#i come from a long line of addicts so it's in my blood to be chasing dat Feeling yk?

[scooplery]

extremely tempted to take a weed break and a caffeine break this spring. i wanna know what my baseline is i have a feeling that both are contributing heavily to my insane person anxiety levels

[gay-dorito-dust]

( ´∀`) I am possibly missing where it says your requests are open or not. I apologize if it is.

If it interests you (your batfam posts bring me joy) how would the boys Jay, Dick, Damian (whoever else) would react to only being able to tell the truth for a day? Like they confess all the things they like about their crush, compliment their family, admit to disliking a dish Alfred made (GASP <(｀^´)> ).

Thank youuuuu~

Jason wore his heart on his sleeve, he lets anyone knows what’s on his mind with zero filter, so him being forced to be truthful was no different to how Jason actually was on a day to day basis.

So at first he doesn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until you asked him a question one day regarding your love life;

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to find anyone here Jay, I mean what do I have to do to find somebody.’

‘You don’t have to do anything because everyone else is the problem, not you.’ Jason found himself answering before his mind could find an appropriate response without crossing the boundary of your friendship. ‘They obviously don’t see perfection when they see it because they weren’t looking at you and I find that insulting because who wouldn’t look into your eyes and see forever within them?.’ He finishes and was quick to cover his mouth with his hand, worried that he might’ve said too much for you.

‘And do you see forever in my eyes jay birdie?’ You asked softly, leaning towards him.

Jason drops his hand from his mouth. ‘Hell yeah I do, amongst many other things because you’re worth every heartbreak I’ve ever had in the past because being with you would be my life’s greatest dream come true.’

The next time Jason spoke truthfully was when Dick came to visit and it was after a long, long night of patrol and sleep was at the forefront of his mind, causing it to fog as he let it slip on what he truly thought of Dick.

‘You’re my brother, we may not be related by blood but no one has stood in my corner and was so prepared to be in the wrong then you Richard, and for that I thank you. You really are the best of us.’

Needless to say when he found out that Dick had the whole thing recorded, he wanted to strangle the fucker and make his death look like an accident. Sibling things.

Now, Jason -much like any other- loved Alfred’s food and would never raise an issue over it as he’d pretty much eat anything with his bottomless stomach. So even if he didn’t like one of Alfred’s recipes more self then others, he would say it in the most politest way possible. He loved that kindhearted man too much to ever say anything in regards of the food he’s made him since he was a young lad.

Dick would find peoples expressions to him being honest and truthful funny, but at the same time would be somewhat relieved with this turn out, as he wouldn’t have to force himself to be truthful just to get people to stop asking whether he was alright or not.

He knew he wasn’t always open and honest with his innermost thoughts and feelings at the best and worst of times, knowing all too well of how that would cause lead to the occasional argument of two down the line for himself, but he was never really given the space to figure it out himself on his own time.

So when he found himself speaking the truth to just about anyone, it was as though his heart was exposed for all to see it beating and all. It was as though all of his innermost thoughts regarding everyone in his life was being broadcasted to anyone and everyone with ears and the ability to hear it.

‘You’re so good with Hayley you know.’ Dick blurted once when you were playing with Hayley, stoping as soon as you heard him say this, allowing for Hayley to snatch the toy from your limp hand and lie down elsewhere to amuse herself with the squeaks that the toy would make every time she bite down on it.

‘What?’ You asked.

‘I mean it, you’re really good with Hayley and you’ve been nothing but an amazing person with a pretty smile and addicting laugh.’ Dick adds as he held his head in his hands as he looked at you with a soft look upon his face. Dick wasn’t still that bothered that you knew how he felt, it was bound to come out sooner or later and would take it in stride, even if he didn’t have control over what had just came out of his mouth just now.

The next time Dick finds himself being truthful was when he visited Jason after a long night of patrol and in the midst of a silent period Dick then said;

‘You’re amazing Jason. Bruce doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he never did when it came to us Robins, using one of us as a frame of reference for everyone else isn’t fair but you are my friend, my brother and I am so proud of you. You are not a failure, you’re anything but one.’ Jason sat silent the entire time and after Dick had finished he made a noise from the back of his throat, a small smile gracing his face as he looked out over the streets of Gotham, reaching out to pat Dick on the shoulder and said. ‘Thanks man.’

Dick always cared deeply for Jason, seeing him as his little brother and would gladly stand in his corner no matter what, even if he was wrong because that was what older siblings did. Dick never shied away from how deeply he felt agonising pain when he though he had lost his little brother and confronted Bruce about the entire thing, enraged and grieving simultaneously. Now whenever he caught wind of what Jason was doing as red hood, he can’t help but smile knowing his brother was doing just fine, but would always make it known that he was just a phone call away.

Dick knew Alfred wasn’t going to bite his head off for saying that he didn’t like something but would instead ask how he could better it for his taste. So even if Dick did say anything about one of Alfred’s recipe, he knows Alfred would be more than understanding. However it was an unspoken rule amongst him and his siblings that they’d eat anything and everything Alfred made them without a single complaint unless it was necessary.

They all love that man too much to ever say anything negative about his cooking.

Damian would hate being forced to speak nothing but the truth.

He’d really hate it as being blunt and opinionated was how he always was and so being open and honest wasn’t his forte and it felt wrong in a sense due to it feeling as though he was put in a position of vulnerability.

He hates it even more when he finds himself confessing to all the things that he liked and or found remotely interesting about you whenever you were near, it felt as though someone was pupating him to say these things when deep down he knew they were how he genuinely felt but was too deep in denial to admit this to himself.

‘How do I look?’ You innocently asked.

‘Breathtaking like you always do so seamlessly.’ Damian replied without hesitation before looking up from his sketchbook once realisation hit him, only to see that you were already looking at him with wide eyes.

‘You mean that?’ You said, wanting to know whether or not you heard him properly.

‘Of course.’ Damian said and when he felt his mouth open, he tried to close it but it seemed as though his body had a mind of his own as he found himself continuing to speak. ‘On many occasions have I spent thinking you were naturally breathtaking and have thought so for many more on top of that to the point you are my one sole muse.’ He finished and it wasn’t long before you were planning your first date together.

Damian knew this wouldn’t be the first time he was going to be forced to speak the truth and the second time came in him actually complimenting Tim on his smarts and combat prowess, something that he’d rather drink pure poison before ever admitting out of pride.

‘Tt. Don’t sell yourself short Drake, you’re a competent Robin and an exceptional detective.’ He’d say when it was just him and Tim in the Batcave and immediately regrets it and makes him swear to secrecy, obviously this doesn’t last long after the period of speaking truthfully wears off and Damian goes back to being his blunt, straightforward, unapologetic self.

Damian loves Alfred’s cooking, but all of his cooking weren’t Damian’s favourite and while he wouldn’t hesitate to tell others how he felt, he didn’t feel the same when it came to Alfred’s cooking despite the man being nothing but kind and open minded.

So if he ever were to speak about his least favourite food Alfred had ever made and even when Alfred was more then accepting of his opinion, Damian would try to help Alfred however he could in return for his comments about his cooking. Alfred was probably one person he’d never want to hurt with his words.

[lxvebun]

heart shaped kisses RE edition

synopsis: how Leon kisses you/ different types of kisses

content: Re2r!Leon/ Re4r!Leon x gender neutral reader. Some fluff but mostly hurt/comfort. Little bit of blood. Mention of plagas leon and the outbreak. Around 500 words. He's deeply in love with you<3 english is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes!♡

D*rk content blogs do not interact! (*a)

Other heart shaped kisses fics (multi) leon m.list

resident evil 2 leon

Oh my, His kisses are as sugary sweet, and warm as he is. they're always excited and eager and a frequent daily occurrence. From the moment you open your eyes until you close them again in his arms, rest assured he will have pressed kisses to every area of skin available and comfortable for you. It never fails to make your heart beat a little faster and for your mind to blank out for a split second especially when his kisses trail down from your lips to the corner of your mouth, down to your jawline before he's pressing a feathery kiss on your neck right below your ear. He "Ruins" the moment by blowing raspberries into your skin♡ :)

His kisses were always consistent in feeling, passion, and delicateness, right up until September 30, 1998. And can you blame him? With telephone lines being cut and no way to reach you through the mess of car wrecks, fires, and infected, he wasn't even sure if you were still breathing. The utter relief and desperation he channeled into his kiss when he finally got you in his arms again was overwhelming, the blood and dirt staining his skin didn't even matter, you both just needed to breathe in eachother, caress the pulse points on your necks and feel each others heartbeat thump against your chests, just to make sure this wasn't some sick, infected fever dream, just to make sure both of you were here and alive

Re4 leon under the cut

Resident evil 4 leon

Now slightly older and slightly more worn down his kisses are still as warm and sweet as before but a lot more serious, a lot deeper even for casual kisses and he holds you so close you can almost feel his heart beat against yours through your ribcages. It's passionate and breathtaking but under all that when his lips touch yours you can sense a feeling of uncertainty laced into it. Worries and thought's he's usually good at surpressing making it's way to the surface. Is this going to be the last kiss you'll ever share? when he gets called away on a mission he can't decline, will you wait for him, or is the distance too much to handle? do you understand that his love for you is so strong, and runs so deep and never-ending, even if he turns into an abomination with poison running through his veins and a new sense of bloodlust coming from a sick infected mind he would still recognize you, he would still protect you until he's permanently put into the ground?

this Leon's kisses last a lot longer, he doesn't want the moment to end and he doesn't want to feel you pull away along with your warmth and sense of comfort, and perhaps by pulling you so close to him, he can make you linger just a bit longer on his skin. just long enough for the initial worries to subside just for a moment as his thoughts of horror fade away into images of you and the way the sunlight kisses your skin or how the stars reflect in your eyes, it's an addiction, you're addictive…..he's not just going to leave it at just one kiss that's for sure.

Buns notes: I feel like I forgot to edit something in this so if something is incredibly out of place lmk💀🩷

Thank you for reading, angel!<3

[calisources]

𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this memes are taken from different sources of literature, television and media about enemies to lovers trope and enemies and lovers trope with some angst thrown into the mix. Change pronouns, names and locations as you see fit.

Does it hurt? Loving someone who can’t love you back?

Break his crown, break his throne, rip his monarchy apart.

What are we doing?

You are capable of making my blood boil like no one else, and yet I feel a magnetic pull I cannot explain.

It’s not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand

Like whether you should kiss me or punch me.

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.

You make me feel things that shouldn’t exist. 

Whatever this is, we should stop. I have been. . .compromised.

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and maybe we crossed it a long time ago.

I never thought I could detest someone so much, until the day I realized I was falling in love with you.

We may fight like enemies, but deep down, we both know that our hearts beat for each other.

You infuriate me, challenge me, drive me crazy, but damn it, at the end of the day, I can’t resist you.

It’s that tension that makes this so irresistible.

You’re like an addiction I can’t break free from, even if I wanted to.

You’re the thorn in my side, the fire in my veins, and I can’t help but crave your presence in my life.

Loving you feels like a dangerous game.

You infuriate me, yet you’re the only one who truly understands me.

You scare me to my core.

There’s no denying the fire that burns between us.

If any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.

I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other.

Tell me you don’t feel this between us. Look at me and don’t look away while saying it.

You claim me your enemy and yet, let me crawl into your bed every night.

You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.

Do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you.

I did not asked for this. To be plagued by these feelings.

I tried to deny it for so long, but I don’t want to anymore.

Follow me around. Look at me as if you find me fascinating. Touch me, and say nice things to me. And then, you pull away as if you did nothing at all.

There’s no need for these games.

Well, you know that old saying, “Keep your friends close and make out with your enemies.

You read me wrong.  I wasn't trying to lead you on.

Is that all I am to you? A resource to be used in your scheme?

Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything more than you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time. But I just- I can't do it tonight, okay?

 You'll lay a man out for implying I'm a whore, but you keep calling me one to my face.

So, the only man that can have you is one who's already tried to kill you. That's logic.

It's like a little death. Several, in fact.

Oh Max, if you really hated Kyle you couldn't have slept with him.

So go on... kiss me... kill me... Do something.

I've often wondered what this moment would be like. Me... you tied up. 

Once this is over, we should really have angry sex.

Hate and love are not so very different things. Both are focused upon another. Both are intense. Both are passionate.

It just means you'd rather be with someone you hate... than be with me.

She's difficult and irritating, and she tries to hit me all the time.

We have a deal, what are you so afraid of?

Only I can hurt you this way. Only I can kiss you like this. 

You dragged me down and now I can’t quit you. 

This is the last time we do this.

Last night was also the last time. And yet, you keep coming back.

Better my mouth than my knife, right?

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, multiple orgasms, brief cockwarming, multiple positions, breeding undertones, talking through it, slightly possessive behavior.

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Part Seventeen of Ink & Needle

A/N (2): Thank you to everyone for your patience. With my health issues, I've been trying to write but sometimes it isn't possible. I know this chapter has been a long time coming.

You and Simon finally come together. Simon reveals a few hidden things about himself.

Chapter Sixteen // Chapter Eighteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Wraith.

That is what you’ve always called him. Even now, with Simon towering over you, he is no longer than lurking danger you sensed in Riot Room. He is still a mystery—still a sealed box with no apparent entry.

But you’re receiving pieces. Little by little you’re starting to build the image that is Simon. Ghost, as you once knew Simon, still lingers in the dark recess of your understanding of him. The picture is incomplete, but it is forming. The film is beginning to show its true nature in the dark room.

The wraith you knew—and the one you know now—are fusing.

Before you, Simon is all hunger. You are completely naked. Bare for him. Legs spread wide for his pleasure. And his gaze is locked to that place between your legs, the one that aches for him and longs to be filled. There is a possessiveness to his stare that heats your blood and sends your bones into vibration.

How are you to survive this man? And why did you run in the first place?

Even now, you witness his need, the starvation. Simon has been depriving himself of you, and you are fully aware of this. The other day when you were in his shower, when you gave him permission to fuck you, Simon resisted.

He was waiting, and now you’re here.

A banquet. A feast. Food for him to gorge on.

Simon’s hands rest on the insides of your thighs. It’s not a harsh touch, though the rest of him is all hard lines. There is no mask. You see Simon for who he is. Blonde hair. Dark eyes with pale eyelashes. A few scars on his face and the ones on his body covered in ink.

Simon is not hiding, and the knowledge of that is enough. It’s trust. And something more.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The compliment catches you off-guard. You’re so absorbed in admiring him that you forgot to listen.

“Thank you,” you murmur, heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. It’s such a silly thing to say in the moment, but it’s all you can muster.

The corner of Simon’s mouth quirks in amusement. His large hands stroke up and then down your thighs absently. The movement is soothing, and you feel your muscles relax beneath his touch. Simon gently squeezes, fingers lightly digging into your skin as he begins to descend to one knee. You watch from between your legs, momentarily paralyzed as he makes himself comfortable. You notice a slight wince, but it’s so brief you might not have caught it if you weren’t paying attention.

From this position, all you can see are Simon’s broad shoulders and thick chest, his strong neck with its blackout tattoo. His blonde hair is a bit messy like he’s been constantly running his fingers through it, but really you were the one grabbing him.

Simon blinks, the middle of his brow creasing slightly. “You still want this?”

He might sound steady but it’s all in the eyes. There is pain there—a hesitation bordering on trepidation. You ran before. Twice now. Perhaps he thinks you’ll slip away again.

“I want you,” is the answer you give, because it’s true. You do want Simon. You crave him like an addiction. A caffeine fix you never want to part with.

All the muscles in his shoulders relax. A calmness appears to settle over him, and though his face is mostly pensive, you notice the small smile that seeks the light. It’s such a tiny thing. A flash of happiness.

His chest heaves, and then his arms snake under and over your thighs, locking you in place. One hand splays wide over your lower belly while the other firmly grips your thigh. There is no escape from him, but you wouldn’t try.

Simon is who you want.

“And I want you,” he replies, voice almost a growl.

He adjusts his hold, pulling you closer to his mouth. Simon’s breath is hot against the inside of your thigh. From between your legs, Simon watches, his lips landing against your skin just shy of his fingers. It’s slow but purposeful, each kiss moving lower and lower to what is clenching—needing him to be inside.

Simon’s lip graze against your pussy, and everything tightens, anticipating the moment he makes contact. The other times Simon has eaten you out, he’s done so with stamina and enthusiasm. Right now, he begins tentatively, the tip of his tongue just grazing your sex.

It’s a tease of a touch. A flash of pleasure that quickly vanishes.

Simon repeats the movement, giving a bit more, sending you squirming in his hold.

“Simon,” you gasp as he lazily runs his tongue over you.

“Fucking love the way you taste,” he says, almost absently.

Your fingers find his biceps the second his tongue returns, stroking slowly. Simon is exploring as if he’s never ventured here before. As if he hasn’t eaten your pussy countless times already.

Your hips want to move. They want to seek out Simon’s mouth. To have the constant pleasure before it explodes into fragments. But you are unable to do much with your lower half. Simon has you locked in, and he’s taking his time.

Each stroke is agony, and yet so fucking satisfying. He gives a little more each time until his tongue flicks back and forth over your clit in a steady pace. The hand splayed on your lower abdomen descends, and you don’t really notice until a finger parts your pussy, sliding inside.

It’s a nice stretch, but insignificant. What you really desire is Simon’s cock. You’ve been craving him, but not how the two of you fucked in Riot Room’s basement green room. There was passion there, but that was between two strangers.

This is different. This is more, and that is all you desire. To be more with Simon.

Simon sucks your clit into his mouth, the tip of his tongue toying it in little circles. Your back arches, hips flexing, but there is nowhere to go. It only shoves you further into Simon’s hold. He growls—almost a warning, like he wants you to quit wiggling.

Your breath comes in short pants, breasts heaving with every inhale. But Simon doesn’t notice. He’s too preoccupied with eating your pussy. Every part of you is tightening, the coil building under pressure. Like floodgates preparing to open, you too are close to bursting.

Simon circles your clit with the tip of his tongue is just the way you need him too, and everything tenses. All the limbs and muscles in your body suddenly clamp, shaking. The exhalation is cut off—choked—before blooming into a depraved moan.

Tension releases, and then you’re truly writhing beneath him. Simon does not cease, his tongue and fingers moving in tandem, stroking so perfectly it’s sending you into overstimulation. You claw at his arms, gasping for breath, wanting to beg but unable to find the words. They keep escaping you, floating off into the air where you cannot catch them.

Your moans grow ever louder, the orgasm pounding through you until you feel it behind your eyes.

“Simon,” you cry, tears beginning to form in the corners. “Please—I can’t. No—no more. No—”

With that one word Simon withdraws, his mouth leaving your sex but not his fingers. Those remain inside you, pumping lazily. His lips and chin are glossy with your wetness, and his eyes are heavy-lidded.

Simon kisses the inside of your thigh. “You good, love? Or can I have a bit more?” He punctuates his questions with a slow, deep thrust of his fingers.

You whimper, nails biting into his skin. Simon leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh again. This time, there is teeth. He bites. Sucks. Soothes with a few kisses.

“Want me to fuck you?” The raspiness in his voice has your pussy squeezing his fingers. He smiles against your skin, as if that alone is an answer.

It is what you want. To be his. To know him as you know yourself. Riot Room was a discovery, but this is a binding. You are giving yourself to him, and he to you.

Releasing his bicep that you’ve been clinging to; you rest your hand against Simon’s cheek. He turns into the touch, eyelids closing briefly as he inhales. Your thumb brushes over his cheekbone as Simon’s lips graze your palm.

“Need to be inside you,” he mumbles, almost absently.

“Simon,” you murmur, voice a caress.

He sighs heavily as if your voice is a soft spring rain. Simon glances at you, those dark eyes all fire, and you see the resolve forming there. He is a pillar. An obelisk. A monument to be erected.

Slowly, he withdraws his two fingers from your pussy. Keeping them together, he opens his mouth and slides those sticky digits over his tongue, sucking them clean. Strong arms release their hold, and then Simon is standing tall, an imposing form before you.

He observes you a moment, the silence stretching under his intense stare. It’s like he’s seeing all of you at once and absorbing the information to commit to memory. Just as it feels too much, and your heartrate kicks up, Simon reaches out, grabbing you by the neck.

It is not a cruel touch. It is possessive. Using that leverage, Simon draws you up to a seated position. His lips find yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue.

Simon whispers your name and you reach out, your palm splaying wide over his tatted pectorals.

“First time is for me,” he says, voice breathy. Simon presses his forehead against yours. “Might be a bit rough.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. “You won’t hurt me.”

Simon hums low in his throat. “Not worried about that. I’d never hurt you.” He goes in for another kiss and this one completely steals your breath. “Second time is all for you. Promise.”

“Take what you need, Simon,” you murmur, running your fingernails gently over his skin.

He shivers, and then grabs your wrist, drawing it away from his chest. “On your hands and knees, love. That’s how I want you.”

Simon’s hands fall away as he shifts back. You hesitate for only a moment, the anticipation pooling in your belly. Slowly, you twist, planting yourself firmly on your hands and knees, presenting your backside to Simon.

You expect his hands to be on you immediately, for him to grab and devour. Instead, Simon’s fingers are whispers against the backs of your thighs. They explore upward, traveling over the curve of your ass to settle at your lower back. Lightly pressing, you submit to his silent instruction, arching your back and pushing your ass into the air. Tucking your legs together, Simon grasps your hips, guiding them up a bit higher.

One hand falls away while the other stays. Behind you, you hear the clink of his belt buckle, of leather brushing against denim, the sound of a zipper. You’re propped up only be your knees and forearms. Fingers digging into the bedding, you wait in wanton anticipation.

When Simon’s hands return, there is no gentleness in the touch. No sensitive love. He is hungry, and his hands speak to that. They both grab hold of your ass, squeezing—almost painfully.

You gasp, only to choke when Simon swipes his tongue over your pussy. He pauses at your entrance and then delves inside, curling the tip to run along your inner wall. Simon fucks you with his tongue, stroking repeatedly until your press your face against the bed and groan aloud.

Simon consumes, and you’re so lost in it that when he ceases tasting you, you don’t realize that it’s no longer his tongue but the head of his cock. He keeps a firm hold on your ass, the head beginning to push in.

At first there is resistance. Simon has your legs pressed together, creating a tighter space for him. It’s silly, really. He doesn’t need it, but fuck does it feel good.

“That’s it. Breathe. Good girl.”

Simon pushes in a bit more and the stretch short-circuits your brain. You don’t remember Simon being this large at Riot Room. You needed patience then, but this is beyond simply breathing through it. You’re being cracked open, split in two, cleaved.

“Breathe,” soothes Simon, stroking one hand up and down your spine. “You’ve taken me before.”

Whimpering in answer, you try to steady your breathing. Simon waits until your next stable exhale. He slides in a bit more, and your toes curl.

“Doing so well, love. Breathe for me again. That’s it.”

With another a steady breath, and some help from Simon, he seats himself entirely inside you. This angle is overloaded. You’re stretched to a point you didn’t think you could reach, and Simon hasn’t even started to fuck you yet.

You reach behind you—seeking him. Simon grasps your hand and he squeezes it before bringing to up to his mouth for a quick kiss against your knuckles. He gently releases your hand, and you bring it back to the bed.

Simon smooths both hands up and down your back before they settle. They find a home on the curve of your ass. Again, Simon grabs hold, and using this grip, slowly slides you up the length of his cock until just the head is inside.

The drag is slow. Languid. A beast with sharp teeth wanting to fill its appetite.

“Oh fuck,” you murmur into the bed, your walls fluttering slightly.

“Fuck,” groans Simon, the vowel elongating slightly.

With that same searing hold, Simon slams you down his length until your ass bounces against his pelvis. He repeats the motion, sliding slowly upward before bringing you back down on him again.

“Fuck,” you whisper into your forearm, because it’s all you can utter.

The stretch is unrelenting, and the angle hits deep, penetrating to a place that has your senses tingling with frenzy.

Simon creates the movement again, but this time the retreat isn’t slow. He sets a pace, bouncing you up and down his cock. With the position you’re locked into, all you can do is dig your fingers into the bed and take it.

He said he’d be rough, that this first time is for him, but it’s not painful—and it doesn’t scare you. If anything, it is primal—lustful. A deep root sinking further to make a home in the earth.

Simon is claiming your body in the way he needs to, and you accept this gladly. If he needs to fuck you like this, you’ll take it. Every time he buries himself inside you, he hits deep, treading toward pleasure.

Penetration alone won’t get you there, but these movements are enough to take you somewhere, and right now, you’re spinning. Clinging. Holding on with all your strength as if that will somehow ground you in the moment.

You’re not sliding across the bed. Simon’s hold on you is too firm. But your upper-half is slipping—melting like a late spring snow.

His grunts behind you are low, coming from somewhere deep within his body. With a slight twist, you dare a look back.

Simon’s head is dipped back in ecstasy, lids shut, jaw clenched. All the muscles in his arms, chest, and stomach flex with every thrust. He looks like a god—a fallen angel. Lucifer himself reborn from the ashes, and the ashes are the ink that marks his body.

One of his hands slide up to grasp your waist, and this hold is more intense. You gasp—choke, rest your forehead against your bicep as Simon continues to fuck you relentlessly.

Time is fleeting. You are lost to the rhythm of his pace, of the tight stretch and the sweat the blooms on your skin.

It is Simon squeezing your ass briefly and promptly withdrawing that brings you back to awareness. You don’t feel sticky between your legs. He did not come. But your confusion turns to sudden pleasure as Simon’s mouth returns to your pussy.

It’s just a few quick strokes of his tongue, and then Simon is flipping you onto your back, dragging you to the very edge of the bed. With one hand, he pushes your left leg wide, and with the other, Simon brings your right leg flush against his front, ankle at his shoulder. He hooks his arm around the leg against his chest, creating an anchor. His free hand rests against the inside of your thigh.

Once you’re in position, Simon returns to your pussy, keeping the same pace as before.

His shoulders are a bit hunched, body leaning forward slightly as he drives forward and back, skin smacking against skin. Other than that, it’s just your breathing and his, and the slick sound of your pussy taking him.

This time you’re free to writhe against him. The bed is not enough. You need to feel his skin.

Reaching out, you try to grasp for anything. What you receive is tenderness. The hand on your thigh disappears, and Simon snags your seeking hand, trapping it against your pelvis. But it’s not a rebuttal. It is not a refusal.

Simon is holding your hand, fingers intertwining.

“Look at me,” he growls, his hips stuttering slightly. You glance up. Make eye contact. It is brief. Fleeting. You are unable to hold his gaze. “Fuck, love. Look at me.”

Your eyes snap open, and Simon grinds his hips against you.

“I want to look into your eyes when I come inside you.” His chest heaves. “Don’t look away.”

You don’t. Never. You hold his gaze as Simon’s pace becomes a hurried, frenzied thing.

Simon groans, eyelids fluttering, and then he’s holding himself flush against you. You feel it then—his release. Your pussy is overly full, and you don’t care at all.

Simon’s breathing is deep, shoulders heaving slightly with every breath. At first, he seems a bit dazed, but then he smiles, and your heart flutters at the sight. After all of that, and he’s still holding your hand.

Without speaking, he brings that hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips to your fingers before bringing it back down to the bed. Simon finally releases them, placing his hand back on your inner thigh.

He does not withdraw. Simon stays inside you.

“Give me a couple minutes,” says Simon with a shaky breath. His hand on your thigh meanders inward, and then his thumb brushes over your clit.

The touch is a shock, and your pussy reflexively clenches around him, all the muscles in your abdomen tensing slightly.

Simon grunts when you squeeze around him, and then chuckles. “We’ll get back to it.”

“You want a second round?” you ask, breathless.

You hardly did anything and yet your limbs feel like rubber.

“Not up for it?” he replies, a cheeky expression on his face.

You roll your eyes and Simon’s deep laugh makes you grin. “Fuck you, Simon.”

“If you insist,” he croons, rocking his hips slightly.

“Stop,” you groan, even as Simon continues to rub your clit.

You begin to squirm, and Simon eases your leg back to the bed. He shifts again to accommodate it, and that one movement sends a bolt of pleasure up your spine.

“Said I wasn’t done with you.”

“I know,” you mutter as if this displeases you. It doesn’t. You do want more, even if your limbs ache.

Simon ceases playing with your clit and returns to stroking your inner thigh. “You good?”

You nod, and reach for him again. Simon accepts the touch.

The two of you linger there for a few minutes before Simon slips from your pussy with a gentle moan. His gaze falls to the place between your legs, and you feel his cum dripping out. Simon is transfixed, staring intently at your pussy before his gaze sweeps to your face.

“Let’s worry about you now.”

With effortlessness, Simon drags you into a seated position before drawing you into his arms. You instinctually wrap your arms around his neck as Simon turns to sit on the bed.  He shifts backward, coming to rest against the old headboard. Adjusting you in his lap, Simon puts you into a seated position, your back to his chest, legs open to the room and draped over his slightly bent legs.

His hands caress over your body.

Abdomen. Breasts. Throat.

Simon leaves nothing untouched. He is so gentle—so careful with you. His face presses against your temple, and he sighs as if this is his happiest moment. You snuggle further against him, matching his sigh, allowing your head to rest against his shoulder.

Hands delve. Ascend.

Simon brings one up to the front of your throat while the other sinks between your legs. He goes right past your clit to press two fingers into the mess.

“Mine,” murmurs Simon, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

Lazily, Simon moves his fingers in and out of your pussy. The palm of his hand rubs against your clit. The swirling, coiling sensation begins to build again. The back of your head presses against Simon’s shoulder. You reach up and snake your arm to the back of his neck.

“Lift you hips for me, love.”

The instruction is delivered with a sultry purr. You do not hesitate. Simon’s fingers slip from your pussy and in their place is his cock. He slides home and you moan aloud.

“Feel so good,” he says softly, rocking his hips, creating a sleepy rhythm. “Made for me.”

Simon’s hand tightens around your throat while the other settles over your clit. Like his hips, Simon rocks slowly, moving the two in tandem with the other. There is no exertion or need to find the finish line.

There is only you and him pressed together.

The fire in the hearth burns low, creating long shadows in the room, and hardly reaching the bed.

Simon’s head tilts slightly, and with his hold on your throat, he guides your face to him. You already know what he wants, and the kisses that follow are just as slow and lazy. Without rushing, you could stay like this forever. Even your orgasm blooms with the gentleness of pressed linens after a wash.

By the second orgasm, Simon’s hips begin a steady thrust, bouncing you lightly in his lap. Like this, he still does not stop kissing you—still doesn’t remove his fingers from your clit. Every touch and stroke are pushing you over the edge until you entirely melt into him.

He understands. He does.

Simon’s thighs tense beneath you, and his kisses pause. You gasp, wanting him back, and Simon dives in, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth as he finishes inside you.

Simon releases your lip, goes in for one more kiss. This one is deep—a claiming.

He eases you off his cock, some of his cum slipping out in the process, and then helps you settle into the bed.

“Come here,” he says softly, sinking down onto his back beneath the sheets, arms open and waiting.

You crawl into him, snuggling close, inhaling his scent. It wraps around you and fills your lungs. Peace sinks into your skin, your veins, and the marrow in your bones. It is all you know. All you aspire to be.

You are safe here in Simon’s arms.

His lips brush against your forehead and you snuggle in a bit closer, gently stroking your hand over his chest. Your eyelids are heavy, and you’re not really looking at him, but your fingers wander, traveling over his skin, tracing lines and circles in a languid fashion.

“That’s nice,” he says, voice gruff.

“I’ll keep doing it then,” you reply, pressing a kiss to his ribs before returning to your task.

Beneath the ink are divots and rises. They are scars—this you already know—but you’ve never really touched them or even asked about them. You don’t believe that it’s your place to do so. With Simon, you don’t want to push. You want him to come to you.

From his chest, you move to the furthest part of his shoulder. His entire are and most of his shoulder is a blackout tattoo, and beneath it is a rippling map of scaring that stops near his elbow. Still, you do not question, but you give this part of him just as much attention as the rest. You don’t want him to think you’re avoiding it.

“They’re burn scars,” he says, voice a bit flat.

You lick your lips, deciding it’s best to say what you’re thinking. “Can hardly tell with the ink.”

It’s true. It mostly blends in. If anything, it adds an interesting texture. Someone glancing at it might think it’s a creative choice before they thought it was burn scars.

Simon sighs and then glances up at the ceiling. He grasps your wandering hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your open palm before returning it to where he took it from.

You do not keep tracing. You keep your hand still.

“Got it while I was in the military.”

This you already figured out. His military career is still a bit of a gray area between you. Simon briefly addressed what he did, that he was essentially special forces, but he didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t press him then either.

But you were the one asking. British Intelligence came inquiring about Archie to his family, and you thought Simon might have some insight you could use to figure out if you should worry or not. It does still bother—still wiggles at the back of your mind like a blind worm.

“Before or after Riot Room?” you ask hesitantly, unsure if this is this the route to go.

Simon blinks a few times in rapid succession, still staring at the ceiling. “After.”

He does not elaborate and you do not press. You curl up tighter against him, snuggling into the crook of his arm. Simon shifts, his arm draped under and over your back tightening. He pulls you in, and leans in for a quick kiss on your forehead.

“It’s why I tattoo now.”

You frown. “They kicked you out for burns?”

The question comes out quickly, and you inwardly chastise yourself for it. You’re digging around.

Even with the knowledge you do have, that doesn’t sound right. If someone is able-bodied, and they’re psychologically okay, why would they turn him away? It doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he says, and you hear the sadness in his voice.

Whatever the memory, it’s a painful one. Still, you do not seek out more answers. This isn’t a place for you to run around in without his consent. It doesn’t mean you don’t want to know. You do. You want Simon to open up about these things, to reveal these pieces even if they are mere fragments of understanding.

“But you have your shop now,” you reply, deciding to divert the conversation elsewhere. You return to running your fingers over his skin.

Simon’s smile returns—a genuine one. Even the tips of his cheeks gain a pinkish hue. “I do.” He turns his head so he can look at you. “And you.”

You laugh and start to roll onto your back, but Simon draws your right back to him, grabbing the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

It is sweet and passionate.

A lover’s kiss.

Wraith.

But perhaps not a wraith any longer. That name could be set aside.

There is nothing hellish about him, and the danger you sensed all those years ago is simply a part of him. A history of violence you don’t entirely know yet but would like to understand if it brings you closer to him.

Those burdens shouldn’t just be on his shoulders.

Simon’s kisses become soft again. Lazy. You linger in the moment, seeking a few more before deciding to ask the next question.

“Are you done with me tonight?” you ask, fingers lightly grazing the line of his jaw. You catch your index finger just under his chin, drawing him back for another quick kiss.

“Could be. Up to you,” he answers, a bit of that heat returning in his gaze.

“Up to me?” you respond, one eyebrow arching in question.

Simon goes in for another kiss, and this time he pushes you onto your back. Your legs naturally part of him, and Simon settles between as if the two of you have done this countless times before.

He keeps his hand on your neck, but his kisses do not abate. They become deeper—hungrier. Incessant and insistent. Your lips part and Simon’s tongue delves inside. You suck on it. Release. Pull a guttural groan from him.

“If it were up to me,” he rasps between kisses. “I’d fuck you all night and into the morning.”

His words send a spiral of pleasure to your core. Your thighs quiver and then tighten around his hips.

“I don’t believe you,” you reply when you finally have a chance to catch your breath.

Simon presses his pelvis against your sex and his hardness is all the answer you need.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggle as Simon teasingly nips at your bottom lip.

“Only for you,” he coos, his teeth finally making a bit of contact.

Heat rises to your cheeks and floods your body. This softness is nice and you want to stay like this. Just the two of you in this old cottage.

“What’s the plan, Simon?”

“Plan?” he mumbles, head dipping so that his lips can nip and kiss along your collarbone.

“Are we staying like this the whole time?”

Simon nods. “You’re not leaving this bed,” he says against the curve of your breast.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Allowed.”

You snort. “To eat?”

“Of course.”

The tip of Simon’s tongue brushes over your pebbled nipple.

“What if I want to go outside? Breathe some fresh highland air?”

At this question, Simon gently bites, pulling a little gasp from you. “I’ll open the fucking window so you can look outside.”

“Simon,” you hiss, smacking the side of his chest.

His head lifts, those brown eyes of his piercing you like a spear. “I want you to myself for a bit.”

I want you to myself for a bit.

There is a desperate tone to his voice that worries you, but you dismiss it.

It’s nothing, and you are with the man you care for the most.

Your fingers slide over his cheek and then thread through his hair. Simon shifts forward, finding your lips again, and you open for him.

He can have you alone.

He can have you just to himself.

taglist:

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@saoirse06 @ferns-fics @lialacleaf @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

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[sirenscriptures]

⭒˚‧ POST-WORK OUT ₊˚・⊹ — t. shiba

୨୧ before reading: fem ! reader, no plot necessary, mirror sex, sweaty sex, use of pet/endearment names, praise, creampie, groping, size difference. 1.5k.

⭒˚‧ notes: another reupload from my old blog <3 wanting to get back into tokyo rev since i miss it very very much so enjoy this morsel for now!

Ꮺᥫ᭡ 18+ only. minors and blank/empty blogs DNI ✰⊰

“you’re home early.” you murmur with a smile, eyes remaining fixated on the mirror in front of you.

in the corner of your eye, you could glimpse his large figure step through the doorway of your shared apartment, closing the door behind him with a click.

dressed in nothing but a gym tank top laced with a jacket and sweatpants that still had the faint remnants of sweat from taiju’s evening workout, even a slight glance from you could capture just how big he was.

shit…you may have been good at hiding it by now, but the sight of your bulky, rugged boyfriend coming home like that did so many things to you.

his sharp gaze never truly met with your own, but judging by the sweet smell of your perfume filling the room and the fresh, damp shower smell radiating from your bedroom, he could tell you looked damn good tonight.

you swiped the black eyeliner wand over your waterline, painting a crisp, thin line towards your eyelid. a neat, pointy wing perched at the edge of your eyes now, making your pupils appear brighter.

tossing his jacket to the couch, taiju turned to look at you.

of course, you were dressed in his favorite outfit he bought for you. a lacy top with a sweetheart neckline, a skirt lined with one of his chains, and the sapphire necklace across your chest.

something simple as seeing you so nonchalantly apply your makeup was enough to puncture his mind with so many thoughts.

you were such a distraction to him…the way you were able to erase anything he was thinking about in the moment. but it was one distraction he would never regret submitting to.

the image of him bending you over the vanity you stood in front of, large hand binding your neck as your pretty, teary eyes pleaded up at him for more was all he could picture as he approached you.

it was almost as if the scent of you drew him closer, like some sort of exotic predator luring it’s prey into a trap.

except now, it seemed you were playing the part of the prey in this instance…

before the mascara brush could meet with your eyelashes for a second coating, you felt his hands gingery running up your sides, starting from your hips.

you met his touch with a shiver, glancing at him softly, that darling smile of yours still making his blood rush.

taiju could feel you start to stiffen slightly as his hands snaked up your stomach, then to fondling your breasts. his breath grew rugged and balmy against your neck.

“taiju,” you whine, your lips grazing against his own hungrily.

hearing his name quivering out from your mouth was more addicting than he first expected. his urges to tear into you mercilessly were strong. but, of course, he was a respectful man before he was a monster. especially with those he cared about.

you try not to gasp as he takes you by the chin, drawing you into a kiss. he nearly groans into your mouth as your tongues meet concurrently.

his breath was hot and raucous the more he tasted you, his free hand still groping at your chest.

as he pulled away, the look in his eyes seemed softer than usual. his brow wasn’t furrowed in a rough twist as it often was; it seemed as though he was fully relaxed after your long, deep kisses.

his hand caressed your face, stare completely unbreakable from yours.

“are you ok with this?“ he asks, head gently leaning against your forehead.

you could still hear him slightly panting as he spoke, and looking down, you could see the swelling beginning to form within his sweats.

nodding, you can’t deny or hide the eagerness starting to fire up within you now.

even the slightest thought of him taking you, no matter how many times you two had already done it together, it always managed to make you feel so weak in the knees. it was almost like you were his little puppet in this state, bending completely to his will.

before you can string another thought together, you can feel his erection through the flimsy cloth of his sweats pressing against your ass, his hands messily grabbing at your blouse.

it’s a bit of a tangle before he can get your top off, exposing your upper body to the mirror in front of you. his rough hands run over your breasts favorably, toying with your nipples with a smirk.

“look at yourself, baby,” taiju admires, taking you by the chin again, his gaze pinned to you through your reflection in the mirror.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” he groans, his hips bucking against your soft backside.

you curse under your breath, almost unable to hold yourself together as he tugs your skirt and underwear clean off, fully exposing you now.

moving to face him, he stops you for a moment, blinking at you with that same smile flavoring his lips.

“not yet.” he whispers, facing you back to where you faced the mirror, bending you over slightly.

“i want you to see this.” he purrs, deep voice vibrating with an almost teasing ardor.

you stop yourself from protesting his word, trying your best to stay patient. though, it’s hard when the tip of his cock is taunting your entrance through the separation of a few measly threads.

as he pulls off his clothes, you can feel yourself twitch gazing at his newly exposed body. the fact he’s so much bigger than you and that he has you nearly folded over…it’s almost too much to handle.

taiju makes sure he’s gentle when he slides in, his entire body prickling with heat as his teeth grit. your plush walls take him in so well, your now hot wetness enveloping him the deeper he pushes inside you.

your hands gripped the edge of the wooden surface beneath you, the shape your knuckles protruding through your skin with how tight you held on. even though his thrusts were gentle and slow, the feeling of him stretching you out was enough to make you want to cry out.

“god—fuck…” he growls, rough fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

his thrusts almost immediately pick up in speed as the trembling whimpers falling from your lips crescendo into desperate sobs.

through the mirror, he could see the freshly-applied mascara and liner begin to trickle down your cheeks. you looked so ruined already…it made him throb even more, coming so close to filling you up.

he smirks, leveling his face with yours, thrusts keeping a consistent, unfaltering pace.

“you’re doin’ so good, honey…” he practically drools over you. “i’m gonna fill you up so fuckin’ much.”

as his cock pounds deeper and faster inside of you, the vanity responds with rapid slams against the wall. you can barely make out any words as he plows into your now dribbling wetness, your legs no longer being able to hold you up with how much they’re shaking.

briefly stopping to turn you around, you’re greeted with those sharp eyes again as he re-adjusts himself inside of you.

you can’t help it. you pull him towards you into another kiss, breathing out shakily as his tongue snakes its way into your mouth again. he takes his time tasting you, tongue swiping against yours as he hums in approval.

taiju chuckles as you whine in disappointment when he pulls away, wiping off a tiny string of drool that’s beneath your lips.

“that’s my girl.” he says huskily as his thrusts pick up once more, marveling at how your tits bounce eagerly in front of him.

he can’t stop himself from fucking so deep until he’s scraping against your cervix, watching in awe as your head flings backwards. you’re so wet that every time he thrusts inside you, there’s a loud slap that rings throughout your living room.

his final thrusts are harsh, slapping into you so hard that you’re certain you can see the glittering of stars beginning to cloud your vision. his seed is so warm inside you, as he pulls out, you can feel some of it trickle down your inner thigh.

your entire weight is upon him, breath heavy as you try to relax yourself. taiju can’t hide his smile as he holds you in his arms, your body only partially supported by the vanity.

as you look up at him again, he chuckles at the streaks of makeup crusted beneath your eyes.

“i really did a number on you there, huh?” he teases.

you roll your eyes playfully. “let me wipe it off.”

you reach for the wrinkled bag of makeup wipes that shockingly didn’t get knocked off the vanity with the rest of your products. but that’s when he stopped you.

“i’ve got a better idea.” he says, scooping you up into his arms, making you straddle him.

“how about we shower if off, hm?” he says, leaning his forehead against yours again, a soft gesture that always made your heart flutter.

“i can help you clean up.” he winks, that same shitty grin on his face again.

“shut up…” you scoff back laughter, fighting the smile that was spreading across your lips.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post on to any other site.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

[squiddy-god]

Pomfriore as vampires

This is a re-upload from my terminated account squid-god-supreme. This is technically part of the monster test Au I had but it isn't what the three of them are it's just for Halloween

CW : vampires, blood, gn!reader, uhhhhhh established relationship

Vil 

Vil comes from a very long line of vampires, and he's very classy so he doesn't "hunt"

He gets his blood from his family's blood bank, a personal supplier that ethically sources the blood

Of course after he's revealed himself as a vampire to his s/O it's a different story! If they'll let him then he'll simply drink from them

He doesn't drink blood very often, nor does he have a taste for human food beside a few select things. 

When drinking from his s/O vil is romantic, lighting candles, making a dinner he's sure you'll enjoy, the works

His favorite place to bite is your lips and the inside of your wrist 

Rook 

😃Literally hunts- 

Although he mostly survives off of animal blood from creatures he kills, it's not uncommon for him to go hunting and simply suck blood from an animal carcass right then and there 

So that is mostly how he eats

Unlike the other two took needs no convincing if you offer to let him feed off you

Another romantic<3 

Possibly even more to than vil~ he'll also light candles, probably draw you two a warm bath, dinner, cuddles, reading to you, 

If you find it romantic he'll do it

Very gentle when he bites

Favorite places to bite are your wrists and collar bone above your heart

Epel

Only recently turned so he's still adjusting! 

I think at first he just eats whatever he can find, small farm animals and such, he never kills them unless he has to, only taking what he needs to survive 

If his s/o offers their blood it's messy, he tries to make it not hurt but he's very inexperienced so it gets messy

He can go overboard sometimes but he always apologizes profusely

He really loves to cuddle afterwards, he quickly learns that it's quite intense so aftercare is a must 

Quickly becomes addicted to you

[amethystwrytes]

Safe. (Part Five)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 5K

AN: (1) Two chapters in one week feels excessive - but it's finished, and it’s Minho's BIRTHDAY after all, and also I think I’d like to start posting on Fridays anyway. (2) I don’t want to talk about the unspeakably preposterous and unbelievable practicality/mechanics of one of these smut scenes. You will know it when you see it and you will shush. *Suspension of disbelief rabble rabble*. Thank you, that is all.

~ PART FIVE ~ [Series M. List Here]

You’re setting the table for supper when you hear the key to the front door twist in the lock. Your stomach hardens and you eye Christopher sitting in the living room. You wonder when someone will be able to open your front door without you thinking that they’re going to come barreling through to hurt you, but it’s only Minho. 

“You can go,” Minho casually instructs Chris, who instantly stands and gives you a nod.

“Here,” you call Christopher over, and hand him a to-go box. You made way too much and even though you’re still sore at him for spilling your secrets, you want the man to eat. He takes it with a smile and a thank you, then heads out. 

Minho waits for him to shut it completely before joining you in the kitchen. 

“God that smells amazing, what did you make?” he wraps his hands around you from behind, his head dipping into the small of your neck and shoulder. 

“Spicy chicken, fried rice, and a cucumber salad because I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of you eat a fucking vegetable,” you smile. 

He chuckles, “You take such good care of us,” he smiles against your face before kissing your cheek. 

You briefly eye the front door, “Where’s Hyunjin?” 

Minhos cheerful expression fades for a split second, but he plucks a cucumber slice out of the bowl and corrects himself, “He went home to clean up a bit. He’s coming.” 

“You didn’t clean up?” you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Love, I’ve been doing this a long time, trust me when I say I’m clean as a whistle,” he explains. 

You shrug, “Okay, but it’s not polite to eat before everyone arrives, so put that salad in the refrigerator to keep it cool please,” you instruct as you slide the chicken and rice into the oven to keep warm. 

Minho does as he’s told, surprisingly, then looks at you, “I’m sorry.” 

Your brows furrow, “Sorry?” 

He nods, “I’m sorry for what I said to you in your room that day, I’m sorry for threatening to frame you for selling drugs out of the house, I’m sorry for ever giving you a reason to think I would hurt you.” 

You’d been thinking all afternoon of how you want to talk, of what you want to say to both of them this evening, but this you were not expecting. 

You let out a steady breath and nod, “I guess what I wonder then, is why? Why would you say those things? If you truly never intended to hurt me, then why would you say such awful things?” 

He presses his lips into a line and traces the streaks in the marble countertop. 

“Well?” you urge. 

“I’ve acted the way I’ve acted because I wanted you to hate me. You can’t lose people you love if you love no one and no one loves you. My feelings would be easier to resolve and manage if you hated me,” he smiles sadly, “but when you said you weren’t comfortable being seen with me, I realized having you hate me was exceptionally painful, so I did what I do when I get hurt or angry and acted like a fucking asshole. When you looked at me that day, scared and sad…I realized that I’d fucked up.”

“You are so…” you sigh, “Unstable. You know that, right?” 

“Yes,” he chuckles, “I’m aware.” 

You think of his wife and your heart aches for him again, “Were you ever going to tell me about her?” you wonder. 

His eyes widen a bit, he doesn’t need any clarification to know who you’re asking about. 

“Seola? I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Probably…eventually. I don’t talk about her often, I don’t…I don’t like to. How did you find out about her?” 

“Jisoo did my hair and makeup for the Casino night,” you tell him, you can’t quite measure if he’s upset about you knowing or not, and you don’t want to throw Christopher under the bus, despite his loose lips. Jisoo feels like a safer option. 

He sighs, “Seola…I loved her with my whole heart. I told her early on that she should stay as far away from me as possible, but she wouldn’t,” he smiles. “When she was taken from me, I never thought I’d ever be able to have feelings for anyone else, I didn’t want to. Then you and I met, and at first I thought I could treat you like the other people I’ve slept with over the past few years, use you the way you were using me - for human contact, to feel good, but…” he trails off, unsure of how to explain it. 

“...but it feels like more,” you finish for him. 

“Yes,” he nods, stepping closer to you, taking your face gently between his hands, “it does.” 

He leans down slowly, gently, and kisses your lips. 

“Please don’t leave us,” he whispers, “don’t leave me.” 

“Then don’t ever make me feel like I need to be afraid of you,” you whisper back. 

“I won’t,” he answers. 

“Don’t let them hurt me again,” you add. 

“No one will ever lay a hand on you again baby, not as long as I’m breathing,” he promises.

You press your lips against his, pull his shirt with your fingertips, drawing him into you. His tongue traces the lines of your bottom lip and you greet it with your own. You melt as his hands roam your body, under your shirt to squeeze and caress the warm skin. You moan into his mouth and he pushes you against the countertops. 

You feel him falter and he pulls away, the two of you staring at each other; you wondering why he stopped, and him looking hindered by something unseen. 

“Do you have feelings for Hyunjin?” he asks. You were expecting this question from one or both of them at some point this evening, but it still hits you abrasively. You’re not willing to lie though. If you’re doing this, all of it, then there is no room for a growing pile of lies between you. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have feelings for me?” 

“Yes, I do,” you nod, lifting your fingers to his hair to play with the dark strands. 

“That’s going to get extremely messy,” he warns. 

“Then it will fit right in, because all of this is a mess,” you say, looking hard at the floor. He lifts your chin up so your gaze finds his. 

“Is that really what you want? Both of us? I need to know.” 

You think for a moment, think about how you should answer, think about what his response is going to be. 

“I want you both.” 

“Is it because I’m not enough? Or because he’s not enough?” he asks, and you hear the defense in his voice, the blow to his pride and it pains you. 

You shake your head, lace your fingers with his, “It’s not that. Not at all.  You are both more than enough. It’s because you both make me feel things that I crave, because you are two polar opposite men, who make me feel so strongly, and so good when I’m with you but in such very different ways, and maybe I’m just being selfish, I know I am actually, but I don’t want to give up the way I feel when I’m with either of you.” 

Minho is about to respond when the knock on the door drags both your attentions away from the conversation. 

“It’s me, Hyunjin,” a muffled voice calls out from behind the door. 

You squeeze Minhos arm and he lays his hand over yours, giving you a halfhearted smile, but a smile, and that’s better than nothing. 

You cross the space and open the front door to Hyunjins sweet smile, the top half of his jet black hair tied up into a wet bun, the scent of his shampoo still fragrant. 

“Hi,” you smile. 

“Hi beautiful.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Dinner starts out dreadfully silent. So silent in fact that you can barely touch your food. Minho and Hyunjin dig in though, stuffing chicken, rice and cucumbers in at an alarming pace that makes you smile. They’re used to silence, to awkwardness. They’ve learned to navigate it, thrive in it, and carry on regardless of the tension. 

“Well, I’d ask you both how your day was but I suppose I know,” you finally attempt a joke, but it doesn’t come out like you intended it to and no one laughs, including you. You grab the cold beer you served with the chicken and take a very long swig. 

Minho wipes his mouth with a napkin and gives you a soft, understanding look, “You wanted us here Love, it’s your meeting so to speak,” he says. 

Hyunjin looks between the two of you as he chews his food, he seems to understand he’s missed part of the conversation, the conversation you started with Minho but this is all ass backwards and not how you wanted to start your ‘meeting.’ 

“Alright, yes,” you clear your throat, “I do have things I want to discuss with both of you.” 

Both men take a break from eating and sit a little straighter, giving you their full attention. You realize now that your hope at a more casual conversation over food was a fruitless endeavor, these men are too serious for casual. 

“I realized something today,” you begin, “I’ve realized that despite what I’ve told myself the past several months, that I am part of this organization. I’ve helped all of you at one point or another, and maybe I’ve just helped in the least criminal of ways, but I have committed crimes with you whether I like it or not. I’ve heard things, I know names, I know what you’ve done, and the things you intend to do, I am an accomplice,” you say it out loud and although it makes it real, there is a part of you that’s relieved to say it to just get it out there. 

Neither Hyunjin or Minho say anything so you continue, “I was going to run, but I think that running away would just mean that I’m running straight into more trouble for myself, for one. But also…” you trail off, “but also, I don’t want to run away from either of you.” 

Hyunjin looks at Minho so quickly that you think it could give him whiplash, but Minho doesn’t react to any of it. 

“But before we talk about that, or what that means, or how to even navigate it, I have terms I’d like to lay out,” you look at both of them. 

“What are your terms Love?” Minho asks, all business, and you wonder if he’s about to produce a pen and notebook to take notes in. 

“First, I don’t like the way some of your guys speak to me as if I’m your personal fuck toy,” you say. 

“Seungmin.” 

Hyunjin and Minho say his name simultaneously. 

“Okay yes, Seungmin, but I don’t want him punished or whatever. I would just like it made clear that while we don’t have to like each other, we don’t need to speak so disrespectfully to one another, and not to sound like a child but he always starts it,” you take another swig of beer. Minho looks as though he’s holding in a chuckle and this puts you at ease a bit. 

“It will be made clear to him and to all my employees that you are to be treated and spoken to with absolutely nothing but respect,” Minho nods with a smile, “What else?” 

“I don’t want to know everything, I don’t need to know everything, but I also don’t want to be treated like Christopher - as just an employee who does as she’s told and is only told the bare minimum. I want to be trusted, and I want you to talk to me freely about things that you need to get off your mind, or things that impact me in any way,” you say. 

“Trust is earned,” Minho says, “but after everything you’ve been through, I believe you’ve more than earned it, so done.” 

“Finally,” you take a breath, “it’s been hard for me since the night I got attacked to be alone here, or anywhere for that matter, and I know you both have things that need done, that you can’t be here all the time, and I appreciate Christopher, and Jisung, and the others…but I want you two - not necessarily at the same time - but I want the two of you.” 

The room sinks back into that familiar silence again and you wait impatiently for someone to say something, you fork some chicken and stuff it in your mouth for something to do. 

“Fine, I’ll be the one to say it,” Hyunjin half laughs, “Are we talking about fucking each other or protection detail?” 

It’s Minhos turn to take an uncomfortably large swig of beer and you have to force the small bite of chicken down your throat roughly. 

“I…well…” you stutter, “In this specific moment I’m talking about who is here in the house with me,” you clarify. 

“And what about outside this specific moment?” Minho asks for more clarification and you realize that the time has come, whether you were ready for it or not, to tell them both what you actually want. Is it what you want? You’ve never attempted a relationship that had more than two people in it, but none of those relationships turned out very well so you can’t really cite them as reliable sources, can you? 

“Honestly?” you inhale deeply and let it go, “Honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed to having you both in the other way at the same time, I’ve never done that before, it would be my first time - but the thought of it makes me wet just imagining it.” 

Hyunjin bites his bottom lip and sits back in his seat. To say you’re suddenly feeling warm is an understatement, so you chug the rest of your beer then get up for another. 

“What do you think about that?�� Minho asks Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin licks his lips and you think you might combust, “Well, it wouldn’t be my first time,” he says with a smile that might be a little too proud, “it could be lots of fun,” he says avoiding eye contact with Minho and only looking at you. You swallow hard. 

“How many times have the two of you…” Minho starts, but you answer before he can finish.

“Hyunjin and I have never had sex,” you tell him, trying to keep any emotion from your voice like how it’s a bit disappointing that you’ve not slept with Hyunjin, or how you’re scared that Minho will be upset if you’d said you had, or how excited you are that you might actually get fucked by both of the men sitting with you at this table. 

“Hmm,” Minho nods, “I see.” 

“What do you think about it, boss?” Hyunjin finally looks at him, “We both said we didn’t want to share after all.” 

Only Hwang Hyunjin could look at Lee Minho and say that without it sounding like a challenge, like a threat. 

Minho exhales slowly and shrugs, “It may be a shock to some, but I’m not a closed minded man, however, I am a possessive one,” he looks at you and chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing with consideration, “so the answer to your question is that I’m not sure.” 

Your heart sinks a little, and you’re unsure of what to say. 

“We can work with possessive,” Hyunjin says, the corners of his mouth slipping into a coy smile, as if he’s flirting with Minho and your clit throbs, you can feel the way you’re soaked and you press your thighs together.

“Oh?” is all Minho responds with. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin nods, “I’m not a power player, I don’t have to be a top, I don’t have to be a bottom, I’m not picky, and you should know by now I’m very good at being told what to do.” 

You watch as Minhos expression changes, he looks at Hyunjin in a way you’ve never seen him look at any of his guys before, and then he looks at you, “You’re being awfully quiet now darling.” 

It takes you a solid three seconds to realize he’s talking to you, you’re gripping the neck of your beer so hard it might bust. 

“I’m just, thoroughly enjoying this conversation,” you grin. 

“How much?” he asks. 

Well. That was an invitation if you’ve ever heard one. You swallow your sip of beer and stand, shuffling out the wrinkles of your cotton skirt and step closer to him, “Would you like to see?” you ask, bunching up the skirt in your fists higher and higher until the tops of your thighs are exposed. 

Minho chews his lip as his fingertips trace delicate lines up your legs, finally disappearing beneath the fabric, pushing your panties to the side so he can swirl them in your arousal. You gasp, tilting your head back as he moves his fingers against you. 

“My, my,” he whispers, voice gravelly with want, and he looks as if he wants to knock everything off the table to fuck you on it. You wouldn’t be opposed. 

Hyunjin sits motionless on the other side, watching, and though you’ve never really considered how it would make you feel, you find that having him watch feels very good. 

Minho removes his fingers from your cunt and uses them to motion Hyunjin over. Your heart starts pounding. Hyunjin moves slowly, but you can see his erection straining against his pants. 

“So Hyunjin has never played with you?” Minho asks, his eyes on Hyunjin. 

“We’ve kissed…” you manage to speak between catching your breath. 

“But he’s never tasted you? Your pussy that is?” 

You shake your head back and forth. 

“Go on then,” Minho looks at him darkly, touching Hyunjins mouth with his fingertips, spreading your slick across his bottom lip. Hyunjin sucks Minhos fingers into his mouth hungrily, a groan escaping from somewhere deep in his chest. 

“I have to admit, knowing he’s not had you is pretty satisfying to me,” Minho chuckles, yanking his fingers from Hyunjins mouth, “I wonder how far I can push him before he comes undone?” he stands from the table, “Has everyone eaten? No ones starving anymore?” he asks the two of you and finishes off his beer. 

“Not for food,” Hyunjin comments and winks at you. 

“Then let’s go to the living room, shall we?” Minho grabs your hand and pulls you forward, Hyunjin following close behind. 

Minho kisses you deeply, then takes a seat in the armchair, “Why don’t you help our girl out of her pretty clothes?” 

“Gladly,” Hyunjin whispers, taking the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, he tosses it across the room then drops to his knees as you unzip the side of your skirt. He helps you shimmy it down into a pool of fabric around your feet and you step away from it. Hyunjin looks up at you, his eyes scanning your body, and he hooks his fingers into your underwear, pulling them slowly down your legs. 

“Don’t even think about putting your lips on her, not yet, I say when,” Minho instructs from the chair. Hyunjin freezes as if that’s exactly what he was about to do. 

“Yes sir,” Hyunjin grins. 

You want to interject and say that if Minho doesn’t give the go ahead soon, you might be the one coming undone, but you stay silent, you’re not sure what to do anyway, and something in your gut tells you it needs to happen like this, for them, in order for Minho to be right with it. 

“Sit on the sofa, Love,” Minho tells you and you sit, like a good girl, on the sofa then look at him for further instruction. He laughs, “You look so eager darling, so fucking turned on, do you want me to be nice for you?” 

“Yes,” you nod frantically, “Please.” 

“Do you want him to taste your cunt finally?” 

“Mmhmm,” you keep nodding, leaning back into the cushions, kneading your breasts. 

“Spread your legs for him, so he can see how fucking gorgeous you are,” he instructs. 

You nearly go out of your mind watching Hyunjin crawl between your legs, his fingernails raking red lines up your thighs. Hyunjin looks behind at Minho for permission. 

“First,” Minho halts him, “take your shirt and pants off, you look dreadfully uncomfortable.” 

Hyunjin smiles and tears his shirt over his head, then stands briefly to remove his trousers before resuming his position between your legs. 

“Now, make our princess cum,” Minho grins. 

Hyunjin does what he’s told, but he also takes his sweet time, licking and sucking kisses on the inside of your thighs and you wonder if he’s savoring the moment like you. This heated, passionate affair that seems to have been building up since the night you sewed stitches into his side. 

Finally, he grabs hold of your thighs roughly and drags you to the edge of the sofa, “you ready Doll?” 

“God, yes…” 

His tongue is eager against your flesh, but in true Hyunjin fashion, is also quick, soft, controlled and deliberate. He was told to make you cum, and he’s honing in on that target like his life depends on it. 

“How does it feel, baby?” Minho asks and you manage to turn your head towards him, “let’s hear you.” 

“It feels so fucking good, he’s so good at it,” you whimper, looking back down at Hyunjin. His eyes lock with yours and you watch as his tongue appears and disappears between your folds. You rest your head back onto the sofa and moan, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, you’re so close. 

“She’s about to cum, I can tell by her face,” Minho smiles, and you nod, unable to verbally confirm this, “let go baby, cum for him.” 

Minhos deep, gravelly command paired with Hyunjins soft tongue lapping at you pushes you far beyond your capacity to hold yourself back. Your body quakes as your orgasm ripples over and over, your clit becoming so sensitive you have to physically push Hyunjins face away with your hands and plea with a quiet “stop.” 

Hyunjin is totally out of breath as he sits back on his ankles, he wipes his mouth with his arm, eyes dark, and looks at Minho. 

“How close are you to busting?” Minho chuckles. 

“Very.” 

Minho licks his lips, then unzips his pants, releasing his own cock from the confines of his clothes. He strokes himself gently then nods his head towards you, “Go on then, she loves getting fucked right after you eat her out, don’t you baby?” 

“Yes,” you groan, “Very much.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate a moment before ripping his boxers down and kicking them away, he takes your shoulders and shoves you down onto the sofa, propping one of your legs on the back and sliding between. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll last,” Hyunjin warns. 

“It’s okay,” you breathe, “you don’t have to make me cum again.” 

“Yes he does,” Minho says coolly from the chair, “yes he fucking does.” 

“Heard,” Hyunjin manages to tease. 

Hyunjin lines himself up with you as you dig your nails into his shoulders, desperate for it, needing it. He pushes in slowly, and your eyes lock as he fills you to the hilt. Your lips part and you wiggle a bit, urging him to move, he does. He’s going impossibly slow, his brows knitted together in concentration. 

“Fuck you’re perfect,” he moans, his hips speeding up just a bit. You can’t help but steal a look at Minho, who watches you both from the same chair he’s been sitting in, slowly stroking himself, lip tucked tightly between his teeth. 

You lift your hips a bit to meet Hyunjins thrusts, sliding your hands down his sides, around his thighs to pull him closer, deeper. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, his name a plea for him to do something, though you’re unsure of what. Feeling his cock drag in and out, hitting some delicious spot within, watching Minho look and hearing his little gasps every time you whimper or moan might actually be your undoing. 

Hyunjins movements become more desperate, more erratic, and you’re sure he won’t be able to hold himself back much longer. You take his face in your hands and he looks at you, “Make me cum,” you gently drag his hand down to your neck, his breath stutters as he wraps his long, delicate fingers around your throat to hold you down gently while he fucks into you. You push back with every thrust, causing a rough but welcome collision and you cum so hard around his cock that you can feel it in your very bones. You cry out, hips bucking just a bit off the sofa as you spasm around him. 

He thrusts into you only twice more before freezing, his breath escaping in a muffled moan as he buries his face into your neck. 

Hyunjin pulls you towards him and captures your lips with his.

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

Minho finally makes his way to the couch, Hyunjin moves aside, practically collapsing. 

“Feel better?” Minho smiles, rubbing circles on your legs. 

You nod, claiming his hand in yours to lace your fingers together. 

He looks between your legs, “You’re a mess,” he drags the back of his finger up your slit, swirling Hyunjins leaking fluids around your own. You shudder with a gasp at the stimulation. 

“Come, let’s go upstairs,” Minho stands and extends his hand to you; he pauses briefly in front of Hyunjin and stares, then caresses his jawline with his thumb, “you did good, impressive. Come on.” 

Minho leads you both into the master bath where he reaches into the walk-in to start a shower. You step close to him and start undoing the buttons of his shirt, looking up at him as he strokes your hair. You continue silently undressing him until the three of you stand totally naked in the middle of your steamy bathroom. 

Minho grabs your chin with his fingertips and draws you into him, his mouth desperate for yours and your lips crash together with urgent moans. In your peripheral you can see Hyunjin step into the shower and rinse himself off, he reaches out and tugs on you and Minho, who barely takes his mouth off you to shuffle into the warm water. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Minho asks in a grunt as he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Wanted to be our needy little slut, so fucking pretty and sweet, getting fucked out by both of us?” he whispers as your back presses against the cold stone of the shower wall. 

You grin like the cheshire cat and nod, “Mmhmm.” 

Minho smiles and shakes his head at you before his lips overtake yours again, and you also feel Hyunjins hands roaming as he puts himself between your back and the wall, his body much warmer and less scratchy than the stone. You can feel Minhos hard erection sliding against your soaked pussy and your breath hitches. Hyunjins wet hands slide around your body and he fingers at your nipples, stroking and squeezing. Minho leans in and you watch through the steam as he takes Hyunjins mouth with his own, his cock rubbing against your clit as he positions himself to fuck you against Hyunjin. 

This exceeds even your highest expectation of what this experience would be like. Feeling Minho bouncing you on his cock while you listen to the two of them moan into each others mouths, Hyunjins fingers circling your clit gently while the other hand takes turns playing with your breasts and yanking your hair to tilt your head back for neck kisses. 

“Fuck,” you whine, the impossible ache inside you is building again, you can’t remember the last time you orgasmed three times in one evening, or if you ever have, but you’re going to. 

“Gonna cum for me Love?” Minho presses his forehead against yours, breathless, pumping his hips up into you. 

“Yes,” you half laugh in delirium, “Fuck, yes keep going…” 

You can feel his fingertips digging into the sides of your ass, feel how desperate he is to finish, you lean your head forward to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting as you reach your high. Your orgasm comes out in a choked gasp, your body completely spent, and you feel him pull out a bit and spill himself all over your cunt. 

Hyunjin washes you off while Minho catches his breath then the three of you, unbothered to put on clothes or even dry off, collapse on your bed, drops of water everywhere but no one caring. 

You’re not surprised that Minho pulls you in immediately, wrapping his arm around you tight - possessive. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you sigh, eyes already shut and sleep getting closer and closer to overtaking you. 

“Pleasure isn’t a bad thing people,” Hyunjin yawns, switches off the lamp, then flips to his side to properly sandwich you in. His long, lean arm draped over you while his fingers massage circles on Minhos shoulder. “It’s not this thing that has to be confined in a specific little box, used for one specific purpose at a time like it isn’t supposed to just be this fun, enjoyable thing-,” 

“Hyunjin?” Minho grumbles with closed eyes. 

“Yes boss?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep.” 

“Yes boss,” he laughs.

Endnotes:

I think I'm going to try to tag my taglist besties in the comments this time and see how that goes and where it takes us.

As usual, if you've made it far enough to read this, here's your virtual smooch <3

[sapphire-writes]

Running On Sunshine (hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 3 || masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: You haven't spoken to Aemond. Tensions rise between the two of you and come to a head at the arrival of a disruptive patient.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: NSFW mdni medical terminology, use of needles, discussion around addiction (specifically alcohol, rehab, recovery), fighting, blood, punching, explicit sex (p in v) fingering, oral (fem receiving), creampie, praise, dirty talk, spanking, language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: here it is! long-awaited, thank you for being so patient as my brain jumps around 😂 hope you enjoy it!!

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

It’s been a few days since your ultimatum with Aemond. 

No texts. 

No calls. 

You pass each other in the halls and avoid eye contact, brushing past him close enough that if you extended your little finger you’d be sure to brush against the back of his hand.

You weren’t going to chase him. 

You’d told him what you wanted. Told him you’d wanted him. And he had stayed silent. If that was the end of you and him, so be it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing you inside. Watching him day in and day out walking through the halls of Citadel General in those stupid blue scrubs that he somehow wore like he was strutting down a runway not the hallway of a hospital. 

It didn’t help that observations often included surgeries he was a part of. Aemond was a model resident, often asked to assist the attendants. And he was hard to miss, always wearing his signature scrub cap with little dragons peppered all over it, mid-flight. You’d catch him glancing up at the viewing gallery, peering up over his mask every now and then. You never caught his eye, he was much too quick for that. 

“Switch with me,” you’d begged that afternoon after Baratheon had informed you of the plan to observe Dr. Cole’s surgery. There was no way Aemond wouldn't be there, Dr. Cole had chosen him as an obvious favorite. 

You’d been catching up on notes with Cory for the past ten minutes, the pair of you both trying to shove food in your mouths before your pagers inevitably went off. 

Labs. Observation. Notes. Scut work.

The never-ending revolving schedule of your internship. 

Cory reaches into her bag of salt and vinegar chips, clicking her mouse furiously, her brows pinched together in concentration. 

“I can’t,” she says through a mouthful, “Besides, you’ve already done this lab. If I don’t get these hours by the end of the week I’m about to take Jace’s place as Baratheon’s least favorite.”

You groan in frustration, letting your head rest against the keyboard of your computer. Nettles pops her head into the room, frowning at you both, “What’s wrong with her?”

Cory shrugs and you turn your head to face Nettles. 

Beep beep!

Cory groans, checking her pager, “Shit, I gotta go,” she says, crushing her chip bag and logging out of the computer before heading out of the room, “Sorry again, Y/N!”

You mumble something along the lines of don’t worry about it just as she disappears from sight. Nettles raises her eyebrows.

“McDreamy?” she asks, and you continue to pout, “Damn. Dick is so good we should change his name to McDick.”

“You suck,” you tell her, but you can’t stop your smile, “Definitely not your best work.”

“McOrgasm? I’m still thinking of one that truly encompasses the distress he’s causing you. Dr. Cum?” she makes a face, “Okay ew. Definitely not Dr. Cum.”

You groan, putting your face in your hands, “What am I going to do?”

Nettles walks towards you, slapping the back of your head. You lift your head, mouth open in shock, palming the place she slapped.

“Hey! I was recently concussed!”

“And apparently it scrambled your brains more than we thought!” she snaps, “See what you’re not going to do is spend your days moping over Dr. Sexy. I don’t care how good his dick was. You are a doctor. You are an insanely smart woman and you are in your internship.”

Nettles lowers herself to your height, taking your hands in hers. 

“He is very dreamy,” she says, her brown eyes empathetic, “But this is your time to shine. Not his. He’s not this important.”

It hurts---gods does it hurt---but she’s right. And you know it. You’ve been through situations like this before. You’ve gotten through things like this, and worse. Smiling at Nettles you squeeze her hands.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm,” she says, smiling, “Always here for a reality check. You’re the sun, babe.”

You smile back at her, “I’m the sun.”

“Damn right,” she says, chuckling, “How’s Cece doing?”

“She was discharged this morning,” you tell her, beaming with pride, “Just finished her last round of antibiotics and her labs are clear. I’m working on her note now.”

Nettles plops down in Cory’s seat, reaching into the chip bag she left behind. Her hand comes out empty and she frowns. 

Jace opens the door, looking rather sweaty and discombobulated. He’s been running around the most, trying to get on Barartheon’s good side. 

“Hey,” he says, out of breath, “Can you guys help me in the pit?”

“No can do,” Nettles says, “We’ve got observation soon.”

You nod agreeing, but become curious noticing Jace’s panicked expression.

“Why what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just…five minutes,” Jace says, “Please, I need someone. And I can’t find Sara and Cory--I just need someone, please.”

You turn to Nettles.

“The pit?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you, “Really?”

“Tell Baratheon I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her, “Besides, maybe it’s a good case.”

“Girl,” Nettles says, sighing and shaking her head.

“I just really need your help,” Jace says, leading you through the emergency room, weaving between nurses and patients, “It’s just that…I mean I didn’t know the other day but now…”

“Didn’t know what?” you ask as he stops outside a curtain.

“-- he’s back again and family members--,” Jace says, brown eyes wide, “We’re not supposed to work on family members.”

Your eyebrows concave together in confusion when suddenly the curtain pulls back. A man is lying in the hospital bed, a halo of platinum hair cascading onto the pillow he lays on. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, a lazy grin appearing on his face as he gives you a once-over.

“Nephew,” he sing-songs, giggling, “You brought me a present!”

Jace sighs, pulling the curtain from his grasp. Wait a minute. Nephew? Your eyes scan the giggling man as Jace snaps something at him. The silvery hair, the violet eyes. Seven hells.

How many Targaryens are there?

“Excuse me?”

“He’s kidding,” Jace says, forcing a smile and turning to his uncle, “You’re kidding.”

His uncle shakes his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “I’ve never told a joke in my life. She’s pretty Jacey, well done.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, at the way his eyes cascade down your body. You’ve never felt more exposed in simple scrubs. 

“Stop calling me that,” Jace snaps, cheeks reddening.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Jacey boy,” he croons, “Thought Baela had taken your balls when she dumped your ass--”

“Funnier every time I see you, Aegon,” Jace interrupts, closing the curtain once more. 

Aegon’s mouth drops open in surprise before he’s hidden from sight. You raise an eyebrow at Jace, folding your arms across your chest. 

“He’s harmless,” Jace assures you, “Please, please just help get him out of here as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s sort of difficult when we don’t know what’s wrong--”

“I know what’s wrong.”

You frown, raising an eyebrow at him, “You know?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking drunk. He’s always drunk. Just give him a banana bag, let him sober up, and get him out of here,” Jace instructs.

“How do you know he’s drunk?”

“Considering the fact he hasn’t been sober since I was eight years old, it’s not hard to guess,” Jace tells you, “He’s been to more rehab programs than I can count. Trust me on this.”

“I’m still going to have to do some labs,” you tell him, not willing to go against protocol.

“That’s fine, do what you have to do just…keep him out of the way,” Jace pleads, eyes widening as though he’d just remembered something very important, “And don’t let Aemond know he’s here.”

Your gut tightens at the mention of Aemond.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t. It’s better for everyone if no one knows Aegon is here,” Jace finishes, “Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah you do,” you confirm, and then Jace hurries out of sight, eager to escape the pit.

The curtain opens once more and you turn, meeting the curious gaze of Aegon Targaryen. You try to stop the scowl that threatens to overtake your face as he grins widely, a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Ow!”

“Will you hold still!”

“You’re killing me!”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“It hurts!”

“It won’t hurt if you stay still, Aegon!”

Aegon throws his opposite arm over his eyes as you attempt to find a vein for the third time. He’s too squirmy, too anxious that as soon as the needle pierces his ivory skin he’s flinching away and howling. 

“I’ve seen children do better than you,” you grumble, and he gasps in feigned shock.

“They let you torture children?”

“Hush!” you insist, and to your relief, he’s able to stay still as you start the IV, “There you go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Aegon peaks over his arm, glancing down at the tubes as you assemble them properly, making sure the drip is even. He frowns as you release the tourniquet. 

“I bruise like a peach,” he mumbles.

“Sounds like you need more iron in your diet,” you tell him, walking to the other side of his bed. You need to take his blood pressure and begin wrapping the band around his arm. 

“Can I have something for the pain?” he asks.

“No, you may not.”

“Not even Tylenol?”

“No.”

“Hells,” he mumbles, “You should know, I enjoy it when women are mean to me, it turns it on.”

“Of course it does.”

“Mhmm. I eat that shit up.”

You’ve been trying not to look at his face for too long. If you look at Aegon, you’ll start thinking about Aemond. 

You’ve been trying very hard not to think about Aemond.

They don’t really look alike, despite the matching hair and eye color. Though he’s sitting down you can tell Aegon has none of Aemond’s height. He’s soft whereas Aemond is sharp. Their mouths may be the most similar thing about them, both awarded beautifully pouty lips made to be kissed. 

“What’s on your mind, doc?” Aegon says, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying, I’m very perceptive,” Aegon insists, “Come on tell me. What is it? Doctor drama? Boyfriend drama?” Your face must give something away when he asks, because his eyes light up, “Boyfriend drama.”

It’s no use, you can feel your face heating up, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck off.”

Your head snaps up at him, and you remove the blood pressure sleeve. Discarding it in favor of your stethoscope you place the end against his chest.

“Breathe in.”

“D’you have a girlfriend then?” he relentlessly continues.

“No.”

“A fuck buddy?”

“Hells,” you mumble in frustration, trying to listen to his heartbeat. 

“Please tell me it isn’t my nephew,” Aegon says, making a face.

“What?” you answer, far too quickly, “No! Seven hells, Jace and I are friends! And I do not sleep with colleagues.”

“Everyone sleeps with colleagues,” Aegon argues, “How else do you meet people?”

“That working well for you?”

“Oh I don’t work,” he answers, “That’s boring.”

You choke back a laugh. The man truly is ridiculous.

“Alright then. Well, you’re all set once you’re done with your fluids we’ll check your vitals again and send you on your way,” you tell him, making a note in his chart, “I can have the nurses reach out to some detox programs if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, I understand a bit of your history from what Jace shared. But you should know, recovery isn’t linear, and relapse is completely normal-”

“I haven’t relapsed.”

You blink. 

“Your BAC was 1.06,” you inform him, “That’s more than a little buzzed.”

“I haven’t had a drink since Nyra birthed her last gremlin,” he insists, not elaborating on who Nyra was, “I’m just like this.”

Your eyebrows knit together. He could be lying, you know that. Addiction is one hell of a disease. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring into his violet eyes. 

“Your blood--”

“Fuck the labs,” he groans, “They always come back like that. I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t drank anything. Believe me, I’d be much more obvious.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, a pretty little thing like you wouldn’t be so far away,” he comments, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, “I don’t know why this happens. I think my body got so used to being fucked up, it just does it on its own now.”

“You’re being serious,” you comment, and he nods.

It goes against everything you’ve learned in med school, and in residency thus far. Your pager beeps and you glance at it. It’s Nettles. You’re supposed to be joining her soon. 

When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras. 

You chew your bottom lip. Aegon raises a brow, already looking better with the intake of fluids. 

Fuck it. 

You quickly page Nettles, and let her know you’re needed longer in the pit. Hopefully, Baratheon doesn’t kill you for this. 

We’re going with the zebras. 

“Okay so I’m going to send the sample to the lab and see what comes back,” you inform Aegon, “And if you’re being honest with me, we should have some answers for you.”

Aegon swings his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Why would I lie?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you’re sure if you do in his presence once more they’ll fall out of your skull. He gives you a cheeky grin as he notices your exasperation. 

“People lie all the time,” you tell him.

“To you?” Aegon asks, snatching your hand is his, “Never, princess.”

You hear Nettles suddenly, her voice flowing through the ER and your stomach turns. Surely, it's Dr. Baratheon coming to reprimand you for missing observation to spend time in the pit ‘trolling for surgeries.’ The curtain opens then, and to your horror, it’s Aemond who has discovered you rather than Dr. Baratheon. 

His eyes fall to your face first before he turns to Aegon. His gaze drops to your interlocked hands. Something washes over him, his expression cold and calculating. 

“Out,” he says, voice quiet as death. 

Aegon chuckles, but you can hear the nervousness he’s trying to hide. You can see it in the way he wets his lips, the way he pulls his hand from yours.

“Bro…”

“Out, now,” Aemond repeats, “Don’t make me drag you out in front of all these people.”

“Careful now,” Aegon says, standing, “you know how mummy feels about you getting your hands dirty--”

Aemond steps forward, hands fisting Aegon’s shirt and dragging him forward. Your eyes widen in shock and Nettles yelps as Aemond pushes past her, dragging Aegon with him. 

The display has gathered the attention of several nurses and patients as Aemond continues to drag him through the ambulance entrance and out the automatic doors. You and Nettles remain closely on their heels as they exit the hospital.

Aemond releases his hold, sending Aegon stumbling into the road. 

“Seven hells!” Nettles says, a shocked expression on her face. 

Aegon laughs maniacally, bending over with his hands on his knees. He shakes his head several times, like a dog before looking up.

“Go home,” Aemond says, flexing his hand.

“Where’s that?”

“Wherever you’ve been staying I suppose,” Aemond quips.

Aegon is panting, staring at his brother.

“I’d like to see Helaena.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Helaena!” he yells at the sky, “She’s my sister, I know she wants to see me.”

“You’re not shaking her down for any more fucking money,” Aemond says, his voice louder this time, making you flinch, “Go home, Aegon.”

Aegon wets his lips, running a hand through his hair. His eyes meet yours. 

“You’ll call me? With the results?” he asks, and Aemond snorts.

“Another STI screening?” Aemond snarks. 

Aegon’s tongue pokes his cheek, an angry smile on his face. 

“Gotta make sure I’m all clear before saddling up with a fit bird,” he taunts, eyes falling on you as he says it, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. 

Aemond lurches forward his hand connecting with Aegon’s cheek. Nettles and you both scream as Aemond jumps back, Aegon spitting a mix of blood and saliva on the ground. He laughs again, smiling with bloody teeth. 

“Get him cleaned up and get him out of here,” Aemond instructs Nettles, before heading back inside and leaving the three of you standing there.

Aegon’s lip is split, along with a cut on his cheekbone. He spits again, wiping his face and nodding at you.

“No boyfriend eh?” he says, grinning. Your face flushes. 

“I wasn’t lying.”

His grin widens.

“One of us is,” he says, referencing your earlier conversation, “Guess we’ll find out who.”

Nettles approaches him, and he winces. She turns to you.

“You should go see if he’s okay,” she says, nodding to the doors. 

You run back inside leaving Nettles and Aegon, your eyes searching for Aemond. Hurrying to the nurses' station, they inform you which direction he took off in. A nervous sweat breaks out on the back of your neck as you hurry down the hallway. You spot him then, taller than everyone else, watching as he ducks into an on-call room. 

Quickening your pace you follow him inside. It’s quiet as you close the door, besides the sound of a noise machine echoing white noise in the dimly lit space. There are two beds in this room; truly the on-call rooms are in such sorry states. Small twin mattresses with paper-thin sheets and pillows that may as well be pieces of foam. 

Aemond sits on the bed to the left, his head resting in his hands. You close the blinds on the door, flipping the sign that says “Both Beds Occupied” along with flicking the lock. You don’t think he’ll want to be disturbed.

“Aemond,” you say softly. He doesn’t move. The knuckles of his right hand are bloody. 

Taking a step closer, you watch his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breaths he’s taking. Anxiety churns in your stomach, and you take a step back, placing your hand on the handle of the door.

“I’ll just leave you--”

“Don’t,” Aemond speaks quietly for the first time, raising his head. His gaze softens, his eyes somewhat glassy. “Please don’t go.”

Your heart starts to race, but you nod, stepping back toward him. Sitting beside him the bed creaks; you cross your ankles and place your hands on the edge of the bed. Aemond rests his chin on his hands, arms propped on his knees. The pair of you sit in silence for several moments. It begins to rain outside, fat droplets of water beating against the window. 

“You should get that looked at,” you finally say, nodding at his hand. 

Aemond merely hums in response, flexing his fingers. 

“Seriously, you’re a surgeon,” you continue, “What are you thinking, throwing punches like that?”

Aemond glances at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers, “He brings out the worst in me.”

“Your brother.”

“Mhmm,” he answers, shaking his hand. It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully. He could have done some serious damage.

“I’m sorry. Jace told me…well I’m just sorry.”

“It’s alright. Someone has to treat him. I’m sorry if he was inappropriate to you.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “We don’t get to choose how patients behave.”

“Aegon can be a lot. Take it from someone who knows him rather well.”

“Noted.”

You sit in silence some more. The sky outside has begun to turn dark as clouds roll in, the sound of thunder audible in the distance. A storm is looming.

“I’ve missed you,” he says so softly you almost don’t catch it.

Your hands dig into the side of the bed, your heart pounding against your ribs making your chest feel painfully tight.

“Don’t-”

“Y/N..”

“Please Aemond,” you cut him off, eyes watery, “Please. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he insists, turning his head toward you, “It’s just…Y/N that day I didn’t give you an answer. And you deserve one. I like you. I like you so much. You’re an incredibly intelligent person, funny, adorable, and…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. 

“And what?”

“And that scares the shit out of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I wasn’t expecting you. When I moved here I just planned on keeping my head down and then….then there was you,” he looked away, his eyes lit up in wonder, “I saw you in that bar, and it was like the sun came out.” 

Your lips part, your stomach flutters pleasantly at his words, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. He glances at you shyly, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

“And then I saw you here and you’re an intern, at the beginning of your residency I just….I mess things up. I don’t want to mess things up for you. Or with you.”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, “Okay.”

“But…I miss you. I miss talking to you, kissing you,” Aemond continues, the top of his cheeks turning pink, matching his ears, “You asked me if I’m in or out. I didn’t answer, and I should have. I’m all in.”

“Aemond…”

“If you’ll have me,” he adds, “If you…if you want to give this a try.”

You smile at him softly.

“It’s all I wanted from the start.”

Aemond smiles, leaning toward you and connecting his lips to yours. You sigh against his mouth, as his hand snakes around the back of your neck, keeping you from going anywhere. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly accepting the warm muscle into your mouth. 

Your hands bury themselves in his scrubs as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. His opposite hand reaches for your waist, sliding down to rest on the meat of your thigh. He rubs soothing circles there for a moment, before gripping you hard and pulling you on top of him. 

You straddle his waist as he scoots backward, pressing his back flat against the wall. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, tugging your blue scrub top over your head, before desperately chasing your lips once more. Shivering in the cool air, your nipples harden in your bra. You almost wish you’d worn something a little sexier, the plain black bra making you feel underdressed. 

Aemond eyes your tits like a madman as his skilled hands eagerly unclasp your bra, pulling it from your torso. 

“Should we be doing this--” you gasp, grinding against the hardness between his thighs. 

“Yes, yes we should,” he says, kissing you once more before pausing, his eyebrows knitting together, “Unless you don’t want..”

“No! I mean--fuck, yes, yes we should and I want to,” you whimper as his teeth graze against your neck, “But I mean, here…” Aemond continues his attention to your neck, his perfect mouth nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“No one’s coming,” he murmurs, “You locked the door, yes?”

You nod, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, groaning as you clench your fists, tugging at his hair.

He catches your lips once more and you arch your back, pressing yourself against him trying to get as close as humanly possible. Moaning against his mouth he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating against you. 

“Shh,” he croons, brushing some hair from your face, “You have to be quiet.” He nips your lower lip as he says it, smoothing his tongue along where he bit, “Something you have trouble with, I recall.”

Your cheeks warm at the memory of your first night together, the puddle he’d turned you into with such little effort. Lashes fluttering, you look up at him as he admires you.

“You’ll have to remind me,” you tease, earning a growl from him as he flips you onto your back beginning to pull your scrub pants from your body.

Eager to assist, you kick wildly trying to get the soft material off. Aemond catches your right calf in his large hand, trying to avoid being kicked.

“Careful,” he chuckles, pressing a hot kiss to your calf, helping you out of your scrubs, shoes, and underwear. 

“Sorry,��� you manage to say through your giggles as he tosses the ball of clothes toward the opposite bed, “We’re a bit uneven now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Grinning, Aemond pulls his scrub top from his body as thunder crashes outside. The sky has darkened considerably and lightning flashes, illuminating the room. Aemond’s hands travel up your calves, hooking against your knees as he cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“Better?”

Your eyes trace down his exposed front following the planes of his chest, the chiseled outline of his abdominal muscles. You swallow, feeling yourself clench as your gaze rests on the outline of his hard bulge.

Nodding, you take your lower lip between your teeth, dragging your gaze back to his face. Aemond’s breathing is heavy as he sits on his haunches, eyes raking down your naked body.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he breathes appreciatively, “Gods…” He lets one hand move up your body, fingers dancing against the skin of your waist, up the side of your ribs to your breast. He explores higher and higher until with a desperate whine you reach up pulling him toward you.

You could kiss him forever.

You want to kiss him forever. 

The hand that rests on your leg curls inward, stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh before inching higher. Your breathing has started to turn to pants as Aemond lets one of his long fingers part through your silky folds, spreading your arousal. 

“Seven hells,” he groans, swirling his finger against your clit, “All this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, biting your lip and trembling against him already.

Aemond only smirks, that familiar look of confidence in his eye, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you tell him, as the tip of his finger sinks inside of you, “Fuck-- just for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, pushing further inside of you, stretching you out on his forefinger. A second finger soon joins and he scissors the digits against your fluttering walls.

You’re trying to be quiet---really you are trying--- but it feels too good. He’s too precise with his movements, too insistent on bullying that sensitive rough patch that causes your eyes to roll back in your head. “Aemond…I can’t--”

“Shhh baby, I know, it feels too good to be quiet, huh?” he says, voice full of mock sympathy, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum really quick, let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod furiously, a choked moan escaping you as Aemond presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Moving away from you, he keeps up his relentless pace with his fingers as he slides onto his stomach on the bed. Your eyes widen as Aemond glances up at you from between your legs, a cheeky smile on his handsome face. 

“Aem----oh fuck!” your concern is short-lived as Aemond presses his mouth against you.

His tongue traces lazy circles over your clit, groaning, “Hells, I missed this sweet little pussy,” he mumbles, taking the sensitive button between his lips and suctioning around it. 

Throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arches, and your mouth opens in a silent scream. The rain continues to pour outside, the drumming against the window matching that of your racing heart. 

“Oh yeah, I know that’s so good, huh?” Aemond mumbles between licks of your clit, his free hand snaking upwards to grope at your breasts, “Fuck you look so pretty…all whiny and desperate.”

He curls his fingers as he says it, massaging the tender spot inside of you causing your pussy to spasm against his fingers. His tongue traces nonsensical patterns around your clit, his lips sucking and releasing causing lewd wet noises to echo through the room.

“Next time,” he murmurs a quiet promise, “Next time, when I’ve got lots of time…we’ll see how long I can keep you like this.” His fingers pinch your right nipple, tweaking it harshly.

Your belly tenses, muscles constricting against his fingers as he returns his sweet torture on your clit, and you finish with a muffled sob as you turn your head, pressing your mouth against your shoulder. Aemond murmurs soft praises, talking you through your orgasm as your legs shake around him. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through your teeth as he slowly pulls his fingers from your fluttering pussy, bringing them to his mouth. 

You watch, wide-eyed as he sucks the lengthy digits, moaning at the taste of you.

“Turn around baby,” he says, sitting up, “Put your face in the pillow.”

Shakily, you turn on your hands and knees, before letting yourself fall to your forearms. Aemond slides his hand down your back, admiring the curve of your spine, spreading your cheeks wide. 

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, slapping your cheeks, causing you to yelp, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re an ass man?” you tease, looking back over your shoulder.

“I’m a ‘you’ man,” he argues, grabbing his length and sliding it against your folds, “Now be a good girl, and let me take care of you.” The fat head of his cock pokes at your entrance.

“Please,” you breathe as he starts to slide in. Aemond pauses, groaning slightly.

“Fuck baby, you can’t say that all sweet right now,” he growls, “We don’t have time.”

“Please, put it in,” you whimper, cheek pressed against the pillow, drool forming a wet patch under your cheek.

Aemond’s hand cracks down on your ass once more, “Be a good girl you little brat.”

You whimper, your begging ceasing as he slides fully inside your tight, wet heat. The stretch of his fingers was nothing compared to his thick cock. Your walls tense around him, pulsating around his thick length as he bottoms out. Rocking backward, he slides nearly all the way out before thrusting back in. 

Electricity bursts through your veins, pleasure crackling through your limbs like the lightning outside of the window. The force of his thrusts sends your face deep into the pillow, muffling the sharp cries of pleasure you emit. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, it feels too fucking good, the head of his cock rubbing ceaselessly against your g-spot as he ruts against you; he’s grunting softly, muttering praises all the while, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as your knees slide down, legs shaking so bad you’re unable to keep them upright, “It’s okay baby, just relax I got you.”

Your legs bend against the mattress, thighs splayed, hip flexors burning with the deep stretch it awards you. Aemond never relents, just continues to slap his hips against the softness of your ass, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out.

“Aemond,” you moan, “Fuck it feels--”

“Yeah?” he groans, “How’s it feel baby?”

“S-s’good, Aem, fuck, it’s so good,” you whimper, hands fisting the sheets, the bed shaking with every harsh thrust. 

The bed grinds against your sensitive nipples and clit sending sparks of pleasure burning through you.

“Gonna make this pussy feel so good,” he says, leaning some of his weight on top of you, his face next to yours, “Gonna take you home after our shifts, you’d like that, yeah?” His arms hold him up, propped on either side of your head. 

“Yes, fuck please,” you agree, turning your face, and feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Gonna have you ride my face,” he promises, dragging his nose between your shoulder blades, “Wanna make that pussy feel so good, till you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Fuck Aemond,” you shiver with delight at his filthy words, at the promise of a repeat of the first night you’d been together. A promise of more. 

“Missed you too much,” he murmurs against your shoulder, sending warmth pooling in your belly, “Need you close to me.”

“I missed you,” you whimper, “Fuck, need you so bad.”

“I’m all yours,” he says, nearly whimpering himself, “Fuck baby, you’re so tight, feel so good clenching around my cock.”

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head slightly, and glancing back through hooded eyes.

Aemond maneuvers himself, leaning to capture your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss as he continues to pound into you. 

“Fuck….c’mon baby, one more time,” Aemond encourages as heat winds a tight coil of pleasure in your belly, “Can’t have my baby only cumming once, now can I? Come on, that’s a good girl.”

The pitch of your cries increases and you slam your face against the pillow to muffle your strangled cry as your whole body tense, pussy constricting like a vice around his cock as you come. It’s intense, it burns with a brutal passion that paints stars behind your eyelids. 

Aemond’s thrusts become sloppier and with a few more slaps of his hips, you feel his cock pulsate inside of you and the warmth release of his cum filling you up. You turn your cheek from the pillow, your body tingling with the remnants of your orgasm as you suck in a breath. Gently, Aemond pulls out of you, peppering kisses down the length of your spine as he does so. 

You hum happily as he slides out, placing his hands under your thighs and maneuvering you out of the frog-like position you were previously in. Your hip flexors ache, but it’s a good pain--well worth being fucked into the mattress. Aemond turns you on your back, brushing some hair from your sweaty forehead. 

“Hey there,” he says softly. The room is quiet, the rain has stopped. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever walk right again,” you tell him with a content sigh, “but that aside, I’d say I’m more than alright.”

Aemond chuckles, thumb smoothing your cheekbone, making you lean into his gentle touch. 

“Hold on,” he murmurs, standing up, walking to the adjacent bathroom, and flicking on the light. 

You watch him walk away, admiring his ass. He’s got a rather nice one. You hear him turn the water on and a moment later he returns with a washcloth. Not trusting yourself to stand, you simply spread your legs and let him clean up the remains of your combined releases. Your hips jerk as he carefully brushes against your swollen clit causing him to release a breathy laugh.

Beep beep!

The noise snaps you both out of your post-coital bliss bubble and you hurry to find your clothes. Aemond reaches for his pager, desperate to get his scrubs on. 

Beep beep!

It’s your pager this time. Shit, Baratheon must be pissed. 

Both of you scramble, switching scrub tops as Aemond accidentally tries to put on yours, causing you to erupt into a fit of laughter that is only stopped when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a heated kiss. 

“Stop, stop,” you beg, pushing against his hard chest, “Shit we have to go.”

“One more--”

“You’re insatiable--”

“Oh I’ll show you insatiable,” he says, lips tugging upwards in a smirk, “You just wait until tonight.”

Your cheeks burn as you yank on your bottoms, fixing your hair. Sex hair is not an option, not when Baratheon will be up in arms about your disappearance. Glancing at your pager, you read what it says before clipping it to your waist. 

“Okay, I gotta go,” you tell him, shoving your feet into your sneakers.

“Meet me in the lobby? When you’re done?” he asks, unable to hide his smile as you walk to the door on trembling legs.

“Okay,” you tell him, leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And we could get dinner?” 

“Anything you want,” he says, cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, “Anything” another kiss, “At” and another one, “all.”

You hum happily, placing your hand over his, your entire body warming with his affection.

“I’ll see you then,” you tell him, unwillingly pulling away and unlocking the door.

You leave first, Aemond leaving a few moments later. Watching as he fixes the collar of his scrubs, you find yourself beaming. Aemond turns, catching your eye before turning down the hall, a small smile playing on his lips.

Gods, this is going to be a long shift.

note: hope you liked it!! LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

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[ivysangel]

…vampire!jason thoughts… you must provide them im desperate…. -🐞

(ik you probably expected #real smut, honestly i did too but this ended up turning into a whole bunch of lore/headcanons/whatever tf. i'm so sorry bae cw: talks of consuming blood)

you ask, you shall receive. i've been thinking about jason and dick as vampires in relation to each other, so this'll be a post about both of them just for the sake of comparisons. also, in my mind, this au takes place during the 19th century because i've conflated vampirism with the victorian era, and it's also no capes in regards to vigilantism bc vampires do love a good cape.

in this victorian era, vampire au dick would be either a nobleman or straight up royalty. he's got status, money, and a pretty face, and he uses them all to his advantage when it comes to feeding. you know in the originals or itwtv when they host an event that's actually a cover for them finding their next meal? yeah, he does that. he flirts with all of the ladies, plays into his charms, and sweeps women off their feet. and at the end of the night (sometimes even mid-ball), he coaxes them upstairs and ravishes them, sometimes in more ways than one.

i think for dick feeding is something he can have fun with, knowing that he holds such a high ranking in society that when bodies of people he's been seen with show up around town, people turn a blind eye. and even when someone does try to investigate, the wayne family checking account talks enough to shut down anything beyond a questioning.

in many pieces of media surrounding vampires, there are people who know about vampires and choose to feed them their blood. there's a bunch of lore that explores the idea that a vampire bite is almost orgasmic and kind of addictive, which is why some people are more than willing to put themselves in harm's way by either being employed by vampires or by straight up just throwing themselves into a vampires line of sight with open wounds.

with that being said, i think dick grayson likes the chase. i think that even if his father (bruce, who is also a vampire in this au because vampire families are just superior) has people on his payroll to provide blood for them, he's going to go out on his own to flirt a bit, get laid, and then have his fill.

which brings me to my next point; while feeding, like sex, is an intimate act, it's far from necessary for dick to need an emotional connection with a person he feeds off of or even a physical one. sex and feeding are related but not totally synonymous, and if he needs to just feed or just get his rocks off, he can. is it preferred? maybe not. i believe he does like the mess that comes with doing both at the same time.

ok so for jason, ugh so obsessed with him as a vampire because i think it's so in line with his canon story. in a lot of vampire lore, to become a vampire, you have to consume the blood of a vampire and either die or be on the brink of death, which is just so. it's so jason dying and being revived by the lazarus pit coded. and even the way he inevitable that he will spill blood post-revival in both this vampire au and his canon storyline…it's almost prophetic.

anyway, jason's approach to vampirism is quite different. i think he struggles with it no matter how long he's been one. he can't fully grasp that he's immortal; he looks in the mirror and sees that he hasn't aged a day and he feels sick. being a vampire for him feels like a curse and he only continues living because he's scared to die (again).

he doesn't stay anywhere too long, typically hopping from town to town in the middle of the night when less people are around. he believes himself to be out of place amongst normal people and he's paranoid that people can smell the iron on his breath when he talks to them so he makes it a point to have minimal interaction with people.

it's crippling, he drives himself mad with the solitude, but i feel like another reason why he continues to stay alive is to spite his creator, whoever that may be. he's most definitely got an agenda, in true jason fashion. i just don't know what it is yet.

he feeds only when he needs to but tries not to let the hunger get too intense because i do feel like when he loses control, he's the stefan salvitore type. a ripper. but he's pretty good about it and is almost polite when he's feeding? like he finds a victim and says i'm sorry before just absolutely tearing into their jugular.

i just really think he grapples with his own mortality, or lack thereof, and how it exists at the expense of others. so he is genuinely ashamed of who he is and what he's become. so, while blood drinking is something he needs to survive, it holds a lot of weight for him, which is why i think drinking blood and sex are pretty equal for him when it comes to intimacy level.

that brings me to my MAIN point (which isn't really a main point because it's being reduced to a small paragraph at the end of this post), all of that was background for this, eek. the act of drinking blood during sex is so. big. for him, it's eye-opening, life-changing. the amount of trust required on both ends for this to happen…at that point, it's basically end game for you two. and it's so funny because that's just a normal tuesday for dick.

anyway, i do have more thoughts and more lore, but this got really long, so i'll cut it off here

[smuttysabina]

The Temptations of The Night

(Jiu x Male Reader, 3k Words) Tags: Back With More Vampiric Sex, You Get Drained, Literally, Well At Least A Part Of You Does, Vaginal Contortions, Acrobatic Positions, Unnatural Pussy Magics, An Addiction To That Sweet Vampussy, Blood Magic, Magnificent Blowjobs, Deep Throating, Wholesome Cuddling

Part 1 Here

No lamb had ever gone more willingly to the slaughter. You pause at her door, arm upraised, trembling from a sordid mixture of fear and arousal; desperate to simply turn around and leave, but unable to resist the temptation to give into your lust. She had not left your mind this past month, visions of her lithe body had frolicked through your mind, you had been unable to concentrate on anything else. So now you were back, even though you really should not be, about to take another step along a path you should not have gone down to begin with. But you were merely mortal and her hold upon your soul was unbreakable, so you knock confidently, as if you had not been standing stone-still for five minutes as your mind roiled with deliberations. You need not wait long to consider your damnation however, for immediately the door swings open, banishing your apprehensions. A kindly goddess dowered in black lace smiles in satisfaction, extending a dainty hand in invitation,

"Welcome back, my dear," Jiu murmurs, "I am pleased by your return. Please, come inside, for the night is cold..."

The familiar darkness swallows you as you step beneath her doorway, the door swinging silently shut as Jiu embraces you in her cool arms. Her mouth slightly opens, as she tilts her head up into a kiss, her icy soft lips pressing against yours hungrily. You let out a moan of desire, passionately returning the kiss as you hold her wiry body tight against you; your hands caressing her back. Your tongues intertwine, sliding across one another as you breathe heavily; so lost in the sensation are you that you barely notice your lips being slightly scratched, as if with twin razors. Jiu pulls out of the kiss, eyes gleaming in the faint light, her lower lip trisected by her two long, narrow fangs, "My, such... ardor. I see that you missed me," she glances down playfully, "I am looking forward to tasting you once more..." Jiu gently leads you deeper into her flat, flambeaux humming to life in consideration of your inferior night-vision, depositing you in a worn black leather armchair. She smoothly pulls its pair in front of yours, languidly reclining in it as she watches you drink in the sight of her once more. After all, it was not every night that you got to make love to a vampire.

Jiu seems to be in a mischievous mood, her small talk deliberately ignoring sexual subjects, while a delicate foot probes at your crotch. Her eyelids crease in amusement, as your voice catches, your hips unintentionally humping her foot as it presses against your manhood. Her eyes bore into yours as your member starts to throb after only minutes of this treatment, you had yet to even remove your pants and she was already on the cusp of draining you. The candlelight flickers amorously across her pale skin as she suddenly removes her foot; she idly bites her thumb as you watch, breathless and heaving. Jiu leans forwards reaching out to cup your cheek before sliding down to your neck, then her thumb flashes along it, drawing a line of blood. You blink, and move to touch the spot, before slowly realizing that your arms are not obeying you; nor for that matter, is much else. She touches a delicate finger to your lips as she soothes you, "Worry not my dear, simply a little... help," she smirks, blandly unzipping your pants as she explains, "I noticed you were quite aroused by my nature; the unnatural, it excites you does it not?" Jiu's fangs slide to full length in emphasis, and she elegantly positions herself between your frozen legs. You shiver as she brushes her teeth against your tip, which promptly leaks precum in response; Jiu lets out a surprisingly girlish giggle, "I think... Perhaps I shall drink you dry tonight..." her voice hisses up at you, sending a shudder of erotic fear through you.

You moan plaintively as Jiu's head bobs between your legs, slurping and sucking upon your frozen member; unable to move enough to produce semen, your poor cock simply drips what little fluid it can. You are still able to feel sensation however, and so you are forced to endure a seemingly endless procession of orgasms. Your muscles locked together, you are completely vulnerable to the temptress, she could drain your blood whenever she pleased, and you would be entirely unable to stop her. The prospect sends an icy thrill through you, your body reacting to the danger by pumping you full of more and more hormones; eager to dump your semen before you pass. When the waves of pleasure assaulting your mind have grown almost unbearable, Jiu lazily raises her hand in front of your blurred vision, and snaps. The dam breaks, your seed exploding from your manhood into her mouth, Jiu digging in at the base of your cock to hold on as your hips buck and spasm wildly. Her throat bobs steadily as she swallows the long ropes of semen spewing down her throat, calmly riding out the storm as your orgasm lasts several minutes. Only after your thunderous climax does she unlatch from your crotch, fangs leaving faint pinpricks behind in your flesh. She idly wipes away the spittle staining her chin, "My, you have been saving up, haven't you?"

Jiu fetches some water and a blanket for you, curling up against you before shrouding the both of you in warm fuzz. She affectionately scratches your neck, seemingly amused at your exhausted state, "I had anticipated that you would enjoy restraint, but to such a degree? Such deviancy..." A charge you can hardly deny, especially not to the woman whose stomach you had just emptied a vast quantity of semen into. Luckily, said lady appeared quite content to simply cuddle with you while you recovered from your strenuous exertion; though she had done an excellent job in removing your clothes without much of a hassle. Your strength gradually returns, and soon you're attention is occupied by the cool body of Jiu snuggled up against your own. You start to touch and stroke her lithe body, causing her eyes to crinkle in amusement, as she allows you to feel her up; though she does stop you from trying to remove her outfit, "Not yet, my dear, you will enjoy it more with me clothed." Whatever it was, you were not exactly sure, but you are eager to find out. Soon you are kissing once more, her clothed form pressing up against yours as her hand daintily works your manhood until it is once more rigidly saluting her. Your unnaturally swift recovery was no doubt aided by Jiu's subtle nibbles as your tongues wrestle, the aphrodisiac in her fangs granting fresh vigor to your already mauled member.

Jiu stands, pulling you up with her, causing the blanket to pool around your feet, your cock pushing needily against the fabric covering her crotch, desperate to get inside. She pulls out of your embrace to smile, evidently pleased by your blatant lust, "My, so vigorous, it is endearing. You will appreciate this then..." Jiu gets onto her tiptoes, then leans back into the air, further than she should be able to support, pulling her legs up with her so that it is as if she is resting upon an invisible table. The long tail of her outfit forms a black waterfall, seemingly sourced from her now vulnerable loins, the fabric of her bodysuit pulling tightly against the lips of her sex. She looks up at you, lips parted in good humor, and subtly wiggles her hips in invitation, urging you onwards. You grunt like a rutting boar, as you shove your cock against the thin cloth protecting her entrance, careless in your need to fill Jiu; until the material strains enough to allow your tip to slightly penetrate her. Jiu raises an eyebrow in delicate mockery, and looks to be about to tease you when the fabric finally tears and your manhood plunges inside of her. She lets out a soft gasp, which is entirely drowned out by your own animalist groans, as the tepid folds of her pussy engulf your cock once more. Her eyes seem to flash in the candlelight, "Mmm, I shudder to think the pounding I would endure had I beguiled you properly, we would be here all night I would think!" The drumbeat of your sexes slamming together seems to indicate your agreement, and she lets out another curiously innocent giggle. Then she starts to stretch, arching her back further and further until her midnight hair kisses the carpet, an acrobatic feat that causes her pussy to curve in an addicting manner. Now you can see the bulge your manhood is making in her taut stomach, even through her outfit. as it strains mightily to force Jiu's sex back into shape but inevitably fails to do so. A failure which does not bother your now drooling cock in the least, as waves of pleasure pulse through it from exotic angle it is now enjoying. When your orgasm finally peaks, you shudder and convulse, holding onto Jiu's rigid hips for support as you unload your warmth into the lukewarm confines of her unliving sex. When it is finished, she leans back up, touching her groin fondly as she chuckles, "Did you save up for several weeks? Had my womb been fertile then you would have quickened me!"

The vampire sighs, idly playing with the loose ends of her bodysuit, "And you tore my outfit, which was arousing, yet still." Placing a hand on your still heaving stomach she lightly pushes you backwards, causing your manhood to flop out of her; but not a drop of semen follows it. Jiu swings her legs back down so that she can stand, no longer ignoring the feeble demands of gravity. A smile quirks her lips as she notices you once again touching her sides, "I see you still require attention, let us deal with that issue in my chambers, yes?" Obviously not trusting you to not to attempt to mount her on the way there, Jiu once again freezes you with a swipe of blood across your chest. Humming quietly, she then levitates you and leads you into her bedroom, waving a hand to snuff out the lights as she goes. Now entirely shrouded in darkness, you can perceive little until you are gently lowered to the floor, mobile once more, but still only able to make out a faint pale blur in front of you. Then the curtains are thrown back, and the light of the gibbous moon floods into the darkly paneled room; adorning the pallid goddess in a familiar scene of deja vu. But unlike last time, you are no longer hesitant, and nor is Jiu acting particularly demure as she shed her outfit without much fuss. Now the lunar glow caresses her tight curves, anointing her perky breasts and making her milky nipples conspicuous with their darker tone. Her lower lips glisten wetly, and you feel your member stir fitfully at the sight, but is unable to react properly to the lust filling you. Jiu's eyes narrow kindly, and she acts swiftly to fix the problem; leaning in, she bites your neck, fangs digging in to extract what lies beneath. Your breath catches as Jiu languidly drinks your blood, your jugular pulsing as she taps into it; is this it then? But she does not finish you, stopping quite short, and as she licks the wound closed you do not feel much diminished in strength. Seductively touching a finger to her tongue, she dips it in the blood still pooling upon it before swiping it across your shriveled member and ordering it to rise.

Now with blood surging through your manhood once more, it bulges obscenely, forced upright by Jiu's fell charm. Her stomach now has some color to it, which lightly spreads up to her face, before it vanishes and pools down towards her crotch. She smiles in satisfaction before elegantly climbing onto the bed, arching her back, she raises her pallid ass in the air and looks back at you teasingly, "Well, slake yourself, you beast." Jiu's butt sways indulgently in the moonlight as you clamber onto the bed after her, and upon spreading her perky cheeks you recklessly shove yourself inside of her. You gasp in surprise at the heat suffusing her pussy, no longer was it cold and clammy, now it was burning hot and sopping wet. Jiu herself seems a touch affected by it as well, moaning softly as your cock pummels her insides rapaciously. You plow Jiu mercilessly, subconsciously knowing that she would be able to stop you with ease should you overstep yourself, you treat her not like some gracefully courtesan but instead like a cheap fucktoy. The lady in question if anything seems bemused by your vigorous coupling, and is content to let you drain your lusts into her before she drains you. The force of your thrusts are so great you unmount her several times, you cock slurping out of the warm confines of her body, and slamming against her tightly clenched asshole before sliding upwards into her crack. Jiu chuckles when you do this, tutting with mirth, "It will not go in you know, it has not opened in quite a while..." By the time she has finished gently scolding you however, you were already forcing yourself back inside of her pliant hole.

Your first orgasm leaves you breathless, Jiu's unnaturally stimulating pussy too intoxicating for your body to resist any longer, you howl as your seed surges into her, flooding her with gooey ropes that soak into her folds. But the flame of lust within you remains undimmed, as you use your weight to force the lady's hips down into the sheets. Jiu lets out a dignified huff as you press her prone, allowing her legs to open to allow you greater freedom of movement; which you require. Your thrusts are long and deep, mechanically slamming down into her sex as your cock instinctively urges you to breed her once more. Your balls slap wetly against her clitoris, now your entire body is lathered in sweat from your exertions, adrenaline spiking to provide you with enough energy to complete your primal mission. You bury your face in Jiu's nape, nipping and gnawing at her cold flesh even as you savor the salty taste of it; her bun tickling your forehead. Jiu lets out a pleased noise from your ferocious ardor, her pussy tightening in time with your movements, stroking you greedily. You kiss her hair as you climax once more, breathing deep the scent of her perfume as you dispense thick curdles of semen into her once more. You collapse onto Jiu, chest heaving with exhaustion, but your manhood still remains painfully erect within her.

You stagger upright, swaying precariously as you glance down at your sore member throbs unnaturally, retaining its stiffness in defiance of nature. You start as Jiu playfully bumps her now pleasantly rosy rear against your sensitive cock, giggling demurely as precum froths at its tip. She evidently has noted your tired state however, as she graciously comforts you, "Allow me to lead this dance, relax..." Her fingers gently lower you back towards her entrance, and she mounts you with a sigh of satisfaction. Your legs quiver as aching pleasure shoots up through your shaft, it is all you can do to remain standing on your knees. Indulgently, not even pausing in her lethargic movements, Jiu's finger stitches the air, and you suddenly feel yourself being firmly supported. She smiles mischievously up at you, "Now then, hold on dear." With that brief warning whispering in your ears, Jiu truly starts to move. Her hips slither skillfully up and down your length, bucking and writhing unnaturally as her pussy bends around your cock in new and exotic ways. Tirelessly, she fucks you, riding you expertly, keyed into your every twitch and shiver until she has devised the precise routine necessary to bring you to a swift climax. Then Jiu repeats that pattern ceaselessly, gratifying your manhood in ways you had no idea even existed; her folds pressing against your most sensitive points mercilessly. You squirm, feeling your depleted balls rise up for one last heroic effort, helped along by some unseen force. You are almost sobbing as your final loads sputters into Jiu, leaking the dregs of your testicles into her gluttonous pussy, even as she continues to fuck you relentlessly. Only when your groans turn to whimpers does she halt, smoothly dismounting you and dismissing whatever magics that forced you erect, allowing your meat to shrivel gratefully.

Jiu's eyes shimmer in the moonlight as she tenderly lowers you onto the soft sheets, nestling against your side as she lazily levitates refreshments and a now-familiar fuzzy blanket towards the bed. "My, I feel... bloated, my womb sloshes with every breath. I almost feel too full to feed... almost." You do not even have the strength to look at her, let alone resist as Jiu nuzzles against your neck and digs her fangs into your flesh. You moan plaintively as the twin needles fill you with numbing bliss, the lady going untroubled as she feeds upon your vitae. She finishes her meal sooner than the last tryst however, stopping short of leaving you senseless; her tongue gently lapping your wound close. Jiu idly caresses your sweat-covered chest, "After such a... passionate joining, perhaps some rest is in order?" She benevolently assists you in draining your water glass, before curling back up against you, her body now vaguely lukewarm to the touch, "Sleep my dear, you have satisfied me this night..." And you obey, feeling supremely pleased by her praise...

You awaken to find the thick curtains drawn tight, the room filled with abyssal darkness, a cool pressure coiled across your body. You shift slightly, causing the weight to stir, before cuddling more deeply; murmuring incoherently. You reach a throbbing arm up to explore the person atop you, before remembering where you were, in her lair; causing you to pause with your hand clenching her posterior. The lady of the night sighs, "Oh don't stop, I know you mortals are particularly... invigorated come the dawn." Judging by the pulsating sensation coming from your crotch, your member is much inclined to agree with her; even after the thrashing it had received that evening. Jiu's finger slides across your shaft, bringing if fully awake as she maneuvers herself in the lightless void. You feel something soft and wet touch your tip, as the blanket coils down onto your chest, "Allow me, this will not take long, will it?"

Jiu was entirely correct.

[yeeterthek33per]

Kidding? (Glódís Viggósdóttir x Reader)

A/n I was inspired by recent events. Also, yes, I am still writing, I promise. Apologies that this one is a little short.

Warnings: google translated Íslenska, a little more than suggestive.

----

It seemed too easy.

Three weeks early, and the league was yours.

The title belonged to Bayern.

You knew it was much less easy than that, of course.

The time, the preparation, the training.

Every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

But still.

It was like you blinked, and the season was coming to an end, and the silver plate in your captain's hands, glittering in the midday sun, belonged to your team.

Speaking of said captain.

You can't help the way your chest fills with pride and love at the sight of the bouncing, overjoyed, Icelandic woman.

The screams of yourself and your teammates drowned out by just the sight of her this happy and carefree.

Don't get yourself wrong.

She was as relaxed as captains could be, but it was nice seeing the weight of a whole season lift off her shoulders.

The pressure of perfection is finally released as the team clinches its second title in a row.

And your heart beats faster when she looks over to you across the bouncing huddle.

The chants of

"SUPER BAYERN SUPER BAYERN!"

Just filling you with immense pride for the woman across from you.

She approaches you as the group disperses slightly, a pep in her step and a leap into your arms as she holds your face, grin wide and bright, your hands settling under her thighs to hold her up.

"Elskan mín" (My love)

You hum, her tone soft as she presses her forehead to yours.

"Ég er svo stolt af þér." (I am so proud of you)

Her nose brushes yours as a light dusting of pink cross her face.

"You've been practising?"

"Smá" (A little)

"Guð ég elska þig." (God, I love you.)

She groans softly as she drops down from your grip, hands gripping your shoulders as she looks slightly up at you, a small peck to your cheek and she drags you over to the now forming line in front of the away section in the Bayer Leverkusen stadium.

After that, everything happens all at once.

Team photos, media duties, everyone's got a phone recording or posting, media outlets are interviewing your girlfriend and the two goal scorers for the day, swapping between camera crews seamlessly.

You're dragged into several videos and tiktoks, jumped on, beer dumped on you, occasionally receiving a smile from the strawberry blonde you call yours, in the small moments of quiet.

When you're finally settled, it's in your seat on the flight back to Munich.

Everything on the bus is chaotic, so there's no time to really process anything by the time you've been ushered onto the plane to return to Munich in time for recovery the next day.

The exhaustion is set in quick, and you're all whisked away back home once again, nearly the whole team knocking out on the flight, which surprises you given a certain someone's red bull addiction and just the overall excitement of winning the league.

The alcohol is still flowing through all of you.

The alcohol that will still be there when you arrive home and inevitably get dragged out to clubs and parties, even with the looming DFB Pokal Final.

And such happens.

You barely get time to shower and change before you've got Georgia and Sarah banging on your front door yelling at you and Glódís to hurry up.

Much to the bemusement of your captain, who'd been occupied with her back pressed to the glass wall of the shower.

All of that, to end up here, sat back, leant against a bartop, watching as Glódís dances with your teammates, the care-free air flowling freely around her.

You'd stepped away to grab another drink and a small break from the constant dancing and jumping around you'd been doing for the past twenty-four hours.

Turning back to the bar, you take a couple long swigs of your drink.

After another minute or so of just watching the passers-by in the club, you feel an arm around your shoulders, hands caressing your shoulders.

Tensing up, but then recognising the voice pressed to your ear, you're met with deep brown eyes and a very tipsy loving smile.

"Halló!"

You chuckle softly at the Nordic woman, arm wrapping around her waist as she leans on you for support.

"Hi, my love, how are you?"

Asking with an amused tone, only just feeling the buzz of the latest batch of alcohol pumping through you as it seems to have hit your girlfriend much quicker.

"I feel amazing!"

She all but shouts in your ear, and you wince slightly, even with the thumping bass in the crowded room.

"I see that!"

She hums, settling her nose into the crook of your neck for a moment, and presses a few small kisses there.

She then tugs you towards the dance floor.

"Come dance with me!"

Downing the rest of your drink, you set the glass down swiftly and let the older woman drag you off.

You watch for a moment, taking in the woman before you, moving and swaying already before you're even fully engrained into the large crowd of your dancing teammates.

She immediately pulls you in as close as possible, body pressed right to yours, hands settling on the nape of your neck, and you lean down to let your head rest on her shoulder as your body moves in time with hers.

Her fingers tangle in the loose hair at the back of your neck, nails gently scratching at your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

It continues like that before she's leaning in to kiss you, her lips smashed against yours roughly and a little sloppily.

You chuckle, slowing her down a little with hands on her cheeks, kissing her for a moment longer, though she does pout as you pull away amused.

"Slow down, baby, we've got all night."

She groans before you finally let her kiss you again.

This time, it's slower, and she relaxes into your hold, which shifts to holding her hips, pulling her into you further if possible.

It's when you prod at her lips with your tongue that she grows impatient again, your teeth taking her lower lip to nip at it lightly.

She all but drags you from the club at that, much to the amusement of your teammates as you give them loud goodbyes over the music.

----

It doesn't surprise you that she's conked out the moment you're both laying under the sheets, sweat sheened and heart racing.

Her head's buried in under your chin, resting on your chest, arm thrown over your waist, and soft puffs of air getting released into your neck.

The past two days just come whirling through you all at once.

The anticipation, the win, the celebrations, the exhaustion, the continued celebrations, the fact that you got drowned in so much beer at some point, you're pretty sure you gave someone contact innebriation.

It's all a lot to go over, and knowing you still have more to do before an even remote break becomes available for you all.

Despite the exhaustion, you can't help lying awake for another hour, just to take in everything.

To let yourself relax into your girlfriend's warm embrace.

It takes but a moment to realise just how much you love her.

How you would do this over and over again just to see that smile again and again.

Just to see her this carefree and relaxed.

Just to see her dark brown eyes light up within a moment of a single whistle.

Watch as she jumps into your arms again, holds you tight, and kisses you with fervour and pure joy.

Someone once asked you if you ever saw yourself with anyone else.

Your answer?

"Are you kidding? Hell no."

----

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - X

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more gif and pics from pinterest

he tastes like candy, he’s so beautiful -Awful, Hole 🤘

10. little bird

Wick says nothing more, just holds your gaze, and again you feel like the floor is going out from beneath you. You’ve become accustomed to your cooler body temperature, but now for the umpteenth time tonight you feel hot beneath the collar. 

“It’s…just a coincidence.” 

“Surely.” He smirks at you, laughing at you, deep down.

Asshole. 

One extremely fine, extremely dangerous, asshole. 

Glaring at the two of you eye-fucking eachother, Constantine clears his throat. “Are we trying to find don Juan or not? Otherwise, I should get to Midnite’s.” 

You look to John. Despite the energy you’d shared with him, he still has dark circles under his eyes, still seems just this side of fragile. You remember how much blood you had to take from him last time, to call up that much excess power, that it just felt like you were floating above your corporeal body. You’re not sure he can spare it, now. If you sent him to an early grave with blood loss you know you would walk yourself right out into the sun. 

On the other hand, there is Wick, robust, full of blood, and who you wouldn’t feel guilty at all about taking down a peg or two. His smile widens as he notices you assessing him like a piece of meat, his powerful body sprawled in the rickety old chair–maybe he wouldn’t be so smug, however, if he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

“Depends,” you answer John. “Will you let me in, or are you going to keep stonewalling me?”

“I’m not exactly in the habit of leaving my aura hanging wide open. It leads to bad things in my business,” he grumbles. 

You suppose, considering his occupation, that’s understandable. But you also think he’s making excuses to shut you out.  

“Uh huh.” 

You cross the cracked linoleum floor to him. He’s so tall that you’re nearly eye to eye, even with him sitting, and even though you already fed once tonight, just looking at him like this kindles that insatiable hunger in your belly, a lick of desire that curls in you like smoke from an opium pipe. Heady. Wonderful. Addictive. Shields up or not, you know he feels it too in the bond between you, his lips parting with a gasp, his pupils dilating to turn his dark irises purest black.  

He takes your hand, and the energy that ignites between you as his long fingers slide into yours fills the dilapidated room with something bright and charged. It even makes Wick sit up straighter in his chair. It feels like sunshine on your face, when you were still human, and you cannot suppress a sigh of enjoyment. 

They both seem surprised when you hold out your other hand to Wick. “Come here.” The vampire hunter obeys, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as he approaches, his presence a solid line of warmth at your back.  

With an almost quizzical look, Wick takes your hand. His fingers are calloused, and strong, and his touch feels like a live wire gripped in your hands. Reincarnated sweethearts or not–your magic likes him, and you think you can work with that. 

Constantine’s frown as he watches this exchange is thunderously contemptuous.  “We gonna sing kumbaya now, baby?” he gripes at you. 

“No. We’re going to find don Juan, and Mr. Wick here is going to cut off his fucking head. Got a problem with that?”

You see the corner of his mouth tick for the barest second, his only indication of mirth before he throws himself wide open to you, and the mingled energies of these two powerful men rips through you like an electric shock. 

♰♰♰

Maybe John Constantine is ill, but you were a fool to think him weak. One mouthful of blood taken carefully from his wrist is so power-charged you practically see stars. It’s possible that adding Wick’s rich blood to the cocktail nearly renders you drunk, so giddy you think you might hover physically off the ground. But the two men on either side of you keep you anchored, vying even now in their holds upon you. 

It’s funny, maybe, that you thought it would keep things tame, drinking from the wrist. But there is an agonizing tension amidst the three of you, unsatisfied lust and painful longing. It all adds a particular spice to this conjuring you work as the focus between them, and you are able to rise with barely a thought this time.

It’s more familiar, this second time you wander through the minds of the city, and you are more careful as you sift through them like grains of rice, in search of that one poisoned seed. You think you are successful more than once, before realizing they are just don Juan’s awful progeny, but not the original root of that particular brand of evil. 

You are surprised, when in your wandering you encounter Angela, the detective John Constantine so secretly fancied. She is in her apartment, working at her laptop. There is a glow of such goodness about her that is rare to find in humans. Her aura is practically a halo, it shines so bright. She is warm, and smart, and strong, and it’s no wonder John likes her, you think to yourself sadly. 

You probe a little deeper, finding that at this moment she is thinking about John. She likes him too, though she’s puzzled as to why. That is a feeling you understand all too well. She must feel your presence, looking up as though there is something in the room with her, reaching out to put a hand on her service issue Glock on the desk next to her. She’s already had quite a scare after her first encounter with real demons, and guiltily you back off, not wanting to upset her.  

You are about to give up your search, feeling that you have stretched yourself to the limit, when at last you sense him. That seething, cloying dark energy that follows don Juan like a cloud. You are more cautious in your approach this time, keeping your distance as you observe him. It seems he retreated north into the mountains, to a chic but almost quaint little house tucked into the hillside. He sits beside a glittering swimming pool, smoking and brooding. The moment you sense him turning your way you retreat, returning to your body, too quickly perhaps. 

It’s disorienting, after being weightless, to wrangle with your flesh and bones, like it’s hard to get all the pieces of you to mesh back again. You would have fallen, if not for two pairs of strong hands steadying you. You lean back on a broad chest. Constantine is before you, you recognize, which makes the imposing wall behind you still Wick. You are either the luckiest girl in the world, or you are cursed. You still haven’t decided which yet. 

“Back off,” snarls Constantine to the dhampir, pulling you into his arms. 

Wick growls, and you can't help but feel like the bone between two cranky dogs. You really shouldn't be enjoying it so much.

“Are you alright?” 

You think you’re fine, but you’re tired. You didn’t travel that far, last time, or search with such purpose in mind. It took a lot more energy than you thought it would.

“He’s in Laurel Canyon,” you whisper against Constantine’s chest. “North end. A little cottage with stone facing, clay tile roof. There’s a bronze statue of horses out front.” You think back, and realize you even remember the house number. You manage to say it out loud before the room starts to spin. Are you going to be sick? “I don’t feel good.” 

“I warned you,” grouses Constantine, even while his hand sits protectively on the back of your head. 

“She did well,” defends Wick. “This will save me time.” 

Sitting back down, Constantine pulls you into his lap, away from the dhampir. You hate to admit how good it feels to curl into him like a child who’s had a nightmare, his arms around you.   

“Great,” he snarks to Wick. “Feel free to go.”

Wick snorts in answer, still looking down at you. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Reluctantly you nod against Constantine’s collarbone, closing your eyes. “I’ll be fine. Will you be fine by yourself?”

Wick laughs lowly at this, but not unkindly. “No worries, ptichka, no more flying around for you. I will give don Juan your regards.” 

“Please, kick him in the nuts for me,” you grumble. The thought of that awful vampire finally getting his comeuppance is darkly satisfying. 

“Would you like me to bring you his head?” 

“Ew.” 

Wick laughs, and you hear his footfalls as he crosses the kitchen to the crumpled vampire in the corner. You’d almost forgotten about the poor bastard. “I will see you soon,” says the dhampir, winking at you before dragging the informant out by his ankles. 

A strange quiet settles over the apartment, without the ominous dark energy of John Wick filling the room. 

You should be scared of him–but you kind of miss him.

“Alone at last,” grouses Constantine, his hold on you tightening. 

You laugh a little, snuggling into the bend of his neck. You start to feel better, sitting like this with him. His hand drifts to your thigh, tracing the hem of his shirt absently. “Was this really the only thing you could come up with to wear?” 

“You don’t like it, John?” you tease sleepily. 

“I like it a lot. For my eyes only.”

“Hmm. I think that’s something only a boyfriend gets to say,” you dare ripost.

He snorts in answer. “If I was your boyfriend, would I get to tell you what to do?” 

“No.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He coughs, and only a beat later do you realize it was a laugh. 

 But then he can’t help but ruin the moment: 

“I thought the dhampir was your new boyfriend, Miss I’ll come visit you in New York,” he complains in an insulting falsetto.  

You, in turn, just roll your eyes. “Excuse you, but I saved you from getting your head lopped off. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Then, he has to go and turn serious on you. “Baby, when I’m gone–” You whine, hating hearing him say it aloud, but he talks over you. ��It’s going to happen, y/n. You’ve got to accept that. And when it does, you cannot take up with him. He is bad news. Call it…my dying wish.” 

You’re smart enough to bite down on your first response, which is, ‘he doesn’t seem so bad.’  

It turns out you don’t have any reply at all, and he watches you with an intensity that makes you fear he can read your mind. You’re not sure why he takes mercy on you, saying more gently, “You can’t save him, sweetheart. Any more than you can save me.” 

You look down, because his laser-like gaze is too much, even for you. 

Part of the reason you want to get this thing solved so badly is because you hope you can save him. Maybe with the help of modern medicine, and your own combined magic…something might work out. Buy him some time, at least. He already seems better, after finally letting you into your bond earlier that night. 

Maybe he’s resigned, but you haven’t completely given up hope. 

“I just…want to get this thing resolved,” you admit. “So you can rest.”  

He lifts one of those angular dark brows, clearly thinking that the only rest waiting for him is the permanent kind. But he doesn’t insist again that you accept the inevitable truth of his demise. Sometimes, when you care about someone, you let them get away with those little lies that keep them sane through the day to day grind of life. Maybe he realizes that you need this, so that you don’t run down the street screaming at God and anyone else unfortunate enough to get in your path.  

“Sure, honey.” He surprises you again, when he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to put you to bed, and I have to go to Midnite’s.”

You know the kittenish sound that escapes your lips sounds ridiculous. “Let me go with you.”

“You’re wiped out. Stay here and rest.” 

“No.” You sit up, feeling a little better. Tired, but better. 

“Yes,” he insists, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“I’m just going to follow you, if you try to leave me here.” 

“For once, can you not be so stubborn when I’m trying to protect you?” 

Your lips dance as you try to suppress a smile, lifting an eyebrow. “I could ask the same thing of you?” 

Another exasperated growl escapes him, and your heart sings when he pulls you into another kiss, that golden rope between you pulsing with energy, singing with light. He pulls back to look at you, his pupils blown wide. You wonder if it occurs to him, that this could be his last chance to be with a woman, if things outside this crumbling apartment do not go well. Or maybe, just maybe, he finds you as irresistible as you find him. Either way, when he tangles his long fingers in your hair and kisses you again, you are all too ready to lean in. 

You’re not sure how it’s possible, that this man simultaneously breaks your heart, and puts you back together again. 

When he stands with you in his arms you give a sound of protest, worried about the extra exertion.

“I’m fine, y/n,” he tells you with a rare gentleness that to you is precious as any gemstone. “I’ve got you.”     

He carries you to the bed in the next room, and you are more than happy to let him have his way with you. 

______

*ptichka - little bird

[noturlondonboy]

Your fellow elder ready to prompt you with some Bishova Touching 35

thank you~ 💖

Touching #35- kissing their bruises and scars

——

Kate Bishop was no stranger to bruises. She always had one somewhere, one way or another- her tendency to jump headfirst into danger and challenge every random criminal she met made injury inevitable. If her knuckles weren’t red and swollen, that just meant she hadn’t been training enough. If her cheeks weren’t aching from getting thrown on her face then she wasn’t working hard enough. Pain was a distraction. Pain was constant. Pain was good.

Until she met Yelena.

The woman was a mystery to her- one she wanted to completely uncover. She was mesmerizing, and insane, and stronger than anyone Kate had ever known. It drove her crazy, to see the assassin so close to her and still feel like she knew so little. But they got close, faster than Kate expected. Before she knows it they’re somehow dating, and she’s the luckiest girl in the world. If you asked Yelena, she would say the same.

Kate’s addiction to pain was never unnoticed. Yelena knew how hard she pushed herself, how much she loved the ache in her muscles and the blood on her lip. And it bothered her, but she understood. The want, the need. The pleasure it brought to be so beaten, even in victory. She understood, so she said nothing; just silently patched them both up whenever it was needed.

But she decided that staying silent may have been a mistake the day Kate comes home inches from death.

The archer is barely conscious, bleeding from her head and mouth and cradling a broken wrist to her chest. Her shoulder looks dislocated. There’s a bullet wound in her thigh. Yelena can see gashes and rips in her suit and skin, dark, painful bruises blooming over her taut stomach.

She wants to scream and cry and kill whoever did this to her Hawkeye.

Kate is different after that. Quieter. Timid. Reluctant to go on patrol, hesitant to accept missions. Yelena sees it all, and it breaks her heart in two. She starts taking whatever position Kate was supposed to have, willingly going out with Barton to take down street level crime. Kate isn’t well. She can be good for her. She can DO good for her.

The first time they get close to having sex after Kate heals up, the archer stops her, tears in her eyes and heart beating with anxiety.

“My darling, what is it?” Yelena says gently, cradling her lover close.

Kate can only cry for several minutes, but eventually she curls into Yelena’s warmth. She mumbles something, and Yelena leans closer, asking her to repeat it. “I don’t feel… pretty- anymore,” Kate chokes out, her face pressed into Yelena’s neck.

Something hot flares in the assassin’s gut, and she pulls away to cradle Kate’s cheeks. “Malen’kiy yastreb…” she whispers, waiting for Kate to meet her eyes. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever been given the honor to lay eyes on.”

Kate stares at her for a moment, lips trembling. “But I’m… I’m broken. My body is… disgusting. The scars, the- the bruises that never go away.”

Yelena shakes her head so hard it nearly makes her dizzy, and she kisses Kate insistently. “Those scars are proof of your strength, your loyalty, your fight, your power.” She's moving back down Kate’s body, marveling at the marred skin underneath her lips as she kisses and nips softly at the scars that her Artemis hates so much. “These are beautiful. You are so beautiful. You are my everything.”

Kate is sobbing quietly, watching Yelena with so much love swelling in her chest she swears she could burst. The blonde explores her body softly, carefully, as if it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. Her fingers trace over the map of pain on Kate’s skin, turning it into love and adoration.

“Kate Bishop, you are perfection,” Yelena murmurs, her lips so warm and so soft as they worship the long, jagged lines over her ribs. “You are nothing but ethereal.”

And Kate thinks that if that’s how Yelena sees her, maybe she can try to look at herself that way too.

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

Request by: @jellibean2018

Hello, Jelli! About two months ago you sent in a request, however my tumbl did me dirty, and I ended up with your ask, and the entire fic deleted! (Though, much to my relief, I found screenshots of the fic in a chat with my friend who was reviewing it. Thank god).

So, I have to tag you, and remind you what you wanted.

From what I remember, you wanted a fic with a female sinner Reader who was once a victim of Alastor's, and the two ending up meeting again in hell. You also wanted an unsettling vibe with Alastor reveling in the memory of killing Reader.

I also want to add that I apologize for how long you had to wait for this fic to be done. I haven't been doing well with fics lately, so this was a struggle. And my mental health started going shit too which is why I stopped posting for so long...

Anyways, I really started to struggle with writing fics, so I ended up experimenting with this one - it's kind of written with huge metaphor kind of style? Hope that's okay with you...

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy reading this at least a little, and I once again apologize.

_

🎙️// The sweet history we share... //🎙️

{Alastor x female!Reader}

___________________________________________

Type: Fanfic

Settings: Not specified

Genre: Unsettling? Can't tell if it actually gives that vibe though,

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, violence, blood, saliva, dead bodies, Alastor revels in the memory of killing Reader, possible yandere vibes? Alastor sees Reader as nothing but a meal, but he puts her on a pedestal - that's probably some kind of fucked up attachment that surely has a name? I'd say the vibe is quite unsettling, but I can't say that for sure, Angel indirectly suggests the use of drugs and hints at sex related activities (but it's just a single line), and that's probably all?

Sidenote: Reader is written as a female just as requested,

Sidenote: I have no idea if I wrote Alastor well... but it feels like I really made him ooc as fuck and ruined the whole request,

Sidenote: Rereading this I think everyone is ooc as fuck even if they have minimum dialogue,

_

That should be all,

Hope you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

Ah, nostalgia. Ah that sweet nostalgia. And that embrace of her.

She comes in unannounced, an unexpected guest. But oh is she welcome.

And oh so welcome are those treats she brings to the table.

She easily settles in, making herself at home. And into a cup, a bunch of memories she pours.

And that demon, the radio demon as he's called - he drinks from that cup greedily.

And like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but ask for another cup to be poured.

His senses feel high, his body tingling. A feeling of addiction is what fills him.

And he can't get enough of those sweet memories, so, he downs one cup after the other.

But with each greedy little sip, the thirst only grows and grows - he's not had his fill still.

So, the demon goes on and on, tasting one memory after the other.

And his mouth waters a big deal the more he can taste, and he savours each and every one.

Ah, and he can't tell which one of the sips of memories he enjoys the most, which one is the most saliva inducing one.

Is it maybe the giddy old memory of how he followed you through the town?

With you completely unaware? Naively trusting those poorly enlightened streets?

Trusting that a bit of weak light will keep you safe?

Or perhaps it could be the sweet memory of the thrilling chase through the forest?

That one forest where thousands of dead bodies laid buried deep in the ground?

Those dead bodies in whose footsteps you followed suit?

Oh! And what about that memory of how you so desperately tried to navigate around and hide, escape his clutches?

Even if he could hear your sharp breaths as clear as the day?

Oh! Or maybe his favourite one could be the moment of when he tackled you down?

Pinning your body under his, finally cutting the chase so the real fun can begin?

And that beautiful moment of how you hopelessly dug your nails into his skin til blood trailed down his arms?

That one beautiful moment engraved into his head of how you desperately clawed at those lanky hands of his?

His hands that trailed, squeezed and pinched at your body, feeling you up like a winning prize, like a fine piece of venison?

Ah, it was so hard to pick which one was the most treasured one!

Hell, it could even be the simple memory of the melodious sounds of your cries.

That melodious, angelic sound of your pleading, whimpering, sobbing and screaming.

Especially those sounds you made when he bit down onto your flesh.

Oh, and that taste that hit his taste buds back then...

He still remembers it like it was yesterday.

And his tongue still tingles, and saliva still floods his mouth every time he thinks of just how tasty you were back then.

And now his mouth waters as he silently wonders... would you still have such taste even now?

Or did becoming a demon change the sweet, addictive flavour of your fragile flesh and thick blood?

Oh, how his senses urge him - beg him - to just grab you and take at least one single little bite...

I'd be really easy too, now that you're a part of the hotel staff.

Silly little you, you didn't flee when you were faced with the fact that he - the one who took your life - also works for the hell's princess now.

You didn't take the more than gracious chance to turn on your trail, run and never return while you still could.

No, you are too stubborn, and you insist on staying, even despite how frightening seeing him on the daily is for you.

Silly little you! Don't you realize how easily he could snatch you away and repeat history?

All it would take is a single moment of when you're alone and-

Ah, but he can't do that - at least not yet...

Where would be the fun in that?

It sure would be a shame to end your lovely reunion this fast and early on, no?

Not to mention the odd, messed up attachment the deer demon feels towards you...

Now, not to be mistaken! What he feels isn't the usual attachment one would think of!

It definitely isn't the good or healthy kind either...

So, we shall not be mistaken, let's not get our hopes up and think he cares - for he doesn't.

You mean nothing to him - at least as far as it comes to you as a person.

Your value could be most likely compared to something of a sentimental value, a plaything at best if you will.

Still, no matter what you are to him - you are by far his most favourite one at that.

That's what can be said for a fact.

And for reasons beyond us and even Alastor, those memories he shares with you are put on a pedestal - put way above the rest.

There were so many faces that twisted in fear, so many names he kept tabs on, so many tastes he's tried, and so many lives he's taken.

But very vast portion of them is long forgotten, not really standing out all that much.

Nor holding any real value. Barely any of them mattered...

But you, on the other hand - oh, he could never forget about that one lovely night you shared...

And even when more victims - more faces, more names, more tastes - came, they couldn't compare.

No, they never could.

Those memories of you and your taste were always stuck in the back of the radio demon's head no matter what new person was on the menu - what new dish was on his plate...

So, one can only imagine just what he feels now that you're back within his grasp.

Oh, not even his wildest fantasies could've come up with or prepare him for such sweet moment!

This was like a gift from the Devil himself!

Yes, a gift - one that Alastor would make sure to cherish greatly...

Ah yes, he would cherish you so.

He'd take his time unwrapping you like the perfect little gift that you are - he would savour you.

And only when he'd get tired of messing with you, only then he'd get to the real deal.

Oh, and when he'll finally do, it'll be like a starving man plunging onto bread crumbs!

It'll be such a beautiful, satisfactorily moment - Alastor can almost feel himself drooling at the mere thought of the moment.

Oh, how he just can't wait for the very moment!

The moment is so close, and yet so far - and every little glance your way is like a test.

A test of how long he can resist the temptation.

Every little move you make, every little noise that leaves you, every little expression your face twists into.

Oh, he can barely hold himself back!

His body feels so restless, and his thoughts are all over the place.

And no matter how much he reminds himself to be patient, to not cut straight to the chase just yet.

He still can barely keep himself in check.

His thoughts are going to dangerous places, and your familiar, sweet scent teases his nose.

Oh, and you're so within reach too!

It'd really just take a single little moment and-

"Geez, that perv's still at it?".

Oh, that's right.

He's almost forgotten about those curious eyes watching him from afar.

Watching, and trying to see inside his head...

But judging by the response Vaggie's hateful comment receives, it seems she's the only one to see right through him.

The only one to see the real danger behind that wide smile he always wears...

"Ya-uh! His eyes have not left her ever since she's joined the hotel staff!".

Ah, Charlie. Dear, sweet Charlie - now she's something else.

She's completely different from her girlfriend - she's quite naively trusting and optimistic.

Fully believing that there's a piece of good in everyone.

And hence not being concerned for your safety when the deer demon started to show an interest in you.

Ah, that sweet, silly little thing.

Caught up in trying to see only the best in people and their intentions...

It's amusing - and truly adorable.

And oh, does it play into Alastor's favour oh so well...

"Okay, that's like so sick and totally-".

Oh, Vaggie - she tries, she really tried to warn the others.

Make them see Alastor for what he truly is.

But aside from Husk, nobody really listens to Vaggie's concerns.

No, she's not all that listened to when she voices her opinions on the deer demon.

Not even when she expresses her concerns for how the latter constantly follows your every single step no matter the time of the day, no matter where you go...

And to think she has quite enough of a say in things as the hotel's manager, as well as the princess' girlfriend!

Oh, that poor little thing - it must be such an awful feeling.

How humorous!

And oh, how unfortunate...

"Ah! Do you think he's-?".

Niffty is completely on board with Charlie.

Similarly to the princess - she too doesn't see the real harm in Alastor's advances towards you.

Seeing his behaviour as nothing other than subtle romantic gestures.

The little demoness' version of romance sure is rather twisted...

And yet, it's still quite surprising Niffty doesn't see the harm in things.

After all, she herself knows Alastor just as well as Husk does...

"Yeah! Strawberry pimp totally got the hots for that one!".

Angel was caught up in the spiderweb of romanticizing the same thing as well.

Just like Charlie and Niffty, he couldn't see the truth...

"What? No! Are you all crazy?! That's not the case at all! How can you all not see that?!".

Oh, Vaggie - again and again, she really tries and tries.

But the result is always the same - nobody pays her warnings or concerns any thought.

And yet she still keeps on going.

What a miserable little thing she is.

"Oh my- I have like the best idea!".

Not even Charlie notices how Vaggie nearly begs for them all to see things from her point of view.

None of them can see things for what they really are.

Alastor's got them all right where he wants them.

Without even having to try much...

"We should totally get the two to have some alone time!".

Charlie is quick to naively play into the radio demon's games.

Without even knowing she's doing that.

She can't see this all is exactly what the deer demon wants...

And neither can Angel or Niffty.

Aw, those naive little fools...

"Yes! We should- like- create some really romantic atmosphere and leave them to it!".

Niffty follows through in Charlie's steps.

She too plays right into what Alastor wants.

Though whether or not she's aware of it is up for a debate...

"We should lock 'em up in a closet together or somethin', or even give them a little... somethin'... to just... ya know, set just the right mood in.".

And angel is quick to fall for Alastor's games too...

Ah, those silly fools...

Unaware they're making all this much easier than it should've been.

They're sealing your doom - the inevitable end you're ought to meet at his clutches.

They're making this all too easy...

They're shoving the little mouse right into the lion's den.

What unfortunate silly fools.

And what an unfortunate little you.

Your friends are serving you to him on a silver platter.

All of them - or nearly all of them - thinking they're doing you a favour.

Thinking they're simply helping a mere fool in love gain the heart of his love interest.

When in reality, they're actually helping a starving predator get closer to his chosen prey...

It was rather humorous - a good source of entertainment for sure.

So, Alastor would humour the group.

He'd indulge in their schemes of trying to set you up with him.

He'd gladly play along and lead them to think he's interested in you.

Well, interested in you they way they think he is, not the way he actually is...

No, they can't know what he actually wants from you.

They won't know.

He'll make sure of it.

They won't know until the very last moment, until the deed's already done.

Or, he'll lead them to think your disappearance has nothing to do with him.

After all, the sudden disappearance of a poor little sinner like you would be nothing new in hell.

You'd just be added to the endlessly growing numbers of hell inhabitants going missing.

Your disappearance would be just a part of the mere statistics.

Well, he'll see.

All depends on which option would prove to bring more benefit.

As well as which one would prove to be more entertaining.

That's what, to the deer demon, matters the most at the end of the day.

For now, he'll just go with the flow and let the situation progress by itself.

With the occasional shove to the right direction, of course.

But it doesn't seem like he needs to wait for that long for everything to be set in motion...

"Hey, Al, you got a minute?".

Yeah, he really doesn't need to wait for that long...

___________________________________________

[cha-melodius]

Hey, hiii! Are you still taking prompts? Am I right that this one didn't come yet:

💖 + firstprince

Your prompt fulfillments have all been lovely and wonderful, superb even, 12/10, absolutely addictive, no notes, chef's kiss. Mwah!

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out (you are right, that one didn't get sent before! sorry for the delay on this, it fought me a bit [no pun intended], but it's also extra long to make up for it. a bit of m-rated smut below the cut. and thank you!! read all the kiss ficlets)

Henry finds him in the training room, slamming his fists too hard into the heavy bag hanging from the ceiling.

“We need to talk about what happened back there,” Henry announces from where he leans in the doorway, loud enough to be heard over the erratic thwack thwack filling the room.

Alex doesn’t so much as glance toward him. “Don’t think we do, actually.”

Unfortunately for him, Henry isn’t willing to let this one go, especially when Alex’s self-destructive streak seems to be still going strong. There’s blood soaking through the wrappings on his knuckles, for Christ’s sake. He doesn’t stop even when Henry crosses over to the bag, so Henry grabs one of his wrists and holds firm.

“What do you want, Henry?” Alex spits, fixing Henry with a hard glare as he tries to twist away.

Henry tightens his grip and tugs him closer. “I want to talk.”

“Well I don’t, so either square up or get the fuck out of my way,” Alex practically growls.

“I’m not going to fight you, Alex,” Henry says flatly. Even if he wasn’t still wearing his office clothes, it’s a stupid idea.

Alex’s eyes flash in a way that Henry knows is nothing but trouble. “You sure about that?”

Henry would reply that he is sure, in fact, except Alex swings a wild hook at him with his free arm, and Henry is forced to block it. Using Henry’s distraction to his advantage, Alex pulls free from his grip and keeps coming, throwing punches and forcing Henry back across the mat until he is, quite frankly, fed up. Henry makes another grab on Alex’s next punch and tries to twist his arm behind his back, but Alex is too quick—he drops his shoulder and throws out a leg, sweeping Henry’s feet out from under him, and the move sends them both tumbling to the floor.

Unfortunately for Alex, though he’s got the speed advantage when upright, Henry’s mass works to his advantage on the ground. Alex tries to squirm out of his grip, but Henry gets a thigh thrown over his hips and succeeds in turning them over so that he’s straddling Alex’s thighs, catching Alex’s other wrist and pinning both wrists to the mat next to his head as he does.

“For fuck’s sake, stop,” Henry snaps, his chest heaving from the exertion.

“Make me,” Alex retorts hotly, defiance flashing in his eyes as he struggles, arching up under Henry’s body, and abruptly a different kind of heat flares in Henry’s gut.

“Alex,” he warns.

A slow grin spreads onto Alex’s face, and he very deliberately shifts against Henry again. “Make me,” he taunts, his voice pitched low, and the last threads of Henry’s tattered restraint give way.

He crashes his lips onto Alex’s in a bruising kiss that’s just as much a battle as the fight that came before it. Alex kisses with all of his teeth and his tongue shoving into Henry’s mouth, and it should be awful but it’s not. The rest of Henry’s breath is stolen away, but he doesn’t care, he’s drawing his own oxygen from Alex’s lungs now. Alex writhes under him, still trying to squirm out of Henry’s grip, and when he finally does his hands go right to Henry’s arse, digging his fingers into the flesh and urging Henry’s hips against his. His stupid little workout shorts do precisely nothing to conceal how turned on he is, and he grinds up desperately against the rapidly tightening region of Henry’s trousers.

“Fuck,” Alex gasps when they part, tipping his head back against the mat and exposing the tempting line of his throat. “More. Fuck, H, I need—”

“I know what you need,” Henry growls against his fluttering pulse, then he shoves a hand into Alex’s shorts and bites down hard on his neck, and Alex keens.

It’s fast and efficient and a little rough—Christ, they don’t have time for finesse, they’re in the bloody training room and anyone could walk in—but Alex clings to him and fucks up just as hard into his fist as Henry leaves a lurid bruise just above his collarbone. Henry knows what he’s doing, and it takes only minutes before Alex is falling apart under him. He calls Henry a fucking motherfucker just before he comes, and then he goes entirely silent as his eyes squeeze closed, his chest heaves, and he spills hotly over Henry’s fist and his own stomach.

Henry works him through it until he’s hissing at the oversensitivity, then wipes his hand on the inside of Alex’s shorts and starts pulling away. That snaps Alex quickly out of his post-orgasmic haze, and he catches Henry by the wrist.

“Wait, what about you?” he asks, looking pointedly down at where Henry’s straining against his trousers.

“I’m fine,” Henry says shortly as he pulls away and stands up. Christ, what he wouldn’t do for Alex’s hands on him, but not—

Not like this.

He clears his throat, shoving all of the too many feelings about what just happened deep, deep down. “Go clean yourself up. We need to talk.”