he couldn't let you leave him. he knew he couldn't stay away from you. he needed you in every possible way.

he often wondered in the wee hours of the night and the morning if you knew how good it felt to be needed. to be desired. he wondered if you felt the same deep desire for him. he knows it was rather soon, too soon perhaps, that he liked you from the beginning. he was infatuated, but that soon grew to something longer-lasting, something more serious. he had truly never been so compatible with someone before. there were too many similarities and even with other people he knew and was compatible with, knew them for longer too, just never could compare to what he felt with you.

he had been alone so long he just couldn't fathom someone like this existed. someone who was... a universe inside of a human body. alone so long he didn't even know how to act right around someone else. he wasn't a great texter, or phone person in general. he preferred to be in person. he wanted the physical intimacy without the sex that you provided, the safe space, the ability to say nonsensical things and still be appreciated and laughed with and cared for and... loved.

so you visited him again after that night. it was about two weeks later, barely texted or called him this time. he wondered why. if it was something he did, if it was... the energy. if you saw the part of him he didn't want anyone to see.

the switch was slow, where normally it is quick. like a light switching off. but he had been holding onto the spotlight for so damn long... he could feel it switching but it was too late to tell you not to come over. you had already sent your eta and when he checked... you were right around the corner. he didn't want you to waste your trip, but he didn't have enough time to tell you to go back home. he barely had enough time to form the coherent thought before he took over. it was too late. he could only watch from the darkness surrounding him. he clawed, and screamed, and fought and tried his hardest to take the spotlight back but over that period of time, those years he held back, he had been weakened slowly but surely. he lost this time, but he had everything to gain through this. he just didn't know yet.

and when you arrived, he opened the door for you as he normally would and greeted you. he took your jacket, your shoes, your bag and he placed it on the racks by the door for you.

he was taller, you noticed, maybe a posture thing. he had a certain aura around him that was different than the aura you were used to. but otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary.

you wondered if he had done something different somewhere somehow. but you couldn't place your finger on it. the apartment was the same as usual. his hair was the same as usual. his eyes were a little darker, but everything else was the same. except for the mischievous smile as you turned your back to him to sit on his sofa.

it was a two seater, a slightly larger love-seat across from you and you expected him to sit there as he normally did. he said he always sat across from you because he wanted you to feel comfortable and because you were so pretty he wanted to see you at all times.

it was charming at first. but now, you wonder if there was something else... something behind the real reason he sat so far away.

he sat next to you. you wondered if he was alright, he was so quiet, so... calculative, it seemed.

"how are you tonight? you haven't texted or called as much as you usually do. you seeing someone else already?"

it was shocking hearing that. you wondered if he was alright but you were a bit too startled to voice it. you took a moment to look into his eyes. he seemed very serious about it despite his next comment.

"just kidding. i know you have a life outside of hanging out with me. you thirsty?"

you smiled and nodded, "no, i brought water."

he smirked, "good. if you change your mind, i've got plenty of drinks."

"thanks... how are you?"

"i'm good. even better now that you're here."

his smile was genuine this time, nothing wild about it. it was beautiful as usual, somehow even sexier. like a grown man, not a random uni student with nice features. this had to be someone different entirely.

and as you sat and stared at him more while he filled you in further on his past couple weeks of not speaking to you often--which he greatly emphasized--you realized just how different he did look when you stared closely, observed, and heard some things. they weren't the usual comments, usual witty remarks and the occasional whimsy responses.

"yuji, are you sure you're alright?"

and the smile you watched grow from normal to really big to verging on deranged shook you to your core.

"not yuji."

the hand on your thigh grew tighter, threatening to break through the fabric of your stockings and tear through your skin. you weren't sure why or how it was possible, but the look he was giving you, the feeling of the pressure on your body --even in places untouched-- really turned you on. he looked positively fucked out...

"i... don't understand..."

"dissociative identity... you should know that, miss psych major. but perhaps you haven't been able to focus lately because you were so focused with this... idea of who we really are... not talking to us for weeks... being scarce... making our chest hurt... you should know better, princess. we don't take lightly to being ignored. under any circumstances."

your heart nearly beat out of your chest. you couldn't focus properly on anything for some reason. it was like he was putting you in a trance with his voice and touch alone. and it took you a moment to realize his hand slowly started running upward, pressing into your sensitive spots, never touching where you needed him most, just smooth, subtle back and forth very close and too far.

"oh."

a breathless response was all you could offer... and in turn, it was all he needed. he knew you wanted him even more after figuring this out. he knew you liked this "hurt little lamb with a side of wolf" idea of him. he knew exactly what you wanted, what you liked, and what you needed. he had plenty of time to learn you through the lenses of the child he shared a body with.

he just needed you pliant and willing, which you already were. he liked that, less effort for him to sway your mind.

because if princess treatment was what you wanted, he would serve it on a golden platter. he already knew you liked the other version of him enough, he knew you were ready for the switch even if you thought you weren't ready for the switch. but you would assimilate accordingly. right?

he would give you what you wanted and what you needed. he would pretend he needed saving so you could... heal him. he would be everything you needed him to be. and he would trap you with the baby he would help you raise. you were... breedable. he liked that a lot. he needed it.

his touches were needier, he grew closer, his lips whispering sweet promises of what was to come in your ear, kissing lightly up and down your neck, sucking on that sensitive little spot on your neck. pulled you closer so he could trail those kisses and bites down your shoulder.

he pulled that cute sweater off so he could see your beautiful body, he was gentle with a hint of aggression. he wanted you to feel comfortable yet desired fiercely. he needed to spear you. he needed to feel every part of you.

usually there was a condom readily available. but oh, so conveniently... "i ran out."

you were too turned on and turned out by him at this point to stop him. he was clean... and so were you... so there wasn't a problem. right?

he made quick work of your bra, licking your chest and making sure to leave those hickies you both loved so dearly. he made the sweetest love to your breasts. licking, sucking, kneading the other in one hand and switching between each nipple, each mound of flesh.

he loved your breathlessness, your soft moans, your fingers in his hair, the one rubbing up and down his arm to his back. the wet lips, the heavy breaths... and most of all those eyes... so fucked and barely touched... so sensitive...

he wanted to steal all of you from everyone you knew, everything you did daily, he wanted to have you all to himself every day in every kind of way.

he needed to see you from sun up to sun down.

he made quick work of your skirt and stockings, the pretty thong soaked in your nectar was a sight to behold. he took a mental screenshot, one he would recreate later... if you were willing.

he removed the thong, slowly being sucked between those beautiful lips with every growing second of your arousal. he made sure to pull from the center of the thing, pushing his finger between your lips purposely as he pulled the center back and tugged, leaving his finger soaked and your pussy wanting...

he lifted your legs as he pulled the thong down, but he liked the residue of your arousal nearby, so he left it wrapped around one thigh. entirely naked for him, open and ready and he barely touched you.

he wasn't sure if he wanted to eat you out, fuck you silly, or watch you do it all yourself and struggle to take all of him without his help...

he knew yuji liked doing all the work, pure princess treatment. but this time, he wanted to remove those privileges... punishment for his pretty princess this time...

which one?

#sukuna x reader x yuji #sukuna ryomen jjk #sukuna ryomen #yuji itadori jjk #yuji itadori #jjk smut #x reader #yuji x reader #sukuna x reader #dissociative identity disorder trope #sukuna and yuji are connected #but no sorcery hehe #i hope it takes well #content warning #reader's choice

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bigmeansweatydyke · 1 year ago

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google search how to stop being so autistic because i'm apparently ruining my friendships by acting like an asshole and having no idea and i'm already so fucking exhausted

#my post #vent #like i don't think people get it lol #how fucking exhausting it is to have a million programs open in my head every time i have a fucking conversation #how i leave every fucking conversation wondering if everyone thinks i'm a massive dick #and it turns out that wow i was right to think that! just when i think i'm doing better apparently no i'm not!#it feels like the rules change every second and i don't know how everyone can just fucking GET it #like i'm trying i'm really fucking trying and apparently i'm not trying hard enough even though i'm so fucking tired #saw someone discuss this #how she feels the constant processing and the feeling over never being able to catch up is why autistic people kill themselves #and honestly yeah i agree because how the fuck am i supposed to fucking live like this #i dunno i'm just. tired #being like this just makes me want to not speak to anyone #hell maybe people would prefer it that way #i don't blame them i just wish people would understand it's so goddamn fucking hard and i'm so tired all the time #idk i'm being a lil bitch right now and i don't know what to do i just needed to vomit this out #peace and love and back to our regularly scheduled programming

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atomskdluffy · 1 year ago

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Working from home tomorrow, then my birthday weekend begins! Gonna try to stream early tomorrow so I can drive up to CT that night, then it's to the Ren Faire on Saturday! No real plans for Sunday, fine by me. And I took Monday off from work as I refuse to work on my birthday! No plans other than that, but I'm open to making some!

#Online plans might be preferred tbh #Or something small #The looming threat of work the next day makes me want to make sure I don't overdo anything #Hell maybe I'll find a way to get people together for Jackbox games or something else that can be done on a video call #Wait shit were we considering D&D that day?#That might cover it honestly!#Would be a great time!

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krawdad · 4 months ago

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Hear me out what if they went back to tent dragon for fantasmic

#apparently their solution to the gigantic elaborate animatronic burning down #was to replace the dragon transformation with like. nothing kind of.#maleficent grows on the pedestal and instead of swapping out for the dragon focus sort of just stays on tall maleficent #which is like #reasonable i guess?#off the top of her head my wife suggested that they just just the water protection again and show an animated dragon #which like #i like that idea SO much more than what they actually did #the dragon is on the sign guys you got to deliver on the dragon #i actually like the more theatrical 'just show enough to suggest a dragon' and think that would be more fun generally #but that's maybe just preference #I'm not sure why I'm keeping up on this I'm not really interested in going #other than like i know people who have done that show and generally have an affinity toward that kind of theatrical performance #it's niche as hell but the people are so damn talented #and they put up with way more than they should have to ugh #i think the protection mapping in the newest version of the show was actually good support for the existing show instead of distracting #mostly i was curious how a production like that dealt with its climax burning down #it was the solution that required the least work they retimed some lighting cues and had an actor visible for a while longer #done and done #i guess #also they have not updated the costumes to accommodate for hd cameras with zoom #they look best from the intended like 100-200ft away

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snekdood · 6 months ago

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hope you're proud of the things you've normalized because you just cant accept you did anything wrong

#instead of being like 'yeah i was toxic and wrong for this' you'd rather try to find ANY excuse you can to justify the things you do #and believe and then you normalize acting that way to your followers who normalize it to their friends and then your popularity on tumblr #means even more people see your dipshit dumbass lack-of-critical-thought ass takes and absorb it too bc people on here are dumb #and see a popular post and think that means its correct #hope you're proud. hope it doesnt backfire on you. but we both know it will. all because you cant accept what you did.#all bc you'd prefer to be a compulsive liar bc you're too much of a coward to face yourself.#how long will you keep running away and burning everyone in your path to you realize you're holding the lighter?#hell- its not even just realizing you're holding the lighter- its also accepting you're being a shit person for burning people #instead of continuing to make excuses to do it.#but of course. that would require you actually feeling bad for your actions #yknow. instead of doing it in that narcissistic bojack sort of way.#which isnt actually feeling bad for how you hurt others- more feeling bad you were caught #idk. maybe you just dont have the capacity. wouldnt surprise me.

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scorpieuns · 4 months ago

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GIRLS NEED LOVE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: you can’t seem to listen when your best friend says her older brother is off limits.

word count: 3.2k

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (if you squint lmfao). swearing. alcohol. kissing. nipple play, fingering (f. receiving).

MINORS DNI!!

A/N: back again after my usual cycle of deleting and remaking accounts here (hopefully this is my last lol). edited and remade this just in case it sounds familiar!

The summer heat was relentless tonight, a thick, suffocating blanket that clung to your skin and refused to let go. You tossed and turned beneath the light sheets, frustration building with every huff of breath.

The air was humid, making it impossible to slumber. Despite having your eyes shut for what felt like an eternity, sleep remained elusive, teasing you from just beyond reach.

You’d like to think there were other reasons besides the warmth of the summer evening that had you feeling hot and bothered. The muffled hum of cicadas outside droned on, an irritating cacophony that seeped through the walls, mingling with the soft snores of your best friend beside you.

But, it wasn’t really the noise that kept you awake—it was the swirling thoughts in your mind, each one pulling you deeper into a mixtape of memories you wished would stay buried.

Your brain, ever the tormentor, delighted in replaying moments you’d rather forget. Moments that belonged in the past, locked away and never to be revisited.

You wanted to blame the events at Jake’s party on the alcohol—specifically that cursed, yet sinfully good, cherry vodka Jay made.

It was the vodka, after all, that led you to kiss your best friend’s brother in the first place.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. It was the alcohol…it had to be the alcohol.

It wasn’t the fact that you had a raging crush on him for months. If anything, it was his fault. Sunghoon was the one who escaped from the party to join you. Somehow letting aimless conversation fall into enamoured glances, droning about how pretty you looked that night.

He was the one who slid his hands around your waist and pulled you closer, lips ghosting over yours and pleading to kiss you.

Passionately. Feverishly. Hungrily.

Your eyes snapped open with a frustrated sigh, the darkness of the room doing little to calm the rapid thrum of your heart as you sat up. The memory of Thursday night played vividly in your mind, leaving your chest tight and your thoughts tangled.

Since that night, you hadn’t seen much of Sunghoon, his summer job at the beach keeping him occupied while you and Sooah roamed the town, searching for anything to distract yourselves from the blistering heat.

A part of you was relieved not to see him since Thursday night. You preferred the silence over the possibility of hearing him downplay what happened, blaming it on ‘party spirit’ or the alcohol.

With a sigh, you slipped out of bed, your feet softly padding across the carpeted floor as you made your way out of the room.

Maybe a midnight snack would help ease your restless mind, you thought, as you quietly descended the stairs, the faint glow from the living room spilled onto the wooden floor signalling that you weren’t the only one awake tonight.

But, preoccupied with the sole quest to sleep, you brush it aside, entering the dimly lit kitchen and making a beeline for the fridge.

When you open the fridge you close your eyes with a sigh, the feeling of the cold breeze hitting your skin making you feel a thousand times better.

“Can’t sleep?” Sunghoon’s voice tickling the shell of your ear startles you, slightly jumping with a stifled scream. “What the hell?!” You whisper yell, “don’t sneak up on people like that!” You chide, clutching your heart in an attempt to regain your composure.

Sunghoon’s smirk grows into a smile, seemingly humoured with scaring you shitless and you roll your eyes at him. It only takes a few seconds to notice how close he is to you, swallowing thickly as your eyes scanned his appearance.

Nothing but a pair of sweatpants and white socks…great, he was shirtless.

“I don’t think I will sleep anytime soon, thanks to you.” You grumbled in response to his question, awarding yourself for not sparing another glance at his naked upper half.

“Oh come on princess, it wasn’t that bad.” You roll your eyes again before returning to the fridge, trying not to mull over the nickname he had just given you.

You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze remain fixed on you, studying you intently, until he eventually turned his attention to the fridge. You felt as though he could feel the heat radiating from your skin as he moved closer— the gentle breaths escaping his lips and teasing the hairs on your neck, causing you to shiver.

You quickly emerge from the little world of the icy machine, settling with the first thing you see to avoid being with him in such closeness—which is a simple vanilla bean yoghurt.

The tension in the air feels painfully thick and awkward, and you silently mutter prayers in hopes that he leaves the minute he finds what he’s looking for— but he doesn't.

Sunghoon emerges with an energy drink, the crisp sound of the can opening cutting through the white noise. He effortlessly leans against the marble counter, taking a slow deliberate sip of the drink, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows. As he pulls the can away, he casually wipes his bottom lip with his thumb, gaze locking onto you again.

Your yoghurt suddenly looks really interesting, reading the indecipherable scientific words in the ingredient list and immersing yourself in the brand's origin story, all in an effort to avoid the intense presence of the guy in front of you.

“We should talk about Thursday night.” Your heart sinks in dread. Your face begins to burn and you nervously clear your throat, “talk about what?”

“You know what Y/N.” He says, stepping closer to you. Sunghoon settles the sweaty can onto the counter, surveilling your surroundings before he lowers his voice, “So you’re just gonna pretend like you don’t remember?”

You finally glance at the guy, whose brown eyes are already boring into your soul, searching for any sort of answer in your stoic expression. You swallow thickly as you revisit Thursday night’s events for the umpteenth time and it all still feels like a dream.

The way Sunghoon kissed you in a way that left you breathless, hands gripping your waist so tight as though you’d slip away any second.

You clearly remembered it as though it were yesterday, the tingling sensation of his fingertips on your skin, the scent of his cologne filling the air, the lustrous look in his eyes when he pulled away, only to have you lean in for more.

You indeed did kiss your best friend's brother.

“Sunghoon.” You sigh, "Can't we just put it behind us? We weren't in the right state of mind,"

Sunghoon shook his head with a frustrated sigh, leaving his spot beside you and positioning himself in front of you. His hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you and preventing your escape.

“Y/N, both of us know that isn’t true.” Sunghoon pauses and your breath gets caught in your throat when his hand meets your cheek, his cold touch sending delightful shivers down your spine.

"Are you honestly telling me that didn't hold any meaning for you?" His voice was low, almost tinged with frustration.

You finally look away, unable to keep the nerve-wracking eye contact but Sunghoon makes a sound of disapproval, his hand swiftly moving to your chin and turning you to meet his face again.

He emits a hum, eyebrows raised and anticipating a response, and your mouth opens, but you struggle to articulate any kind of excuse.

You hate just how much you dwindle under Sunghoon’s presence, hoping that he can’t hear the hammering of your heart, along with the nervous breaths that slip past your lips whenever he looks at you.

“Well it did for me.”

“I liked it.” He shrugs, leaning in, dimples denting his cheeks with a knowing smirk when he catches the way your body reacts.

“And I’d give anything to feel those lips again” He admits desperately, voice below a whisper. You can only let out a shaky breath as Sunghoon’s thumb toys with the plump flesh of your bottom lip, slowly inching closer to him and finally closing the gap between you two.

Kissing Sunghoon feels just like the first time, an electrifying sensation coursing through your body, with your heart pounding so loudly that it could reverberate off the kitchen walls. It's like a breath of fresh air, a mixture of exhilaration, longing and relief washing over you.

You sigh, hands finding his face as he kisses back, desperately leaning into the kiss as he matches your fervour, hands slipping to your waist and pulling you closer as if there were still some distance to bridge between you. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling his face closer as the passionate kisses gradually blend into a makeout session.

The sounds of kissing fill the room, the fridge’s hums doing nothing to drown the rather lewd sounds out. Sunghoon breaks away from you, his breathing uneven. His cheeks carry a faint blush, and his hair is a cute mess.

It takes everything in you not to gravitate back to the solace of his soft and pretty lips and you’re taken aback, nearly letting out a surprised yelp when his hands swiftly reach for the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up and placing you onto the chilly surface of the marble countertop.

You’re now at eye-level and without warning, he is back on your lips, hands finding themselves under the thin material of your tank top and the cold metal of his rings against your flaming skin make your arch your back reflexively.

He pulls away, teeth softly tugging your bottom lip, with a breathy groan before he moves your jawline, sloppy open mouthed kisses travelling down your neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin, softly whimpering and sighing as the sensation blurred any rational thought that was left in your mind.

His hand slipped past your sternum, over your flimsy tank top and under it, brushing over your hot skin and on landing your breast, giving the flesh a soft squeeze.

Sunghoon’s lips follow suit, lips gliding over your collarbone before lifting your shirt up and attaching his lips to your nipple without warning, soft moans filling the quiet room as his tongue swipes over the erect bud.

Your fingers weaved in his soft hair, tugging on it as he moved to the other, kissing, nipping and sucking, the feeling snowballing the ache between your legs.

He finally pulled away with a ‘pop’, glancing back at your clouded state, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re so, so fucking beautiful.” Sunghoon groans, gently grabbing your face, kissing you messily. His hands glide to your hips, lips moving sloppily and hungrily against yours.

His pulls you closer to his body, legs hooked around his waist and that’s when you feel it, something hard poking the inside of your inner thigh and when you pull yourself closer, it perfectly hits your aching cunt, a dizzying wave of pleasure coursing through you, your moans being swallowed by mouth— and you can tell you’re not the only one who feels this way when you hear Sunghoon’s lewd groans.

You can't help but subconsciously roll your hips against him, grabbing at his waist and looking for some kind of friction– chasing the same feeling of pleasure that you felt before. You shamelessly moan at the lovely feeling of his clothed dick hitting you in the right spot, only making you more impatient and needy.

Sunghoon’s low moans make your stomach flip, and you want to hear more of them but he stops—pulling away from your lips and gripping your waist so tightly you're sure it would leave a bruise.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll have to fuck you on the counter.” He warns, but you can’t take it seriously, not when his voice is so breathy and raspy.

“Then do it.” You whine, begging the man to throw you onto the counter like a rag doll and fuck you into oblivion.

But he only shakes his head, hands cupping your flushed cheeks, “I still want to make you feel good.” Sunghoon presses a soft kiss on your swollen lips.

His fingers tug the waistband of your shorts, and you lift yourself up as he swiftly removes them— the warmth of your skin meeting the contrasting marble. “As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans, try to be quiet, alright?” You nod quickly, impatient and desperate for him to just touch you already.

You suck in your stomach with a quiet gasp when his fingers trail across the smooth skin of your thighs, “So soft…” He mumbled against your lips, hands sliding to the inside of your thighs, higher…higher, until his fingers find their way to your underwear toying with its lacy hem, before reaching the place where you need him most.

You inhale sharply, almost failing to hold back a moan when he finally touches your clothed clit, fingers rubbing over the wet fabric. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you lean into his touch, inaudibly yearning for more.

“Fuck Hoon.” You breathe out, hands covering your mouth, muffling your needy moans as he traced over the wet spot in circular motions, whimpering every time his thumb

“You’re so wet.” Sunghoon hisses, bottom lip between his teeth as he stares at you, eyes dark and pupils slightly blown.

“Shit, is this all for me?” Sunghoon's velvety whispers against your lips seem so far away as your eyes flutter shut, “Sunghoon, please.” You manage to whimper out, hands meeting his naked chest.

“Please what?” He hums, feigning obliviousness and you groan, feeling your pride slowly wither away. “I…I need you.” You whined. “So bad.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon coaxed and you nodded desperately, a smirk creeping onto his lips that you wished you could wipe off— if it wasn’t for the pent up sexual frustration you felt and its fate lying in his hands…literally.

He wasted no time meeting your pleas, dragging the fabric to the side as fingers slid against your slick glistening folds, hand flying to your mouth and head falling back at the newfound pleasure coursing through you.

Your other hand gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the skin of his back and earning a hiss from Sunghoon’s lips. His fingers easily slip into your hole, your arousal more than enough to let his fingers move with his ease— and you feel like you’re seeing stars.

“Fuck” A choked moan slips past your lips with a gasp, hand falling limp– overwhelmed with pleasure. “You like that baby?” Sunghoon coos, and you only hum in content, breaths coming in hitches as Sunghoon worked his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out at a satisfying and rhythmic pace.

Holding in your moans was getting harder and he could tell, watching your face contort in frustration and both pleasure, surprised your lips hadn’t started bleeding from biting too hard.

“...feels so good” You manage to let out, half lidded eyes meeting the man before you, practically enamoured by your presence. “I d-don’t think I can...fuck” You choked out. “Come on baby, I know you can take it.” Sunghoon’s words almost send you over the edge. Your head lulls forwards, mouth falling agape as strings of curses spill out of your lips.

As though he wanted to taunt you, you felt his thumb press onto your swollen clit, letting out a shocked and rather loud moan into the air. “Sunghoon-” You moaned, lips pursed together as you tried to compose yourself, but you were already falling apart.

The obscene noises of your drenched cunt and your choked moans and whimpers fill the kitchen, feeling your face grow warm. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and you hear Sunghoon chuckle, leaning back and lifting your head with fingers holding your face, “Come on baby, I wanna see your beautiful face when I make you come.”

Sunghoon could feel your legs beginning to tremble, as your walls fluttered around his fingers, chest heaving and soft moans becoming just a pitch higher.

His fingers quicken its pace, curving at an angle that seems to send you over the moon, failing to hold back your moans as he moves faster.

Afraid of another slip up, Sunghoon lips meet yours, swallowing your broken moans that can’t be helped as you near your high. An aching intense feeling begins to brew at the pit of your abdomen, driving your nails down the skin of his chest undoubtedly leaving a mark.

You cry his name out, followed by a mutter of profanities as you finally come around his fingers. “So beautiful.” He whispers, hand meeting your face as his thumb brushes the tears coating your lashes. He presses a gentle kiss on your parted lips— still a bit lightheaded to return it, slowly coming down from your high.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally slip out, a broken mewl leaving your lips at the lost feeling. He takes the liberty of cleaning his fingers with his tongue, heat rushing to your face as hums at the taste of you.

“What?” Sunghoon’s shrugs, “You taste good.” He smirks, hands finding the mess of your hair and pulling you into his lips, the kiss softer and more saccharine than the ones before.

You can still feel something poking your leg and your eyes flicker down to Sunghoon’s sweatpants, but before you can say anything, you hear the sound of a door click open upstairs and you and Sunghoon both exchange a look of alarm and horror.

The sound of Sooah’s voice sends you two in a frenzy, Sunghoon helping you slide off the counter as you pull down your shirt and scramble for your shorts.

“Y/N?” She calls out, feet pattering against the wooden stairs, as she descends to the first floor.

You both grab your long forgotten midnight snacks, settling yourself on a chair across from Sunghoon while he stands behind the counter…rightfully so.

When Sooah enters the kitchen, she thankfully doesn’t speculate anything, you two are both glued to your phones, scrolling on some sort of social media platform.

“Sooah, hey!”

“Hey…I was wondering where you went.” She smiled at you before her eyes flickered to her brother, exchanging their usual sibling formalities by grimacing at each other.

“I just came down for a snack, that's all.” You smiled, trying to conceal the mild shakiness of your voice.

Instead she moves closer to you, hands brushing your stray hairs into place, “Okay, well…I’ll see you upstairs.” And with that she leaves the kitchen.

Both of you let out sighs of relief, glancing at one another. Your face feels hot again, and you rise to your feet, a slight tremble in your thighs.

“I should…probably head back too.” You sigh, nodding your head upstairs.

“Oh! Yeah, right.”

The ceiling light highlights the rosy hue flushed on Sunghoon’s cheeks, his messy hair and plump lips, flashing you one of his pretty smiles, “I’ll see you later princess.”

As you leave the kitchen, Sunghoon fights the urge to pull you in for just one more kiss. His eyes linger until you disappear from view, and with a soft sigh, he runs his hands through his dark hair.

Now how was he going to fix his hard-on ?

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #best friends brother #kpop smut #smut

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sanguinesmi1e · 29 days ago

Text

A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 (you're here) Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Wayne Enterprises didn’t really need a small business specializing in “ecto-weapons” invented by self-purported ghost hunters, but S.T.A.R. Labs tipped Lucius Fox off that Lex Luthor was trying to buy an obscure little company in Illinois, and thwarting Luthor was always worthwhile. Now Tim just had to figure out what to do with all the equipment and the concerningly large arsenal of guns and things that looked like normal household items but seemed to have other, horrific purposes. He would have laughed at the way they slapped “Fenton” in front of every invention name (do ghost hunters really need a Fenton thermos? Won’t a normal thermos keep their coffee hot just as well? Are ghosts like trout, to be caught with a Fenton Ghost Fisher which just looks like a normal fishing rod but glow-in-the-dark. And what the fuck even is a Fenton Peeler!?), but he thought with some chagrin about the batarangs, batmobile, and everything else that had “bat” as a prefix in the batcave.

However, of all the things Tim hadn’t expected to find when he flew out to do an inventory of assets after they bought the business sight-unseen, a portal generating a Lazarus Pit in gaseous form was probably at the top of his list. He didn’t even know that Lazarus water could change states from a liquid to a gas like that. Maybe there actually was something to the whole ghost thing. He supposed that it made sense for ghosts to exist, after all Deadman was part of Justice League Dark. Speaking of. . . he should see if Bruce could call in someone from JLD to assess things. He was feeling decidedly out of his depth.

John Constantine did not like to consult for mega corporations like Wayne Enterprises, but Batman had specifically requested he go check something out and he figured, where's the harm?

There.

There’s the harm.

It turned out the “thing” he’d been called in to look at is a machine that can tear open a stable portal into the Infinite Realms. That is not something that should be possible. That is not something technology should be capable of achieving. That is definitely not something that should exist. Bloody hell, what had the Bats roped him into!?

This really should have been Zatana’s job. Or Deadman’s. Hell, Raven or Secret would be preferable. Because John would prefer not to be dealing with this. In fact, he would prefer to be back in literal Hell than deal with the crazy shit in the Infinite Realms. Could John handle demons, archangels, and even gods? Yeah. He can bind or exorcize most supernatural threats. Does that mean he relishes the idea of going toe to toe with heavy hitters from the Infinite Realms? Absolutely not.

Some beings who lived there were just little blob ghosts made from ectoplasm and emotion. Some were the restless undead who could not or would not cross over to their afterlives. And some were the embodiments of concepts like nature, destructive weather, and dreams. He wasn’t sure where Death fit into the Realms, whether she ruled or visited, or if it was actually just an extension of her, but he didn’t really want to find out. There were many things John could defeat. Death wasn’t one of them. And now he was looking at a portal into a realm where the living were not meant to be.

Danny hadn’t returned to Fenton Works since graduating high school. It turned out that he was less anxious when he was not living with people who fantasized about “tearing him apart molecule by molecule” and thought that discussing their plans to dissect him (although he maintained that it would be a vivisection since he’s only half dead) made for fascinating dinner conversation. Who would have thought that his constant stress, anxiety, and insomnia were caused by environmental factors? He’d been unpacking things with a very nice therapist his sister helped him find, and seen great improvements in his mental health. It really helped that she was dead too, and unlike Spectra she didn’t feed off the misery of her patients.

Danny hadn’t intended to ever return to Fenton Works, but when Jazz told him that Jack and Maddie sold their life's work to Wayne Enterprises and a multibillionaire playboy was about to have unfettered access to the Ghost Zone, he was. . . concerned. To say the least. And that was why he was in the middle of doing some light sabotage when Tim Drake-Wayne and a guy in a trenchcoat who reeked of cigarette smoke entered the basement lab. It’s why he was hiding under the Specter Speeder removing the ecto-engine, and there to overhear the conversation that followed.

“So, am I right in thinking that’s a Lazarus Pit?” Tim asked Constantine.

The older man stared at the portal, then at Tim, then at the portal for an uncomfortably long time. Then he pulled out a flask and drained half its contents before saying, “Yes and no. That is basically the same substance as the pits, but I think that this does something else entirely. It seems like this machine basically functions as a summoning circle, but instead of pulling one entity from one side to the other, this is just an open doorway that is perpetually pulling in anything or anyone who gets within its sphere of influence.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good thing, John.”

“It’s really not,”

“So what does that mean, is it like a blown hatch in space causing rapid depressurization?” Tim felt a little ill at the thought. “What is it even pulling into our world?”

“No, no. Nothing so dramatic as that. It’s more like, hm, so the way summoning circles work is they invite or compel a specific entity to manifest, by basically making a one-way magical portal for them. This portal is kinda like an invitational summoning, which entices, but doesn’t force anyone to enter. Usually a summoning will have a purpose though, and the being you summon will be offered a deal. If this is doing what I think it is and pulling citizens of the Infinite Realms through and leaving them on this side without a contract or direction, they’re probably getting pretty frustrated and causing havoc. It’s like offering someone a job in another country so they have to get a visa and uproot everything, only to get off the plane and find an empty office, no housing, and no paycheck.” John lit up a cigarette and took a drag.

Tim wrinkled his nose, but knew from long experience that it wasn’t worth it to argue about American tobacco restrictions in the workplace with Constantine, especially while the man was doing him a favor. Also, the man looked like he really needed either a cigarette or another drink, and he’d prefer second hand smoke to a drunk sorcerer. “So then why hasn’t this town been overrun by these beings from the Infinite Realms?”

“Good question kid, but what I really want to know is how is this portal staying open? Really, how was it opened in the first place is the most pressing issue.” John mused.

Tim had already located the blueprints for the portal while waiting for Constantine, but either the Fentons had intentionally falsified the documents to seem plausible just long enough to make off with the money, or he just didn’t understand enough of the interaction between physics and the occult to comprehend how the portal could possibly function.

He flipped back through the blueprints while the blond man sat cross legged in front of the swirling green portal and his low, distracted mutterings took on the cadence of a chant. The curl of smoke from his lit cigarette unfurled into some kind of spell array, and began to glow. Huh, maybe Tim shouldn't be too quick to judge him for tobacco misuse. Tim triple checked the flat file for any more information about the portal, and came up empty handed.

John, meanwhile, kept chanting as the magical array grew and spread to encompass the entire entrance to the portal. At last he stopped speaking and stood up, stepping back to double check his work. “Alright, Drake. You might wanna close your eyes for this one. It’s gonna be bright,” he said, popping his cigarette back between his lips. Then he stepped forward and blew a mouthful of smoke on the center of the array. The smoke caught against the softly glowing lines, pushing them until they floated back and collided with the nebulous green swirls and, despite Tim closing his eyes, flashed so incandescently white he could see them through his eyelids.

“OW! Fuck!!” John clutched his face, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’m doubling my consulting fee,” he grumbled under his breath.

“You alright?” Tim asked, blinking spots out of his vision.

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec.” He too was blinking now. “That was not supposed to be so bright.”

“I’m assuming it worked though.”

“It had bloody well better ’ave worked.” The older man squinted at the slightly dimmer lines which still shone painfully bright against the green. “Oh. Yeah, that worked. Fuck. . .”

“What?” Tim looked on in alarm as Constantine pressed a hand over his mouth.

“Oh man. What wanker did you say created this portal?”

“Presumably Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton. Why?” He drew the last syllable out skeptically.

“Because, they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms.”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #timothy drake wayne #tim drake #tim drake wayne #red robin #john constantine #A Round Door Like a Porthole[comma] Lazarus Green #the whole thing is on Ao3 #but I figured I should post here too #because why not?#but I'm breaking it into a few posts #just to spread it out a little

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hello-eden · 4 months ago

Text

Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala.

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it.

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family.

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’.

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

“you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants.

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

“Danny,” She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes.

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone.

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

“How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her.

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago.

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

“you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid”

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names.

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake.

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling.

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

#reincarnated sam manson #reincarnated danny #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover #batman #batfam #batfamily #dcxdp #Danny is Damien #sam manson

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steddielations · 11 months ago

Text

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

#what if they’re both secretly famous and clueless about each other #this is called ‘Upstaged’#part two soon #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #baseball player steve harrington #famous steve harrington #meet cute #saved your life trope #famous eddie munson #rueswriting

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qqueenofhades · 4 months ago

Note

oh god is biden dropping out? i don't know what happens then

Jesus effing Christ.

Few thoughts:

The billionaire Democratic donors got their way, apparently. All I saw was that the big-dollar donors were secretly putting pressure on the rank-and-file Democratic elected officials (i.e. House and Senate) to denounce Biden or not get any more money, and other shameful backroom maneuvering to knife Biden. I will refrain (lol, no I won't) from speculating that billionaires of any political stripe feel threatened by Biden's increasingly progressive tax/wealth redistribution policies, and saw their chance after the bad debate performance to knife him. Because until further notice, I'm going to think that was the biggest factor.

I don't know if there's an actual health condition that made Biden agree it was the best time (in fucking July) to step down, but if this was an issue, there needed to be planning last year, at the earliest, to prepare for a new successor. I don't know what's going on. This is a clusterfuck on many, many levels.

However: it is true that this does change things and not necessarily only for the worse, as long as Harris is immediately confirmed as the new nominee and this stupid Democrats In Disarray nonsense, which is giving the media exactly what they want, is put to a fucking end. If Harris is also swept aside and the billionaire donors try to install their preferred "Centrist!!!" candidate (lol Manchin or some shit) with an equally antidemocratic closed-door Star Chamber convention, then yes, we're fucked. Because the Congressional Black Caucus and African American voters saw exactly what the rich white man billionaires were trying to do by torching Biden and then Harris, and they are not going to play ball with some Magical White Man replacement.

If Harris is immediately confirmed as the new nominee (and to the best of my knowledge Biden has endorsed her), then she has a chance of reinvigorating the race. There were a lot of Americans who did not want either Biden or Trump. I suspect they were fucking braindead, but so be it. Harris has apparently polled pretty and increasingly well in recent days (in some cases actually better than Biden) and again, there is no remotely small-d democratic alternative to her. The billionaire donors already trashed the duly elected (by the primary process) Democratic nominee. If they do the same to Harris, then yes. We will have Trump and there won't be any more democracy in this country on either side, because the Republican big-bucks donors will gleefully pick up where the Democratic big-bucks donors left off.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The message needs to be "Harris is Joe's successor, she is younger and already has four years of experience and is the only candidate." Anything else is a fucking gift from god to the Republicans, once more getting trashed after Trump's terrible RNC speech. Maybe she can then pick Whitmer or Shapiro (both popular and effective Democratic governors of swing states, MI and PA respectively) as a running mate, but the nominee has to be Kamala. There is no other fucking choice. This is already enough of a mess.

If that can happen, and the fucking donors can refrain from fucking it up, then... okay. It's not great, but it does change things. It makes the ticket younger. It makes it historic (first Black female president beating Trump would be amazing). It could reach people disenchanted with the current two-old-white-guys setup.

This is an incredible sacrifice on Biden's part and I only wish that I could believe he did it voluntarily, rather than being forced out by a small class of rich people worrying about his policies getting too progressive.

I wish him only the best and I recognize this decision was taken under extreme pressure. If we then lose to Trump, I hope everyone who forced Biden out burns in hell.

I was a diehard Biden supporter not because I loved the guy personally, but because he was the only choice for preserving democracy in America. The essential stakes of the election have not changed, even if the billionaires just knifed us in the fucking back, possibly to nobody's surprise, because R or D, they are not our friends.

Kamala is the only choice. I will now have to defend her as hard as I did for Biden. She needs to beat Trump. There is nothing else to it. If you think she can't, then you need to work at helping her do that. There is already enough calamity and doom. We do not have a choice. We cannot lose sight of what is at stake here.

Kamala Harris/Whitmer and/or Shapiro and/or Buttigieg 2024.

The end.

#rionsanura #ask #politics for ts #jesus fucking christ #fucking hell #we don't live in a democracy any more either way #but we can still prevent trump #we cannot forget that #we cannot do anything else #kamala harris 2024 #i guess this is how it goes now #fuck i'm going back to bed

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 5 months ago

Text

A Wolf in the Dragon's Den

Pairing: Aemond x Stark reader

Summary: The Greens have won The Dance of Dragons, and your family has offered your hand to Prince Aemond as a means of forgiveness for your part in the war. But what shall happen when a wolf meets a dragon in its den?

Warnings: SMUT, mdni 18+, p in v, kind of mean Aemond? but he gets better lol, Aegon being Aegon, use of pet names like Little Wolf or My Dragon, fingering, soft to rough sex, uhhh language for sure haha if I missed anything let me know y'all!! It's also not proof read so forgive any mistakes haha

AN: Well ... sorry this took me so long y'all! I guess my summer classes caught up to me a bit but that's ok cause after long last here it is!! A good old-fashioned Aemond x Stark reader fic. I hope you guys enjoy haha, I'm working on a request next, but let me know if there's anything else y'all wanna see! :)

King’s Landing was a hot, humid, fish-smelling shit hole. The warm temperatures were much too hot for your usual furs, heavy cloaks, and skirts. Even your horses were succumbing to the heat, panting more than usual, the poor things. You could have rode in the carriage, along with your mother and younger siblings. But you preferred horseback, the wind in your hair, and the breeze on your skin. Although, the air here was salty and thick.

Your father and brother, Cregan, rode beside you. “Hells, could it be any hotter,” your father murmured under his breath, sweat beading on his brow.

“Those vapid Targaryen’s couldn’t bear it any other way, something about the ‘dragon’s blood–”

“Careful brother, they could have your head for that–” You chuckled a bit, but you all knew there was truth to the statement. The Dance of Dragons had proved as much, the Greens' force and display of violence was wide and plentiful. “Rash and brash” as your father had put it once. Especially that of your betrothed, Prince Aemond One-eye Targaryen. Or “the one-eyed cunt” as many northerners took to calling him. The betrothal, much to your dismay, had been arranged by your father, in a weak attempt to repair your house's relationship with the monarch.

“Hmph, well if I had my way we wouldn’t even be here at all. Those ‘dragons’ wouldn’t survive a damn minute in the North. Their blood would freeze, and then maybe we’d all be rid of their problems.” Cregan said the word “dragons” with a mocking tone, a scoff in his voice.

“That’s enough, your sister is right boy, they would have your head for that. Or perhaps feed you to one of their dragon’s” And with that, your father put an end to that potentially treasonous conversation. Cregan however, had muttered something under his breath about “told you to stop calling me boy”.

Having had enough of the bickering, you tapped the sides of your horse, trotting ahead by several paces. Your dire wolf, Snowcap, had evidently decided to part temporarily from the group, to hunt or to shade herself you didn’t know. But you couldn’t blame her either way, the journey from the Winterfell to King’s Landing was a long one, and not a particularly comfortable one.

The gates to the Red Keep came into site ahead of you, the streets leading up to it peppered with Gold Cloaks and guards. The people of King’s Landing pay little mind to your small party, too busy with their buying and selling. You had chosen to travel light, there were no copious amounts of banners flying, or any regalia at all really. You would be surrounded by plenty of that kind of thing soon enough.

To say that your greeting was lackluster, would be an understatement. Ser Criston Cole stood beside the Dowager Queen Alicent atop the Red Keep’s stairs. Besides another dozen or so Gold Cloaks, that was what there was. Cregan scoffs in annoyance from beside you, he must have caught up to you somewhere along the way.

“He cannot even come to meet his bride-to-be, what a disrespect, pathetic,” You made a bit of a noise beside him, urging him to keep his mouth shut. You were in the dragon’s den now, who knows who could be listening in? Another glance around the unfamiliar faces does confirm your brother’s statement. Your betrothed was nowhere to be found. Even the training yard remained empty, and from what you’d heard, Prince Aemond could often be found there.

As you dismount your horse, Queen Alicent begins to make her way down the steps, towards you and the rest of your family. Your father and eldest brother move to stand to your left and right. Your mother and younger siblings finally join you, to your left. Your mother gives you a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder as she moves to stand beside your father. You curtsey as the Queen approaches, she takes your hand in hers. Her palms are soft and warm, gentleness radiates from her person.

“My Lady Stark, how nice it is to finally see you arrive. I hope the journey south wasn’t too unpleasant” She gives you a small smile, not as lovely as your mother’s, but kind nonetheless.

“It was alright, long, very long, but alright,” You say, matching her smile. Queen Alicent releases your hand and carries on to greet the rest of your family, Ser Criston following closely behind her. Still no sign of your betrothed, nor his elder brother, the King. Although you supposed he must be occupied with his duties on the Small Council. You know you will hear an earful from your brother later on the matter. Had Creagn been born a Lady, he would indeed circulate most of the gossip around Court.

— — — — —

The Red Keep was massive in comparison to your expectations of its size. The halls appear more like an intricate intertwining of mazes rather than passageways. Your footsteps echo and reverberate off of the stones. Tapestries depicting great moments in Targaryen history line the walls. Lit torches line the halls, the windows, and the arches looking out onto bustling the city below. Servants, guards, and other nobles wondered about, gossiping, rushing to and fro. Ladies, lords, and servants alike whispered to one another as you and your family walked by, being led by Ser Cristin and the Queen.

It was no secret that your brother had sent Northeners and Graybeards to fight in Rhaenyra’s name. “Fight like Northerners they will,” your brother had said once. And they did indeed, the bitter cold and long winters having hardened them into mighty soldiers and fighters. Barbarians, some called them. Your father had handed over the duties of Winterfell to Cregan as he grew older. Your father had hardly left the North in all his years of life, but he had become confused and temperamental in his older age. It had ultimately been Cregan’s choice to join the Blacks, a decision he is now trying to repair. Or it would be more accurate to say you were trying to repair. Since you were a wolf being offered up to the dragons for slaughter. Perhaps the only reason that the Greens hadn’t burned down Winterfell, and your family around with it, is because they know the importance of your family to Westeros. And if the North falls, we all fall, and no one knew the North better than the Starks.

As you continue on your walk through the winding halls of the Red Keep, you finally come to stand before a set of doors. Modest in comparison to some of the others you’ve passed by. Metal filigree winds its way up from the handles like vines, the rest of the door was rather lackluster. Ser Cristin steps forward, dutifully opening the doors for your party.

There in the middle of the small council room, stood your betrothed. After long last you finally laid eyes on your betrothed. Aemond stood proud and tall, his long silver hair pulled back into one thick braid, tied together at the bottom with a strip of black leather. His back was turned towards you, hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in what appeared to be his riding gear, perhaps he had just come back from a flight with Vhagar.

“Aemond, there you are. You missed the arrival of your betrothed,” Alicent chided her son, who could not be less interested in the conversation at hand.

“Mhm,” He hummed, “I was–” He paused thinking, “ –busy”. From beside you, you can hear Cregan scoff a bit. Your mother puts a warning hand against his back, he was never one for formalities. But then again, most Northerners weren’t. The Prince finally turned towards your party. The famous leather eye patch covering the sapphire in his socket. The faint pink lines of his scar peeked out on either end of the patch. He’s beautiful, you think, in a macabre sort of way, but beautiful nonetheless. He looked ethereal standing there, backlight from the evening sun shining through the windows.

His lavender eye rakes itself over your form, as your mother pushes you forward a bit, to better meet his gaze. He lets out another hum, of approval, or disapproval, you cannot tell. A cord of annoyance strikes through you, not having the wherewithal to be subjected to such petty scrutiny.

Alicent places a guiding hand on your waist, walking you forward, closer to the One-eyed Prince. You curtsey once you reach him, the lessons your mother taught you as a girl kicking in and taking over.

“I did not know you Northerners were capable of such manners,” Aemond scoffed as he said this as if he was telling a bad joke. Your teeth grind together, hands clenching into fists in your skirts. Behind you you can hear the scuffle of footsteps, and then a halt. Presumably, your brother acting out again, or perhaps your father this time. Typically, your family wouldn’t care much about appearances, but you were all treading on thin ice, and you knew it.

Rising back up to your full height, which annoyingly still made you have to look up at him, you say: “We are rather steeped in our traditions in the North my Prince. We value honor decency, and the truth of one's word,” You glare at him through your lashes as you say this last bit. If it were not for the threat upon your entire house and bannermen then you would not be here, wolves were not creatures made to bow, even in the face of a dragon.

Surprisingly, Aemond lets out a hardy laugh. You chance a glance over at his mother, she looks to be just as stunned as the rest of you. Silence befalls the room.

“Smart mouth you have, huh, my Lady Stark?” He chuckles some more, then leans closer, intending his next words to only be for you. “Watch your tongue in my court, or I shall have it served to you on a platter at our wedding feast,” and with that, he straightens, and walks away. Yelling something over his shoulder about the training yard, and Ser Cole come with.

“I–” Alicent begins to say, but you cut her off, rather impolitely, “ It’s quite alright Your Grace,” You offer her a smile. You liked Alicent, the poor woman had been through enough as it is, and the arrogance of her son wasn’t any help. “I am just pleased to finally have arrived here at court, and to settle in at my new home,” It was most certainly a half-truth, but there was no need to make tensions rise any higher.

— — — — —

The following next few days were spent quite the same. Your little party with the guidance of Alicent took tours of the Red Keep as well as its many gardens and docks. One afternoon Alicent and Queen Helaena accompanied your mother and yourself down to one of the traveling markets of King’s Landing. It was rather grand, merchants coming from all across Westeros to sell their wares. Helaena had shown you a favorite merchant of hers, a man who made intricate gold and silver jewelry in the shapes of little bugs and small creatures. You had purchased a ring depicting the head of a dire wolf.

Aemond had remained illusive, he only graced everyone with his presence at meals. Choosing to sit far away from you, his brother, the King, talking about who knows what was next to him, but all the while his lavender eye remained fixed on you. It made you squirm a bit, being under his heavy gaze. Overthinking how you raised your fork to your lips, or where you held your cup of wine, on the stem or the rim as you’d always done.

With your wedding on the morrow, your nerves became more frayed than usual. Your mind is plagued with silly thoughts like: Will he think I’m pretty? Will he learn to love me? But as soon as those thoughts enter they are replaced with others such as: Why should I care? He’s been nothing but unpleasant and rude. But the younger, little girl in you still hopes to have a fruitful marriage, one filled with respect and love. Much like that of your mother and father’s. Although you know now that that is an anomaly in this world.

Your night is filled with restless sleep. Your body follows a pattern of waking for an hour and then sleeping for another. The heat of King’s Landing did not aid in this, the covers bunched down by your feet as you tossed and turned. Shortly after the sun had risen, maids had burst into your room, wedding gown in hand. You spent the next couple of hours being dotted upon like the princess you were about to become.

It wasn’t a large service by any means, not that you minded. Something smaller and more intimate was more to your liking. Your father walked you up the long aisle to meet your soon-to-be husband. Aemond stood at the altar in the sept, his house cloak in his hands to drape around your shoulders. The closer you got to him the more you could see his eye attempt to devour your appearance. Surprisingly, he gently held your small hands in his. His fingers and palms were calloused from many hours of training with a sword, and flights upon Vhagar. He was a handsome man you thought, too bad his arrogance made him ugly. Perhaps a bit naively you thought, I can change that. But maybe it was just wishful thinking. Your mind already trying to fix something potentially broken.

Aemond’s lips touched yours, forever sealing your vows to one another. Unlike his hands, they were smooth and soft, and uncharacteristically gentle. He was a good kisser you think, but then again the only other boy you’d kissed was a farm hand back at Winterfell when you were much younger.

Aemond thought you were beautiful, the moment he laid eyes upon his Little Wolf he thought perhaps this union will not be one of suffering and strife. At least she will be pretty to fuck. As his lips touched yours in the sept in front of the Gods, he tasted honey and black tea. You smell like vanilla, spices, and what Aemond assumed fire to smell like. His hand came to fist in your hair, possessively anchoring you to him.

When you part you suck in a breath of air, cheeks red. Such a sultry kiss in front of your family and the Gods caused a rush of embarrassment to course through you. Aemond however, gave you a wicked smirk in response to the color in your cheeks. Still clutching your hand tightly in his, he guides his new bride down and out of the sept, to return to the Red Keep for the evening's festivities.

— — — — —

The great hall was filled with the aroma of cooked meats, potatoes, wine, and the heavy laughter of your party guests. Your mother and father sat with you and your new family at the head table, looking down slightly upon the rest of the partygoers. Where the ceremony may have been smaller, the feast after it was not. Several more houses and bannermen of your brother’s came to celebrate the historic union. Boltons, Lannisters, Freys, Greyjoys, Hightowers, and the like filled the hall. You chose to remain seated beside your new husband, the ever-dutiful wife. You knew and had seen many times how rowdy Northmen could become at such a venue. You preferred to keep your distance, although it was not unusual to find you dancing with your younger siblings back home at Winterfell.

By the looks of it, your brother had loosened up a bit, a tanker of ale clutched in one hand.

The king had joined him and the others closer in age for what looked to be some kind of drinking game. Meanwhile, Aemond’s hand absent-mindedly made its home on your thigh, stroking up and down. The gesture was a stark contrast to his previous words and actions.

“You have barely eaten wife,” He noted as he glanced at you, “You must be well full and ready for what I have planned for you.” The same small smirk crosses his lips once again. Leaving you with a funny feeling in your stomach. But you can’t help the small wave of heat that strikes your core. Your mother once told you that men can become rather possessive of their women, and it can be quite cumbersome most of the time. Restricting one's freedom, constantly wanting you in their presence, she had said to expect this with someone like Aemond. But she mentioned that sometimes, in the confines of your marital chambers, it can be very — riveting to lay with such a man. It wasn’t until now that you began to understand what she had meant.

“I am afraid I have no appetite, my lord husband. My nerves do not allow me to eat it seems,” Aemond’s gaze darkened at the use of the word “husband”. Prince Aemond was not a man who did anything halfway, if he were to do anything, it was to be done fully without exception. A wave of dark possession seeps into his gut. He had already claimed a dragon but now he wishes to claim a wolf too.

From across the hall, his thoughts are abruptly interrupted by his brother's drunken yelling.

“ – the bedding ceremony! Come now little brother it is time for the bedding ceremony,” Aemond’s fists clenched, the hand on your skirts bunching in the fabric. “Will you fuck her like a hound brother? Woof Woof hahaha,” The hall had fallen eerily silent. Aemond’s chair clatters to the ground from the force of his standing. From beside Aegon, you see your brother place his cup of ale on the table, hand reaching for his sword. Your father is already a step ahead of him, hand on the hilt of his dagger. Your mother goes to stand in front of your younger siblings, shielding them. If you had no appetite before you certainly don’t have one now, your hands had gone cold and clammy, your head feeling light at the insults thrown your way. From beside you, Alicent stands, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“That is enough Aegon,” She begins to say.

“Oh come now Mother it was only a jest. Can I not be proud of my little brother?” Alicent opens her mouth to respond but Aemond beats her to it.

“You can take your ‘jests’ down to your whores on the Steer of Silk but you will not speak in such a way in front of my wife, let alone her family.” His voice is dangerously calm, ready to snap, and bubble over into pure rage at any given moment.

“Always so uptight little brother, as if someone has shoved a stick up your ass–” It is your turn to stand now, the feet of your chair scrapping the stone floor beneath you.

“I am quite tired, husband will you escort me back to our chambers?” You look at Aemond, a stern, silent plea evident on your features.

“Certainly wife,” He responds with the same tantalizing calmness. Offering you his hand, which you take, grasping on tighter than perhaps necessary, you both make your way out of the great hall. Leaving the mess that is Aegon behind for someone else to clean up. It was your wedding day after all and you needn’t worry yourself with such matters.

The walk to your marital chambers is quiet and tense. Your hand still firmly grasping Aemond’s, although he now squeezes yours back. The heels of your shoes echo off of the palace walls in an attempt to keep up with Aemond’s long strides. After an eternity of uncertainty at what was to come next, you reach Aemond’s, and now your, chambers. The room is large and furnished quite cozily. A large four-poster bed makes its home in the center back wall of the room. A table of what looks like chess pieces and a map sits by the open windows.

Aemond however reaches for the pitcher of wine on another small side table, pouring a cup for himself and downing it in one go. He pours a second, and a third for you. He offers it to you, you shake your head, afraid you cannot stomach the drink after what had just happened.

“I am sorry–” You break the silence. Aemond raises a hand to silence you.

“It is I who should apologize. My brother is a foul and evil creature who feeds off of the discomfort of others. But never had he dared to do so so boldly before,” He pauses, taking a sip of wine. “I have been absent since you arrived at the Keep and I believe I owe you an explanation,”

You cross your arms over your chest, the air coming in from the harbor seeming chilly now. “Yes I do believe you do,” you say.

Aemond quirks an eyebrow at your sass, a small smile spreading across his lips. “They told me women of the North have sharp tongues and poor manners,” You scoff, his smile widens, “but I must say I’m rather enjoying that thus far.” He moves toward you, one hand still holding his cup of wine, the other reaching up to cup your chin, turning your face to meet his eye.

“I must admit that when I learned that your treacherous brother’s offered your hand to me I was quite – unnerved. I had no desire to marry, let alone marry a traitor,” A cord of anger courses through you, and Aemond notices this. He sets his cup down on the table next to you, the one with the chess pieces. Your eyes follow the movement, better taking in the contents of the table, a war game perhaps, you think.

“I didn’t want to be chained to a dull, meek little pup for the rest of my life,” His now free hand comes to rest on your hip, and his thumb and forefinger move from your chin, to trace the shape of your lips, then your jaw, and down the column of your neck. “But I must say, that you have certainly exceeded my expectations. I shall enjoy breeding you,” His alkaline nose moves to smell your hair, and you inhale a sharp gasp at the vulgarity of his words. You feel him smile into your neck as he continues his ministrations, placing the whisper of a kiss here and there.

“I do not understand you. You show me kindness, even apologizing for the acts of your brother, but then you insult me and my heritage. What is it that you want from me, Prince Aemond Targaryen?” You question him, hoping your voice comes out as steady as you command it. Aemond pulls back laughing, both hands now finding purchase on your hips, he begins to guide you backward towards the bed. The backs of your knees hit the wooden frame.

“Perhaps I wish to see how far I can push you Little Wolf. I enjoy your banter and wish to hear more of it. It pleases me that I’ve been matched to a woman who is not afraid to speak to me in such a way. People so quickly cower and whisper when I am near, it is refreshing to be met head-on.” His blunt statement surprises you, you had not expected such a confession from the Prince.

“Perhaps–” You pause, choosing your next words carefully, “ – perhaps then we can learn to love one another in this marriage.” You almost whisper the last bit, uncertainty in your voice.

“Yes, I think perhaps we can,” Aemond whispers back to you, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. The tension in the air is palpable, maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move. To see how far he could push you as he had said a moment ago. Deciding to test this hypothesis you stand on your tiptoes, slotting your lips against his, just as you did in the sept. A hungry growl leaves Aemond’s throat using his grip on your waist to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you back with ferocity.

A hand grapes your throat, guiding you down towards the bed, your back hitting the feather mattress. You gasp against Aemond’s lips, swallowing the sound, he continues his assault. His hand against your throat tightened, although not unpleasantly, heat rushing to your core. His lips begin to retrace their path down your jaw and the column of your neck, biting and sucking red marks in their wake.

“Aemond– someone will see–” He parts from you only for a second, looking into your eyes.

“Let them, after all, isn’t that what my imputant brother wanted proof of our coupling? Perhaps it will give him something to pleasure himself to–” The thought makes Aemond’s cock harden impossibly more in his trousers. The fact that he could pleasure his wife to a level that his brother could only imagine, was nearly enough to drive him over the edge.

“Husband that is not reason enough to leave –” You're interrupted by a particularly sharp bite to the collarbone. A moan of pain and pleasure escapes past your lips, spurring your new husband onwards. With a sharp tug, Aemond pulls the bodice of your dress down, exposing your chest to him. He murmurs a simple “beautiful” under his breath before latching onto one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling at the flesh. Your back arches slightly in response, desperate to bring yourself closer to his touch.

As he continues his ministrations he begins to unlace the remainders of your gown, shimmying them down your body, to pool at his feet. You feel his calloused hands roam up and down your body. Sketching your shape into his memory. His fingers knead the flesh of your breasts, your thighs, your ass. Finally, he swipes his fingers between your folds, you emit a soft whine at the contact.

He raises an eyebrow, “I’ve barely even touched you yet Little Wolf, and you're already soaking my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock–” He trails off, mesmerized as he begins to pump two fingers in and out of your core. Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet at his words. Your hands find purchase in the sheets of your new bed.

“Oh– oh Aemond –” You whisper in between breaths.

“Say it again, say my name again,” It’s almost a plea, begging to hear it again.

“Husband– Aemond– My Dragon –” Aemond harshly withdraws his fingers from you. You nearly scream at the loss of the delicious contact. Discarding the remainder of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the side, Aemond grabs you by the ankles pulling you down towards the end of the bed where he stands. You catch site of his cock as he gives it a few tugs in preparation. The tip angry and red, glazed in his arousal for you. Your eyes widen a bit, your mother never prepared you for what might happen should your lord husband be too – big.

Aemond sees your moment of concern, he positions himself over you, cock aligned at your entrance. His hand carresses your cheek, as he says “I shall be gentle, if you ask me to.Give you time to adjust –”

“No,” Your answer surprises the both of you. “I want you, I am not some small flower, I can take what you give me. I want whatever you shall give me Husband.” You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose, as if to reassure him that what you say is true.

“Seven fucking Hells, you are something did you know that?” He rests his forehead agaisnt yours, as he ever so slowly begins to sheath himself inside of you.

You let out a small giggle, whispering back “I know–”

Aemond bottoms out inside of you, his cock fully enclosed by the walls of your cunt. He could die like this, he thinks. Cock sheathed in the cunt of his gorgeous Little Wolf. Your walls squeeze him perfectly, he needs to take a moment to catch his breath. He had fucked women before, whores in the Street of Silk. His brother having dragged him there once, and to seek some kind of perverted comfort there during The Dance. But none of them compared to this moment, none of them –

“Husband, Gods move please,” Aemond is brought out of his thoughts by your pleas, you voice hoarse with want and need.

“With pleasure Little Wolf.” He begins to thrust, moving his hips at a slow and steady pace. It’s for his own sake as much as it is yours. He’s afraid that should he move to fast he won’t be able to carry on for very long. Beneath him your hands clutch the sheets of his bed, your cheeks are flushed the most lovely red, your hair played out in a halo around you on the pillow. If he could burn the image into his mind forever, then he certainly would.

Aemond’s cock stretches you out perfectly, boardering on pain and pleasure, but only for the first moments. His thrusts are steady and calculated, but never the less delicious. The movement causes friction on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to your core. It’s lovely, you think, but you want more. Moving from their place in the sheets, your hands settle on his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Aemond– more,” His lilac eye flits up to your face, asking for silent reassurance that that is indeed what you want. “For Gods sake Husband, move faster please I–” Not needing to be told twice, Aemond picks up speed. Where his thrusts were slow and sensual, now they are fast and hard. He fucks you like a man starved, as if he was told this is the last woman he will ever lay with. Which in his case, was true, since you were married after all.

Your tits bounce at the force of his movement, your hands that were previously on his hips, begin to rake down his back. Your legs come up to circle his waist, drawing him impossibly closer.

“You like this then, huh, Little Wolf. Treated like my own personal whore, to fuck how I please?” The sounds that fill the room are egregious, skin against skin, moans, whimpers, and screams.

“Louder Little Wolf, howl for me, let the whole Keep hear how I pleasure you so,” Perhaps that same small part of him wanted his brother to hear. As if Aemond had something to prove to him, that he made a better husband, a better lover than Aegon ever will.

“Aemond, Aemond, oh Aemond–” You chant his name like a mantra. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, you gasp eyes widening at the feeling.

“Seems I’ve found where you feel pleasure best. Is that right Little Wolf?”

“Yes, Gods Aemond, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna –” Hearing that was all the motivation he needed to pick up his pace even more. To fuck you even harder than before. He grips your hips pulling you closer to him at the end of the bed, from this angle he has full control over your body, and can fuck you as you so desire him to.

The force of his thrusts, and the friction against your clit cause you to see stars behind your eyes. With one last scream of his name, you cum around his cock. Your walls pulling him in, attempting to root him to you. Aemond however, does not let up, chasing afer his own release.

“Just a moment more, my sweet, perfect Little Wolf. I’m going to breed you, and watch you swell with my pups. Wouldn’t you love that huh?” Aemond continues to piston in and out of you, the feeling almost too much, but still just as lovely as before. Nonsensical moans leave your lips, and Aemond laughs at you babbling, although not rudely.

His hips begin to stutter as he nears his end, his heavy balls slapping against your cunt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” He mutters under his breath as you feel his seed coat your walls. The feeling warm, and full and lovely. Aemond remains seated inside of you as he rests his forehead once more to yours. You kiss his nose again, a new favorite spor perhaps. He offers you a small smile in return.

You both groan as he pulls out. Your cunt perfectly overstimulated and happy. Wordlessly Aemond leaves the bed, and begins to rummage around some drawers in one of the many pieces of furniture in the room. You worry for a brief moment that he will leave, and that he meant none of what he said. But as he brings a damp cloth between your thighs to clean you, your worries wash away. He tosses the rag aside, to be dealt with on the morrow. For now, all he wanted was to lay with his wife in his arms as he drifts off to sleep.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you move to covers to lie beneath them. Aemond pulls you to him, tucking the top of your head under his chin, he kisses your hair. You both think that perhaps this marriage will be fruitful, that over time you will learn to love one another. It seems as if you both are on a lovely start for that though as is.

“Good night ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved),” Aemond mutters into your hair.

“Sleep well, My Dragon,” you say in response. You both drift off into a peaceful sleep, held comfortably in each other's arms. No one knew what the morrow would bring, let alone a fortnight from now. But you both knew you would see it through together as equals, husband and wife, dragon and wolf.

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