#if they let him figure out time travel the plot would be over if

[the-sprog]

Caving and writing a plot bunny because I have ideas and now this is too flashed out not to write a fic for it, and I'll forget if I don't write it down somewhere

Timeline I've come up with:

Nicky AU where Sonic has been, for years, telling his parents that he (as Nicky) is part of team Sonic, but he only does coding (like for robots and their communicators) for them and never fights in the front lines.

What happened is that after a few months of Sonic taking over Nicky's body to save the day, Nicky started to take care of the issues himself out of spite. Done with the fact that everyone liked Sonic more than him. It came to a point that Sonic didn't show up anymore, making Eggman (who went to Hedgehog village for Sonic) lose interest with the place.

When he turned 6, he moved away to go live with Uncle Chuck, so he could study somewhere more challenging. He an Amy barely talked anymore, as she would turn every conversation into Sonic praise, worsening Nicky's inferiority complex. During his stay in the bigger city, Eggman attacks and Nicky figures out he's been Sonic all along. And running? Oh, he LOVES running.

However, he starts getting severe social anxiety fueled by a really strong impostor syndrome, causing the start of his selective mutism. For a while, Uncle Chuck is the only one he talks to as Sonic (Nicky still goes to class without issues).

That's when he meets Amy again. She left home shortly after Nicky to go find Sonic and join in his adventures. I imagine that her relationship with her parents wasn't all that great, so she decided to run away when Nicky, her only safe space, left.

Meeting her really hammer in that he's not good enough to be Sonic, as Sonic used to have no issues beating Eggman and his robots to scrap metal.

Not too long after, he meets Tails, who had actually been to Hedgehog village for Sonic as well and knew Nicky and Sonic were the same person. He explains to Nicky (while fixing up the Tornado (who is actually Uncle Chuck's)) that Sonic told him he was from the future and that he couldn't explain what had actually happened in fear of messing up the timeline and creating a paradox. He said that everything will be explained in due time and that he's sure Nicky will figure everything out.

At first, Sonic talked to Tails, too. But it was clear that Tails, just like Amy, had a very specific idea of how Sonic was. Scared of disappointing Tails by being too much like Nicky, he stops talking with him as well. When Uncle Chuck dies, they take the Tornado to start traveling and fighting Eggman. This is when he tells his parents that he joined Team Sonic, saying that he wanted to repay them after they helped him stop Eggman. In exchange to letting him come, he gave them the Tornado.

He continues his studies remotely, still as Nicky if course.

It isn't until the end of the whole Angel Island Death Egg situation that Sonic speaks for the first time in forever. The whole adventure, the emeralds, helping Knuckles, it all made him feel... like himself. Like for the first time he actually was Sonic. Knuckles never learns that Sonic used to not speak, because he was under the impression they were just busy with Eggman and that Sonic was simply a hedgehog of few words until he got closer to people.

Shadow only learns about it when he meets Classic Sonic. The time shenanigans is also how Nicky was becoming Sonic.

Until his mom, Brenda, and his sister, Anita, come surprise visit them. The team had kind of settled down, mostly to give Tails an actual workshop. Afterall, between the Tornado, Shadow's chaos control, and Sonic's running they had no issues getting to wherever was getting attacked.

When Amy opens the door to see Brenda, she's confused, but excited. Before she can say anything wrong, Sonic invites them in, telling them he'll go get Nicky, and pulling Amy to the side to ask her to just go along with whatever Nicky says. She doesn't get the chance to ask how he knows where Nicky is and why his mom thinks he's at their house, but she agrees.

Sonic goes to tell Tails, warning him about Any possibly blowing their entire cover.

As Nicky, Sonic puts on glasses and an oversized sweater. He changes his iconic shoes (with a non small amount of reluctance) and takes things slow.

Amy is... Conflicted. She's happy to see Nicky, truly, but she's not happy that he's lying to his mom and sister. She doesn't understand why he's doing it, as to her it doesn't seem like him. She remembers him a lot... Meeker. Smart and nerdy, but kind of a coward. She'd always thought he'd have gotten along with Tails if they'd had the chance to properly meet, and there they are. Acting like they've been friends for years.

When Shadow shows up, Sonic thinks he's going to fuck it all up. Amy accidentally saves him by introducing him as Nicky, to which Tails explains he's the one that deals all their tech related problems and needs.

Shadow sees through it, raises an eyebrow, and asks if they're fucking with him. They assure him not. Then Brenda and Anita introduce themselves and Shadow takes Sonic aside to get a better explanation. Which he gets in the form of panicked rambling. Shadow agrees not to rat him out, but he also doesn't agree to cover for him.

Shadow tells everyone that he was supposed to meet Sonic for a run, but that the hedgehog bailed on him to go help the Chaotix. Internally, Sonic cusses him out because he knows he'll have to pay then for their silence.

Amy tries to get him to stay, as they'd made plans with Knuckles to have a picnic nearby, but Shadow claims to have some GUN paperwork to deal with. Sonic knows it's bullshit. He knows Shadow doesn't do paperwork.

But she convinced Brenda and Anita to join them.

Nicky meets Knuckles, gets his hand fake crushed (which he lets his mom bandage and ice) and yells at Anita when she says she wants to be part of Team Sonic, too.

Of course, that's when Eggman attacks. Seeing Nicky, Eggman immediately targets him. For old times' sake, he says.

Any tries to contact Sonic but he's not available, so she contacts Chaotix, but they say he's not with them. Tails tells her to call Shadow, and she -reluctantly- does.

Shadow helps save Sonic, making it clear that he's going to hold this over his head forever.

Anita is distraught.

Amy asks Shadow why he said Sonic was with Chaotix.

Sonic tries punching Shadow for his shitty lie. He doesn't succeed, as he's determined not to use his speed, and Shadow gets him in a headlock. Calmly, he says he doesn't know why Sonic would lie to him, but the hedgehog is not his problem. He lets go of Nicky, who gets fussed over by his mom.

Tails, who's been keeping this secret for years, decides that throwing Sonic under the bus to save Nicky some grief is justified. So, he tells them that Sonic has severe social anxiety and does do well meeting new people in these kinds of circumstances. And that he's never met parents of friends he's made, and he couldn't face them.

On the one hand, Sonic gets upset at Tails for telling everyone about it because yeah it's kind of based on the truth. But on the other, it's his mom and sister (and Amy but she kind of already knew. Shadow also knew but not the reason behind it all. So he knows he's going to have to answer questions about it) so he pushes it down.

This is all I have for now actually lol idk how this fic would continue, but I think this start is kinda good. Maybe Eggman fucked up too much and Sonic reveals himself. Idk.

[thehargreevesfam]

is it just me but it feels like five got dumbed down and nerfed the most in terms of his powers? Five didn’t see Ben steal the marigold, he didn’t figure out the CIA was part of the keepers but Luther did? What? No hate to Luther at all, I love that oaf but it doesn’t feel like FIVE!

Not to mention he was the ONLY one whose powers weren’t working or he couldn’t use to his advantage? Like what? Five? FIVE??? He should’ve figured out the teleporting thing. He should’ve figured out the subway. One opportunity I think the writers didn’t use is as the seasons progress five gains a deeper understanding of time travel and he’s able to figure it out more and more, so it comes full circle from s1 when he got stuck in the apocalypse because he didn’t understand time travel, but they don’t do that!! Like is this the same five who figured out what the sigil was in the s3 finale?

One reason I loved five was his intelligence but it doesn’t feel like it in s4

[svmjaeyvn]

hidden love, l.hs

synopsis: there were two things that park jongseong reiterated to you growing up.

1: he was the better, funnier, smarter, awesomer sibling and always would be, and 2: you were to never, ever, fall for any guys like his friends, literally and figuratively.

the first was a lie, one you always rolled your eyes at and the second was something 12-year-old you always agreed to without hesitation. but with time, they soon both became a fib from your lips, 14-year-old you coming to the disastrous realization that boys weren't as icky as you once thought and your older brother's best friend had the prettiest smile (when he wasn't being annoying.) as you continued to grow older, those fluttering emotions grew as well, even with him heading off to university it seemed to leave you with a sense of longing, happier than ever when he'd visit.

until you were 16 and he came home with a girl, one that was far prettier than you were able to compete with in your head and nice enough to be a saint. your hopeless, devastating one-sided crush was forced to be swallowed without much pride, though it held no avail until you dramatically decided to never speak to heeseung again. and it worked, ignoring all his calls and texts, avoiding your family home like the plague whenever your brother was home for break if he was visiting, and simply acting entirely clueless in the unfortunate circumstances that you did end up caught by him, chalking it up to dramatic teenage hormones.

once you reached the age of it being your turn to head to college, you signed up for every exchange program possible, leaving you traveling the world for three years that passed with no contact and your once-upon-a-time crush nearly forgotten. that was until you came back home, finally settling to finish uni and all of a sudden you were a kid again, fawning over your brother's best friend who didn't know how to leave you alone. this time though, heeseung didn't see you as that annoying kid who followed jay around, he saw you for you which scared him so much more with how you've grown and nothing was worse than him feeling something for his best friend's off-limits little sister.

featuring: lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon, nishimura riki, kim sunoo, yang jungwon, hanni pham, kim chaweon, yoon keeho, yoon yechan

status: writing. start: 03/30/24. end: tba.

genre: non-idol!au, college/young adult!enha, heeseung x reader, slight age gap (4 years), brothers best friend trope

content & warnings: age gap??? (slightly questionable morality but no romantic feelings or grooming since they end up with no contact for years until adulthood), cursing, drinking, all that jazz, innuendos, sexual humor, suggestive content, possible smut, forbidden relationship, sneaking around, overprotective jay, jay tries to fight heeseung cause duh, crazy exs, stalker mention, slow burn since they're both in denial, heeseung kind of toxic mentality which is forced to be fix, angst but fluffy ending (?)

a/n: based off the cdrama. watched it months ago but shit had me giggling and kicking my feet even if it's cliche. heeseung is so forbbidden older love coded i had to. im trying to make this a oneshot so well see how long it is,,,,,,, the plot will develop from when they were kids to adulthood to provide some background. once the actual romance starts heeseung will be 24 and reader will be 20 (the year will be 2025). all my drafts and writing has been about jake so im branching out (i love my man tho so he'll have his moments here). anyway! lets see how long it takes me to finish up this one

word count: 6k (as of now)

taglist: closed! (86 of you have responded omg)

[miyukisu]

Breakfast in Bed .ᐟ

❤︎ | Trouble in paradise? Well, Sae has an early morning treat for you to fix that (2.5k wc) ╰ feat. itoshi sae (bllk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 8 | kinktober masterlist

tags - somnophilia, rare sweet sae, sweet and sensual smex, p in v, unprotected smex, p*rn with plot, pussay eating, pronebone, profanity

minors do not interact

"Don't bother coming home. Jerk."

Sae wasn't one to reread texts, but he was beyond restless with the way you two left things an hour ago. It wasn't his fault that he was being kept at work for longer than he would like. He knew you wouldn't believe him when he said that he was trying his best to get home to you.

He wanted to prove a point; he really did. That's why he found himself booking a flight last minute on a trip that takes place at ungodly hours of the night.

That meant his usual ride wouldn't be there to pick him up at the airport and drive him straight to your shared condo unit. The Sae Itoshi had to flag down a taxi and make his way home like an ordinary person.

Sae leaned back on to the worn out faux leather seat of the taxi. His brows were scrunched, already feeling the impending headache caused by the unplanned trip home.

But again, he had to prove a point.

A deep sigh fell from his chapped lips as he opened the door to your place. He quickly checked his watch which read 4:48 AM. He should've been asleep hours ago, but he was generous enough to lose sleep just so he could come home to you as soon as possible.

He pushed his luggage haphazardly to the side before slipping off his shoes. His jacket was next to come off and he simply threw it on the couch.

Sae had to rub the sleep from his face. He'd been yawning multiple times throughout his trip home and he let out one big yawn before opening the door to the bedroom.

As expected, you were fast asleep. You couldn't be bothered to stay on your side of the bed, seeing as how you took up the center all sprawled out and lying on your stomach. Sae watched your sleeping figure for a moment before gently closing the door behind him. He quietly made his way over to the foot of the bed, still observing you.

"Well, here I am. Brat," he muttered to himself. As much as he wanted to tell you that—it was better if he let you sleep. Not that he thought you looked adorable that way, but he wasn't about to wake you up to say something so... asshole-y.

Although, his mind wandered. He was unsure if it was because he always thought this way or because his mind was exhausted from all the traveling he did—but God, did you look ethereal in that silk night dress.

His eyes traced every curve hugged by the fabric. The tiny dress bunched up a bit by your waist, showing off the sorry excuse for panties that you wore to sleep.

He calls them that because it barely covered anything.

Finally, he understood why you were so frantic about him coming home as soon as he could. You missed him and he missed you. Though, "missed" felt like an understatement.

Sae needed you and it took him an awful ride back home to realize just that.

────────────

He had to be careful. Slowly, he let his knee dig into the mattress, the cushions dipping due to his weight. Sae plants both hands on either side of you as he attempts to hover above you. It was like a hungry lion about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.

He let his eyes roam your body, noting how he'll touch you without waking you up. Up close, he can see how your body rises up and down as you breathe. You looked so peaceful—a stark contrast of what you probably looked like earlier when quarreling with him over text.

A soft sigh escapes his lips. Sae was incredibly tired; he wanted nothing more than to plop down right beside you and snooze until morning. But, then again, he also had this urge.

A burgeoning urge to feel you—to touch you.

He took a single finger and traced the column of your back. Sae watched intently as your face scrunched up, annoyed by the unexpected stimulus.

But, much to his pleasure, that one touch made you shift from lying on your stomach and on to your back. He had to move away a bit to make sure you didn't hit him as you moved.

You were now facing him—mouth slightly agape—telling Sae that you were having a good night's rest. Hi gaze lingered on your face for a moment before it trailed down to where your clothes had bunched up even further.

That only made it harder for him to go to sleep.

Sae could be cheeky sometimes. He pulled the thin strap of your panties with two fingers before letting it go and hearing the 'snap' it made against your skin.

You softly grunted, annoyed that whatever it was that was bothering you hasn't gone away yet.

Truthfully, he found it quite amusing. His mind raced about what he was to do moving forward. But the longer he admired your body, the more sure he became of his choice.

Carefully, he pushed the fabric of your dress a little higher—just enough to show your belly button. He hooked his finger on the strap of your panties before pulling it down, slowly and steadily so as to not wake you up.

Once the flimsy fabric was out of sight, he stared at your lower half again—debating whether or not to continue. But he was already there, wasn't he?

As gently as he could, Sae pushed your leg away, opening you up for him. He had seen you countless of times before, but the sight of your glistening folds always seem to knock the air out of his lungs each time. You were a sight for sore eyes.

Cautiously, he traced your pussy with the pad of his thumb. That alone had him sucking through his teeth. He pressed your clit firmly causing you to squirm, but not enough to snap you out of your slumber.

"Fuck," he whispered into the chilly air of your shared bedroom. He liked foreplay as much as the next guy, but he was sure his dick was going to burst with how hard it was. He needed you now.

But he remembered how irritated you were earlier over the phone... perhaps, he could still be nice enough and prepare you even if just by a bit.

He dug in like a starved animal, lapping at your folds with a newfound enthusiasm you had never seen from him before when he ate you out. He was sure you'd laugh at him if you saw how famished he was for you. The stoic Sae Itoshi would never look so desperate like this.

But you were none the wiser about it, so he didn't care.

He suckled your clit relentlessly and you tried snapping your thighs close, but he made sure you kept them nicely opened up for him. Sae was growing impatient by the second, tongue darting in your hole at a quick pace.

You were already a mess for him. Surely, you should be ready for him at this point.

Sae gave your weeping pussy one last lick before hovering above you again. He could barely make out the expression you were making, but you were probably having the wildest dream right now. He softly patted your head—as if to soothe you—and ran his fingers through your hair.

In a rare show of gentle affection, the man leaned down and gave you a quick peck on your forehead. Somehow, that tiny action eased your expression—as though you knew who it was that gave you such a kiss.

With one hand supporting his weight, Sae used the other to free his aching cock from his sweats. He hissed upon feeling the air wrap around his sensitive skin.

He needed something warm, he thought. It just so happens that the perfect little pussy was right in front of him, waiting to be devoured.

Sae stroked himself a few times, easing himself up first before you'd suck him in without mercy.

He felt like a teenager all over again—biting his lip at such a mundane moment. Mundane—considering the other things you two have done in the past.

Soon as he lined up the tip against your entrance, he didn't wait another second. A guttural groan left him once his tip penetrated you. One swift push and he was halfway in.

It had him throwing his head back. This was new—this was definitely new.

"Sae?"

The faint sound of you calling out his name snapped him out of the immense pleasure he was feeling. Part of him felt a tad bit embarrassed that you caught him at his most vulnerable.

"Happy now? I'm home," he whispers. Although, he gives you no chance to respond—stuffing the rest of his length into you.

It felt like the stars aligned for him. The sun rose high enough at this hour that the light poured into the room. He could see more clearly the way your face contorted in bliss.

He pulled out again, only to sheath himself back to the hilt. He was used to fucking you stupid—purging the brattiness that he had to deal with on the daily. But, for some odd reason, he wanted to go slow today.

Sae leaned down again to give you another kiss on the forehead. He didn't feel all too embarrassed now. Besides, you were half-awake anyway.

"Slept well? You better 'cuz I may have missed you."

His words caused you to choke out a moan. "That's rich."

Usually, with a response like that, he'd start snapping his hips faster. But he controlled himself. You were always cranky in the morning after all.

"I know you missed me. Look at how well you take me." His eyes dart down to where you two were connected. A white ring had formed at the base of his cock and there was already a faint squelching sound every time he bucked his hips into you.

You clicked your tongue, annoyed that there was no way of denying the truth. It was hard to lie with his face close to yours and with his dick dragging along your walls so sweetly.

"You can lie all you want, but your pussy always tells me the truth," he whispers in your ear. Again, he cut you off—biting your earlobe gently.

The unusually slow and sensual pace threw you off, but you weren't complaining. He still hit that spot perfectly like he always did. And you kind of liked this—how he'd whisper sweet things to you, kiss your neck so desperately, and make love to you so tenderly.

Slow as he was, it still brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was quick to catch on it as you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you.

The rapid breathing that filled his ears made him impossibly harder. Neither did it help that you kept getting tighter and tighter around him. He wanted to last longer, but the quivering of your pussy caused by your first orgasm pushed him to climax with you. Sticky seed painted your walls.

It was romantic—kind of. He was only realizing that now.

After his climax died down slightly, it was then he felt the sting of your nails scratching his back earlier. Though it didn't bother him at all.

If anything—it only heightened the sensations he was feeling.

"Fuck... I didn't mean to—"

You coo at him. "It's okay. Don't be embarrassed."

Just like he did earlier, you patted his head—hair rather damp from the sweat that built up due to your activities.

But you were too quick to comfort him because he was still painfully hard even after coming once.

"Ah... Guess I won't be going back to sleep soon huh?"

Sae sighs deeply. "I can deal with it myself. You can go back to sleep if you want."

You knew he had a habit of dealing things by himself even with things in the bedroom. It killed him inside to say that; he wanted to do so much more to your compliant body.

As he was about to pull out, you hastily wrapped your legs around his torso to stop him.

"Goddamn."

Sae couldn't help but bury his face into your neck. Thank fuck you were just as insatiable as he was.

"Sleep can wait," you whisper back.

"Turn around then."

'What?" you asked.

"On your tummy. I wanna do something," he explained.

Reluctantly, you unclasped your legs, letting him pull out. Sae helped you turn to lie flat on your belly. Now, you understood what he wanted to do.

Instead of slapping your ass like he would usually do, he caressed it—admiring his favorite body part of yours. With two large hands, he spread you out for him.

The new position made more blood rush into his dick. He had to fuck you one more time or else it would get too painful again.

He sheathed himself back in. His dick stretched you out deliciously and you tried stifling your moans, planting your face into the mattress.

Sae began fucking you with the same pace as earlier. Every drag along your walls elicited a moan from you that went wasted—being muffled by the thick covers.

He kept you all spread out for him. The grip on your ass was almost bruising even though he had promised to be gentle today. It was simply impossible to not get ahead of himself.

No words were exchanged as he pounded you from behind. The exhaustion you both felt and the need to moan your heart out took precedence.

A groan rumbled from his chest. He was close again. He was coming again way too fast for his liking. Sae was starting to think his dick was having problems, but maybe it was just your tight and warm cunt making him go haywire.

"Fuck... what did you do to me?" he wondered before a deep groan rumbled from his chest.

In response, you came abruptly—coating his length with your juices. You let out your most vulgar moan that morning. Your neighbors would have definitely heard if it weren't for the bed suppressing most of the volume.

You've had too many complaints in the past.

"Hahhh... waking up the neighbors? What a dirty fucking girl you are. Take it—take it all."

His hips began to go at a staccato pace, going out of beat once in a while in anticipation of his incoming high.

With one final thrust of his hips into you—he came so much like he hadn't just emptied himself in your cunt earlier. A warm sensation flooded your pussy again.

Sae swore that if he had time to rest after the match and before getting on that plane, he wouldn't be pathetically lying on top of you like this. He swore that he wouldn't collapse after coming a measly 2 times.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note The ending is so ass. I don't know how to end these things wtf

[nephilimeq]

Emotional Growth in 9-1-1

This newest episode is so interesting, because looking at Eddie it becomes obvious that we are looking at a man who is emotionally neglected and stuck at the age that he got Shannon pregnant.

Because he is.

He had a kid so young that he never had the chance to figure out who he was as a person, and then he used his identity from the military straight into the LAFD as trying to tell himself that he's someone who saves other people.

He also felt like he was saving Christopher when he became a single father, so that was an easy transition for him.

But then Christopher goes and makes an emotional decision to leave, and I feel like a part of Eddie is only just realizing that he never had that autonomy at any point in his life and it's sort of this panicked knee-jerk reaction to go straight out to him because he doesn't know what else to do and doesn't have the emotional maturity to stand up to the consequences of his actions and try to fix himself.

We see this in the way he is doing things like growing a mustache or shaving it off and then reenacting Risky Business.

He's not facing the emotions.

He's avoiding them...

...versus Buck who has had the chance to experience a lot of the world because he was emotionally neglected. He went out and traveled the world and figured out what parts of himself that he liked and didn't like, and then became a firefighter because he knew he wanted to help people (even though that is a part of his trauma, the people pleasing, most of it is completely honest).

We see him in therapy several times, and it's obvious that over the seasons he has been trying to come to terms with the darker parts of himself.

And now he's at a point in his life where he's just discovering another part of his identity, he's now finally secure in it...and then when Tommy left it felt like part of him was leaving.

Buck's endgame has to be Tommy because it's the only thing that makes sense in terms of his character arc.

To fall in love and make that home.

Because unlike Eddie, Buck has had the chance to have a lot of different relationships in several different ways, so he knows what it's like to have an infatuation versus actually being in love, and Tommy feels very emotionally different from every single other relationship that we've seen him have on screen.

The only relationship in which we saw Buck being himself.

The only relationship where he felt seen.

The only relationship where he was happy.

The only relationship where he was finally Evan, without the trauma behind his name anymore, and not just "Buck".

...and the fact that we have seen Tommy's character in previous flashbacks as part of all of the "Begins" episodes, it would be the perfect parallel for Tommy to be where Buck ends and Evan begins.

By Eddie running away to Texas and letting Buck stay in his house, it is very synonymous with how Buck is stepping into that chapter of his life of settling down and creating his own family outside of anyone else's expectations.

Eddie was Buck's first real friend in the 118, one of the first ones to start to let him feel seen.

...but now Buck no longer needs that constant validation. He is stepping into a much more healed version of himself, even if he still is a little bit impulsive sometimes—though his impulsiveness can be good, we've seen that on the job. It's saved more than a few lives when no one else might have taken the risk.

Because of how Buck has grown, we have seen him actively learning from his mistakes—versus Eddie, who is still running from them, which is why this plot line makes a lot of sense to me.

Eddie can't grow where is.

Buck can.

That's why Buck living in Eddie's house is so symbolic, because it's a way of showing how different the two of them are now. Buck can grow and move forward in a place that Eddie was never able to.

He recognizes change and embraces it. He jumps into the unknown with two feet—it's the one thing we have seen consistently from him over the seasons, and I think this is where Buck is taking a moment to breathe and really think about what he wants next.

If the writers do it right, we will see Buck settling into himself even more...

...and then reach back out to Tommy.

Feeling more settled, he and Tommy will finally talk and all of their issues will be dragged out into the open and dealt with.

They both acted impulsively but in different directions when they broke up, and I think this season will be about Buck finally slowing down and looking before he leaps.

But he'll still leap ;)

[vinnyvamppp]

hmmm okay. for ur consideration… fem!reader x atom eve. maybe reader making a move during those 5 years where mark travelled back in time when nobody thought he was gonna come back? or maybe something set in season 2 when eve is trying to get over mark? anything works, i’ve just been considering the concept for a while.

Atomic Heart

Note: I would've done season two, but there's not enough drama for me, so we went with the former. Also, if this story seems familiar, it's because it is. It's been repackaged and repurposed bc we can't have nice things.

Warnings: Smut, Pussy Eating, Fingering, Tribbing, Improper Use of Powers, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Power Play & Restraints (Consentual), Mentions of Invincible, Mutual Pining & Emotional Angst, Alien Technology, Porn w a Plot, etc.

Synopsis: With Mark gone for five years, and Eve's lips ghosting promises against your skin, you realize... it was time to take his place.

Atom Eve/Samantha Eve Wilkins x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,555 (I LOVE HER)

Mark left.

At first, it was just a mission. Then, it became a choice. And after five long years, it felt like a ghost story—whispers of a man who had once been here, who had once held her, who had once promised he would always return.

But he didn’t.

And you had to watch Eve bear the weight of that absence alone. She had been so hopeful at first. So certain that he would come back before she even began to show. But the weeks stretched into months, and soon, that hope had nowhere left to go—so it settled in her hands, in her breath, in the quiet way she held herself together.

And then, there was the baby.

You never meant to love her. Or maybe you did. Maybe it was impossible not to. Maybe it started the first time Eve took your hand and pressed it against her belly, laughing softly as the child stirred beneath your palm. Maybe it was in the way she’d look at you when she was too exhausted to stand, silently trusting you to be the one to hold her steady. Maybe it was in every midnight conversation, every fleeting moment where she let herself lean against you, warmth sinking into warmth, two people filling the spaces Mark left behind.

Maybe love had never been a decision at all. Maybe it had always been inevitable.

When Mark finally returned, standing there with his wide, hopeful eyes, expecting to pick up where he left off— Eve didn’t run to him. She just sat there, arms folded over her chest, a fortress of quiet resentment and exhaustion. And when she finally spoke, her voice wasn’t angry. It was just tired. “I thought you were dead. Welcome home, Mark. I’m glad you’re alive, but… I don’t want to see you again. We’re through.” And when Mark flinched—when he realized, too late, what he had done— you gazed with pity from afar as tears pearled against his waterline. Eve simply watched, having already grieved their lost love.

You weren’t sure if it was anger or protectiveness that burned in your chest. It didn’t matter because you had already chosen your side.

The first time you met Samantha Eve Wilkins, she was floating midair, casually reconstructing a crumbling building with nothing but a flick of her wrist and a furrow of concentration. The second time? She was gritting through an awkward explanation about why she’d recreated alien bondage tech.

“I—okay, so—hear me out.” Eve held up her hands defensively, hovering over her workbench where the sleek golden cuffs rested. “It’s not like I meant to make them for, you know, that.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, and you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

“Uh-huh,” you drawled, pretending to ignore the way her pink energy flickered anxiously around her hands. “So, you accidentally reverse-engineered Flaxan tech that forces two people to move in perfect sync?”

Eve bit her lip, eyes rolling within their sockets. “Well, yeah, technically. I mean, I saw them years ago during the invasion, and I thought, wow, that’s an insanely advanced neural-link system, and then I just… y’know, figured it out.” She was talking fast now, rambling through it like it was basic knowledge. “And then I may have tested them, maybe realized they could be used for, um… more personal applications, and now I can’t turn them off without—”

Your heart skipped. “Without what?” Her pink energy flared, and she let out a tiny, guilty laugh. “…Without you helping me.” You blinked. “Helping you how, exactly?” Eve winced, tapping the metal cuff. “Soooo, funny thing,” she started. “The cuffs are already linked. To me.” There was a beat of silence before a strange warmth bloomed over your skin—a slow, pulling sensation in your chest, like gravity had shifted just slightly.

Eve sucked in a breath at the same time you did. “Oh,” she whispered. Your fingers twitched. So did hers. “…Eve.” Your voice came out slower, weighted, as your limbs suddenly moved in tandem with hers—so naturally, so fluidly, that it was unsettling. “What exactly did you do?”

Her pink energy crackled around her fingertips as she attempted to shift back, only for your own body to mimic her perfectly. Her breath hitched when you both stumbled forward at the same time, chest-to-chest now, your movements completely bound to hers.

She groaned. “Okay, fine. Maybe I got a little carried away. But it’s still Mark’s fault because if he hadn’t just abandoned me for half a decade, I wouldn’t have thrown myself into stupid projects like this just to stop thinking about him.”

You felt it then—that flicker of resentment, buried under layers of frustration and exhaustion. Because Mark didn’t just leave her; he left their daughter. And now that he was back? She didn’t know if she could ever forgive him. Your chest tightened. Eve had always been strong, stubborn, and selfless. But this? This wasn’t just about Mark. This was about her. About everything she’d sacrificed, about how much she deserved to be wanted, to be chosen.

You exhaled sharply. Her head tilted, puffy lips stretching into a smile. “...It sounds really bad when you stare like that,” she muttered. You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. Of course, Atom Eve—the literal genius with the power to reshape reality—would get herself into this mess.

But, as you both shifted in place, feeling every tiny movement in perfect sync, a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the cuffs. Eve was watching you now, hazel eyes soft, smile growing. “Guess we should figure out how to undo this before we spend the rest of our lives moving in sync.”

You let out a laugh. “Oh? You don’t want to be stuck with me forever?” Eve hesitated. Her gaze flicked to yours—and for the briefest second, she didn’t look like she minded at all. Then, quick as a spark, she cleared her throat, masking her flustered expression behind a teasing smirk. “I mean,” she mused, “if I had to be stuck with someone, at least you’re cute.”

She surges forward, gripping the front of your shirt as her lips crash against yours. It’s desperate, claiming five years of longing condensed into a single moment. She pours all of it into you—the anger, the loneliness, the quiet ache of missing something she never should have had to miss.

You gasp, caught off guard but not unwilling, never unwilling. You part your lips, exhaling softly against her, letting yourself melt into the heat of her body, the strength of her presence. Your hands move instinctively to her waist, gripping her like you’re afraid she might disappear—as if you don’t realize she’s the one who’s been afraid all this time.

Eve tightens her hold on you, lips parting just slightly, just enough to steal another breath from you, another piece of you. “I could hold you like this forever. Don’t tempt me.” She teased, her warmth spreading throughout like a river. “You talk a big game, Wilkins. Let’s see if you can back it up.” You reply, watching her hands move to your clothing, slow and deliberate. A warm pink glow pulses at her fingertips, and before you can react, the fabric dissolves—thread by thread unraveling into nothing. A teasing reminder of her control—of the night's possibilities.

A slow heat spreads through your skin as the devices hum to life, a gentle caress disguised as technology. Eve guides you to the bed, her hands firm but patient as she presses you down. She was gorgeous, hair splayed across her shoulders as she peered through lidded eyes. She leans in, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re mine tonight. Every breath, every shiver—it’s all for me.” She murmured, her fingertips skimming your skin, tracing slow patterns, savoring every inch of contact. You can feel it in the way she touches you—the ownership, the reverence, the want. “I love it when you act smug.” Your voice is rough with anticipation as you grow restless.

"Mm," she groans, amusement flickering in her eyes. Every little movement, every tiny reaction—there’s no hiding from her, from either of you. A mutual blush creeps up your necks, but Eve only smiles wider, proud and pleased. The space grows suffocating as her lips trail down your neck, her tongue tracing patterns over your collarbone. Impatience gnaws at your bones. Every second stretches unbearably long.

Your hands move abruptly, flipping her onto the mattress as you settle between her thighs.

Squeezing the supple flesh, you feel the heat pooling between her legs, worsening with each passing moment. Lips ghost over her inner thigh, teasing, taunting—deliberately avoiding where she craves you most. A strangled sigh escapes her. Your tongue finally traces over her folds, fingers parting her deftly as you explore her warmth. A fire curls in her stomach, spreading outward, leaving her trembling beneath your touch. An arousal she hadn’t felt in a long time doused her body in a cold chill that hardened the soft peaks against her chest.

The sensation is overwhelming—every touch, every flick, every slow, torturous suck sends waves of pleasure through both of you. You feel a mirroring ache between your own thighs, as if you’re tasting yourself in her pleasure. Slowly, teasingly, your tongue drags from bottom to top. She tastes sweet and tangy, like honey and musk, and you can’t get enough. You circle her clit with the tip of your tongue, teasing the sensitive bud before dipping lower, dipping down to thrust into her tight cunt. 

Her velvety ridges attempt to squeeze your fingers, each stroke leaving her walls fluttering and sucking you in for more. "You look a little flustered, Eve. Something on your mind?"

Eve moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair as her hips rock against your face. You smile against her, the vibrations making her shudder. Your tongue moves in concert with your fingers, plunging deep while your lips suckle gently around her clit. A faint groan slips past your lips as she flexes her fingers, your hips to careen into the touch with a faint groan. You feel the way her body responds, her intoxicating juices soaking your chin, her thighs trembling against your ears. Your breath syncs with hers, building, climbing—both of you wound so tightly you can barely stand it. The silk sheets rustle beneath you, the sound mixing with breathy, desperate moans as you both struggle to stay quiet, to keep from waking Eve’s daughter.

"Don't stop," she whimpers, voice breaking, thighs clamping down as she teeters on the edge. "I’m gonna come—fuck, I’m gonna—"

You double your efforts, your tongue moving faster, your fingers curling inside her, stroking that perfect spot. She comes with a sharp gasp, body shuddering, hips bucking into your mouth as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. You don’t let up, lapping at her, drawing out every last aftershock until she’s a boneless, gasping mess beneath you.

"I hate how much I need you right now," she says through ragged breaths. "If I were you, I wouldn’t move. Unless you want me to make you." She continued, her hands already moving to reposition you. As much as you wished to argue, the thought was enticing. She had you beneath her, legs pushed up and spread wide as your knees met your shoulders. And like a sought puzzle, she squatted herself atop you, using your ankles as an anchor before her labia slotted against yours perfectly.

She grinds slowly at first, teasing herself, teasing you—hips rolling in hypnotic, measured strokes, building heat between you until it’s unbearable. It’s mind-numbing. Every brush of her clit against yours sends tingles racing down your spine, your skin burning where she touches. She leans forward, her breasts pressing against your chest, the frantic slip of her skin reddening your areolas from friction. Her breathing becomes ragged, matching the rhythm of her hips. She looks down at you, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and endearment. The sight of her, flushed and sweaty, her body glistening with effort, is maddening. You can feel her wetness coating you, the slickness making the movements smoother as she glides against you. She changes the angle slightly, her clit grinding away, rolling her hips just so— and your vision whites out. Every sensation—her warmth, her strength, the weight of her body pressed against your—became yours, looping back between you in an endless circuit of sensation. You could feel her stimulation too, the way it crackled through her nerves, feeding into your own until you didn’t know where you ended and she began. You feel her need as if it’s your own, the way she trembles, the way her body begs for more.

Suddenly, a bright pink light fills the room, blinding you momentarily. You blink rapidly, trying to adjust your vision as the light fades, revealing Eve's eyes glowing with the same pink hue. She doesn't pause her movements, her body continuing to rock against yours, but her hands move to her sides, and you hear a soft humming sound. As your vision clears, you see that her hands are crafting something in the air, the pink light coalescing into a solid form. She molds it with her fingers, shaping it into a double-sided dildo. The toy glows with an otherworldly energy, its surface shifting and changing as if it's alive. “I can feel you trembling. I like it.”

With an eager smirk, she reaches down, her hand still glowing with the pink light. She guides the toy between your legs, and you gasp as it slides inside you. The cool, smooth surface bulbs against your G-spot. She takes it in with a slow, shaky movement, her eyes watching as your limbs stiffen with a choked sob. The sight of her impaled on the same toy that's inside you is incredibly erotic. So much so that you became dizzy. She leaned down, your lips meeting gingerly as she mumbled weakly, her insides twitching as she pistoned her hips downwards.

Eve's movements become more urgent, her breath coming in short gasps. The dildo shifts inside you, the angles and pressures changing with every movement. The phantom touches start slow, featherlight strokes dragging over your skin, but then—then they grip, squeeze, pull. The feel is exhilarating as it traces over your features leaving your hairs standing on edge. You can feel her, through the toy, her muscles clenching and releasing in sync with yours. The room fills with the sound of your combined moans, the wet, slapping noise of your bodies meeting, and the soft hum of the glowing dildo.

The throbbing continues, her clit grinding against yours, the dildo filling you both. The dual stimulation grows too much, and the pleasure becomes almost unbearable. "Touch me. Please.” Her only plea snapped your attention into place. Reaching up, you rolled a nipple between your fingers, the pad of your thumb smoothing over the sensitive peak, watching as her eyes rolled into her skull. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your belly, ready to snap. Eve senses it, her eyes screwing shut as she increases the pace, her hips moving faster.

As your orgasm hits, your body convulses, the waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Eve rides it out with you, her own body shaking as she reaches her climax. The dildo seems to pulse with your combined energy, the pink light flashing brightly before fading away. Eve collapses onto you, her body slick with sweat, the toy slowly dissolving in the air. The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sound of your combined breathing, slowly returning to normal.

She exhales, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder before settling beside you, her forehead resting against yours. There’s something vulnerable in the way she looks at you now, something unguarded like she’s finally allowing herself to want this—to want you. "I didn’t think I could have this again," she admits softly, almost to herself.

You reach for her hand, fingers threading together as you squeeze gently. "You never lost it." Her lips part, as if she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. Not when you look at her like that—not when you’re still here. She sighs instead, curling into your warmth, pressing her body against yours like she’s afraid of letting go.

Beyond the door, the world is still waiting. Responsibilities, regrets, unspoken fears—but not tonight. Tonight, Eve stays in your arms. And for the first time in years, she doesn’t feel alone.

A/N: My girl deserves better in every universe. THIS WAS PROOFREAD SO EXCUSE RANDOM EDITS LMFAO.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[inkspiredwriting]

payback

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: This was a request. As always, feel free to say if you liked it, even if you didn't, please tell me.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was not a man easily rattled. He'd seen the end of the world, faced off against assassins, and outwitted time itself. But there was one person in the universe who could consistently throw him off balance, and that was his wife, Y/n.

It was a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where the world felt slow and peaceful. Five and Y/n were lounging in the living room, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Five had his nose buried in a book, his usual brooding expression softened in the comfort of home.

Y/n, on the other hand, was in a mischievous mood. She had been plotting a little prank for weeks, ever since Five had teased her relentlessly about a minor kitchen mishap that had left their kitchen covered in flour. He’d insisted on calling her "Flour Queen" ever since, and she figured it was time to get a little payback.

"Five," Y/n said, her voice deliberately serious as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Mmm?" Five replied, not looking up from his book.

"We need to talk."

Something in her tone made Five pause. He looked up, brow furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong?"

Y/n took a deep breath, putting on her best somber expression. "I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and… I think we should get a divorce."

Five blinked, his brain momentarily short-circuiting as he processed her words. "A… a what?"

"A divorce," Y/n repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the laughter bubbling up inside her. "It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this anymore."

Five’s book slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a thud. He stared at her, his usual composure cracking. "Y/n, what are you talking about? Why would you want a divorce?"

Y/n bit her lip, struggling to maintain her serious expression. "Well, for one, you never help with the dishes."

Five blinked again. "The dishes?"

"Yeah, and you’re always leaving your socks everywhere. And don’t even get me started on your time travel obsession. I just… I need more in a marriage, Five."

Five’s eyes widened as he frantically searched for words. "I… I can do the dishes! And… and I’ll put my socks away! We can talk about time travel less—wait, is this about the flour incident? Because I was just joking, Y/n. You know I love you more than anything!"

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. She could see the genuine panic in Five’s eyes, and it was almost too much to bear. But she wasn’t done yet.

"It’s not just that, Five," she continued, her voice wavering just enough to make it believable. "I just feel like… like you don’t appreciate me anymore."

Five stood up, moving to her side with a desperation she hadn’t seen since the apocalypse. He took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. "Y/n, that’s not true. I appreciate you more than anyone. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel… human. I can’t lose you. Please, let’s talk about this. We can work it out, I promise."

Y/n could barely hold it together now. The sight of Five, normally so calm and collected, practically pleading with her was both heartbreaking and hilarious. She took a deep breath, deciding it was time to end the prank before Five actually had a meltdown.

"Five," she said, her voice softening, "I’m just messing with you."

Five froze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What?"

"I’m kidding, Five," Y/n said, unable to keep the smile off her face any longer. "I don’t want a divorce. I was just getting you back for all the ‘Flour Queen’ jokes."

For a moment, Five just stared at her, processing what she had said. Then, as realization dawned, his expression shifted from shock to something between relief and exasperation.

"You… you little—" Five started, but he was cut off by Y/n’s laughter.

She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she giggled uncontrollably. "You should’ve seen your face! You were so serious!"

Five let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his heart still racing from the scare she had given him. But as Y/n’s laughter filled the room, he couldn’t help but smile. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

"You’re evil, you know that?" he muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"Maybe a little," Y/n admitted, looking up at him with a playful grin. "But you deserved it."

Five shook his head, still in disbelief that he had fallen for her prank. "I really thought you were serious."

"I know," Y/n said, her smile softening as she reached up to touch his cheek. "But seriously, Five… I love you. And I’m not going anywhere."

Five’s heart swelled with affection as he looked into her eyes, filled with warmth and mischief. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you too, Y/n. But if you ever scare me like that again, I might have to time travel just to get even."

Y/n laughed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Deal."

Five sighed, finally relaxing as the tension melted away. He knew that life with Y/n would never be boring, and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They spent the rest of the day together, the earlier scare quickly forgotten as they settled back into their usual rhythm. Five couldn’t help but chuckle every now and then, still amazed at how Y/n had managed to pull one over on him.

As they curled up on the couch that evening, Y/n resting her head on Five’s shoulder, he glanced down at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, I was this close to agreeing to anything just to make you stay."

"Good to know I have that power," Y/n teased, poking him in the side.

Five chuckled, pulling her closer. "Just don’t abuse it too much, alright?"

"No promises," Y/n said with a wink.

And as the evening sun set, casting a warm glow over them, Five realized that he had found something far more valuable than anything time travel could offer—a love that was playful, strong, and endlessly surprising.

[summercourtship]

WASTE NOT (18+)

or, the reader is travelling with the Ghoul when he discovers she's never fucked before. You figure out what comes next.

cooper howard/the ghoul x reader | warnings/notes: loss of virginity, masturbation, exhibitionism, piv sex, oral sex, barely proofread | side note: i might end up reusing this general plot for a longer multi-chapter fic, we'll see

read on AO3

Five hundred caps, two hundred upfront.

That’s how much it took for you to get out of the gilded cage that was your hometown, a decent sized settlement inside of what used to be a Rodeo stadium and aptly named for it. That’s all it took for you to escape your father, the mayor of said town who kept you under lock and key, both literally and figuratively. You’d tried to escape before, attempts that had been thwarted before they even began. It only led to you being locked in your room and only allowed to walk the town with a bodyguard, someone hired to make sure you didn’t run for it. 

Some people might say that it was a privilege to be cared for so much that you didn’t have to constantly fight for your life. You thought it was a surefire way to get you killed when you finally did leave his grasp.

Since running away, you’d done many things for the first time that most people did before they were even ten years old. Held a gun, caught your own food, killed a man. 

And the man you’d paid to take you through the wastes was the first ghoul you’d ever met. Your settlement didn’t ban them from entering, but they weren’t exactly welcoming either. But you’d been immediately drawn to him, which you at first chalked up to the novelty of meeting a new kind of person, the kind you’d only read about.

However, as you’d continued traveling with him and the novelty wore off, you quickly realized that the draw you felt to him wasn’t just because of culture shock. 

The Ghoul, which was the only thing you called him because he’d given you nothing else to call him, was sitting by the fire he’d built, a slow curl of smoke drifting from the cigarette hanging in his mouth. You looked over at him, observing how the light from the flames reflected off of his worn and imperfect skin. It was a sight you’d seen almost every night this week, but every time you felt like it was the first time you were seeing him. 

Your week was almost up. When you’d hired him, you’d told him you only wanted to leave your town for a week, just to experience the Wastes before returning to your “ivory tower,” (his words, not yours). It had taken some bargaining on your end (and you had to give him chems in addition to the caps) but it had worked. You were out of the clutches of your father, you were finally experiencing life for the first time.  

And you had no intention of going back when the week was over. 

You were sitting across the room, perched on an old bed that was still standing in the half-ruined house, though shack might be more accurate. An entire wall was missing, letting you look right into the starry night sky from your seat. But mainly you were looking at the Ghoul, who was looking after one of his guns. You brought the drink you’d been nursing- just a Nuka-Cola you’d found on your journey and saved for this moment- taking a deep sip of the fizzy drink when he spoke up. 

“Stop starin’ at me.” 

You choked, sputtering up the Nuka-Cola in your attempt to catch your breath. In your coughing, you only managed to spill more of the drink on yourself, an unfortunate chain of events that left you with a soaked through shirt. You cursed under your breath, looking down at the brown liquid that would surely stain the fabric. Did you even have a clean replacement in your bag?

Leaning towards your bag, you placed the almost empty bottle on the floor before flipping the flap, peering inside. 

“You might wanna take that off before the flies smell the sugar.”

Your current task forgotten, you stared up at the Ghoul, who wasn’t even looking at you when he said it. But the idea of taking your shirt off around him when you knew that he could see it was terrifying. However, he was right when he said you’d need to get the shirt off of your body soon and put it into your bag. Who knows how much sugar was in Nuka-Cola, how far its sweet scent would travel if it was out in the open. And you certainly didn’t want to attract any bugs your way. 

Sitting up straight, you cleared your throat. Your fingers worried at the hem of your shirt.

“Could you turn around…” Your voice trailed off at the look on his face, a brief glance your way. 

“It’s nothing I ain’t seen on other women.” 

“Okay, but I’ve never-” You stopped yourself from finishing your sentence, realizing exactly what you were admitting, but the damage was already done. The Ghoul leaned forward and you tightened your grip around yourself, as if the shirt still being on your body would protect you from his judgment. 

“You’ve never…?” The pregnant pause hung in the air between you, but you weren’t going to clarify. You didn’t move, which must have been enough of a confirmation for him because he whistled low in his mouth. “Why am I not surprised? You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

As if shooting a gun naturally came before losing your virginity. (Maybe it did, you wouldn’t know). 

“Can you stop?” You huffed, your face hot. “If I had wanted to, I would have.”

But it seemed that any of your attempts to get him to drop the subject wouldn’t work, because he was looking at you intensely, an unreadable look in his surprisingly human eyes. Not for the first time, you wondered what he looked like when he was human. You’d tried before, to imagine what it looked like when his skin was smooth and he had a nose and hair, but nothing seemed to match his demeanor as well as being a ghoul did. 

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“I-” You swallowed nervously, your heartbeat in your throat choking you. “I didn’t see the point, not when my dad is probably going to marry me off to some geezer who can’t get it up anyway. And I don’t need your judgment about it.”  

You were now trying to hold onto any semblance of dignity you had left. Pretending like you’d made a conscious choice to not lose your virginity instead of it being a result of your virtual imprisonment by your father. Like you hadn’t yearned for the touch of someone else. (And, of course, like you hadn’t yearned at all for him over the course of the past week.)

“Do you touch yourself, at least?”

You froze, looking across the room at him like he was a Deathclaw. He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. Like he could smell your apprehension, or worse, your burgeoning arousal. 

“Do you touch yourself?”

This isn't something you had talked about ever with anyone. But you couldn’t help answering him. “Y-yes.” If he looked surprised that you actually spoke, you couldn’t tell over your own embarrassment. 

“Show me.” When you didn’t respond, still sitting there staring at him like he had grown two heads, he sat back in his seat again, his hat dipping low. “Or don’t. I’m not going to force-”

You cut him off before he could continue, suddenly not wanting this opportunity to pass you by. After all, you only had this last night with him and then you would go your separate ways. If you horribly embarrassed yourself, it would only be for tonight. “Okay.” You think that this is your biggest streak of surprising the Ghoul. But he recovered quickly, a sly grin sneaking onto his face. 

“Take your shirt off first.” 

Nodding, you slowly reached down to the hem of your shirt, trying and failing to will your hands to stop trembling. Then, quickly, you peeled the sticky fabric off of your skin. You were a bit annoyed that you had managed to spill so much onto the shirt- it was a nice shirt, a rare find on the surface. But it didn’t matter now, considering where it had led you. 

You dropped your shirt onto the floor, unable to look at him as he surely looked at your chest. 

Suddenly feeling bold from his gaze, you did more than just take off the glorified rag from your chest- you divested yourself of all of your clothes, placing them into a messy pile by the mattress. You were now exposed to the elements and to his gaze, heavy as he looked over your body. Once again, he didn’t betray any of the surprise he might have felt. 

“Should I-”

“Lie down.”

You stared at him before you slowly lowered yourself, trying to keep your eyes on him. When you couldn’t anymore, you closed your eyes. If you couldn’t see him, it wouldn’t be nerve wracking to be watched. But even as you thought it, you could feel the heat of his gaze on you. 

“Touch yourself.” 

At his surprisingly gentle command, you exhaled shakily. Gently, you dragged your hand down your body, your breath quick. After a moment of teasing yourself, you pressed the pads of two fingers against your clit, rubbing a slow circle against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Immediately, you sighed, relieving tension you didn’t know had been building. While you had masturbated every night at home, you certainly needed the relief it gave you after a week of stress and almost dying. You were surprisingly wet, though not enough to qualify as dripping. your fingers circled your clit, your hips sudden bucking slightly. 

Across from you, the Ghoul groaned, and you tilted your head up, looking at him. His eyes were entirely focused on your cunt, watching the wet slide of your fingers over your folds. His teeth were clenched together, and you gasped at the sight of him watching you so intently before you bit your lip to muffle the sound. Then his eyes moved from your fingers, looking you straight in the eyes as he started to speak.

“I bet you touched yourself all quiet, trying not to let daddy hear you fucking yourself. But your daddy ain’t here, and I want to hear the noises you make.”  

You whined, his words going straight to your cunt. What was more painful was that he was correct- many nights you’d bit your pillow as you’d fucked yourself with your fingers, trying to keep quiet. 

“Go ahead, slip a finger inside-“

You stopped moving, looking at him again, taking the moment to catch your breath. 

“I’ve never really done that-“

The Ghoul cursed, and before you could blink he was off of his chair, moving closer. He was now knelt in between your legs, his gloved hands on your knees and staring up at you. 

“I gotta fuckin teach you everything, don’t I?”

Swiftly, he removed his gloves, throwing them onto the pile of your clothes. Then he swatted your hand away from your cunt before replacing it with his own fingers. At the dramatic shift in skin texture you gasped, immediately grinding against his rough fingers mindlessly as your hands flew to your mouth to muffle your cries. 

“None of that, I told you I’m gonna hear the sounds you’re making ‘cause of me.”

He moved down your body, pressing kisses and delivering brief bites to your flesh. With each nip of his teeth you gasped, torn between the desire to push his head away or beg for more. Then he reached your sex, pausing for a moment and letting his warm breath fan over you. You squirmed, unsure if you wanted to beg him to touch you or if you wanted to run away from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all.

Then his mouth was hot against you, his tongue licking a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, and you wondered why you’d ever thought about not letting him do this. With no nose in the way, he was able to press his face fully against you. He dipped his tongue into your opening, flicking it against your walls and thrusting a few times, the movement of his tongue in addition to his fingers overwhelming. 

He groaned against you as he lapped up your wetness, sounds of a man dying of thirst reaching an oasis. 

With a final wet sound, he removed his tongue before moving to suck on your clit, his hand moving from your thighs to return to your core. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He murmured as he pressed two of his fingers inside of you. You’d tried before to fuck your self like this but always found the feeling unsatisfactory. But his fingers were larger than yours, able to hit the places inside of you that you had begun to think were myths. 

It was overpowering, and any thoughts that weren’t about him quickly dissipated. 

Every indent and ridge of his skin dragged along your cunt and the sensation of being filled combined with the attention he was giving to your clit started to build you towards your peak. 

“Come for me, cmon.”

But even though you’d never come before at the hands of another, you knew what you wanted. You were afraid that if you came now, he wouldn’t actually fuck you. And if you were taken back to your rinky-dink town, you wanted to at least say you’d been fucked by someone you wanted. 

“I want to feel you- hm- inside me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His teeth were gritted together again, like he was so entirely focused on making you come that he didn't want to hear anything else.

“Yes, I do.” You raised your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. “I want your cock, I need you to fuck me-“

“Fuck.” He murmured, eyes lidded as whatever shaky resolve about actually fucking you he had broke. “For someone who never killed before this week, you’re dangerous.”

With swift movement, he pulled himself out of his pants and climbed up your body, pressing his hips against yours. He hovered above you, the head of his cock rested heavy on your clit, his hips rolling once to grind the length against your wet cunt. 

“Please.” You murmured, raising your hips to meet his cock. He gave you a dark look, and if he had eyebrows you’re sure one of them would be raised as if to say ‘you ready?’

Then he started to press in, his thick head catching before he pushed through the tight ring of your opening. Your mouth was slack, eyebrows furrowed as you focused on relaxing for every inch that was slowly pressing into you. When you looked at him, he was entirely focused on watching his cock disappear into your wet heat. 

He was slow, but you didn’t think it was due to any care for your comfort. No, from the look on his face, you would hazard a guess that he enjoyed slowly taking your virginity, feeling each inch of you give way to his thick cock. He liked the surrender. 

When his hips finally nestled against yours, he rested for a moment, his breath heavy. 

“Ready?”

Okay, maybe he cares slightly about your comfort- the thought was quickly erased when he pulled out and slammed back in, filling you quickly. You cursed, your hands flying to the bed to scramble for something to hold on to. But there were no sheets on the filthy mattress. So instead, you reached up to him, grasping the back of his duster for dear life as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He lowered himself as you wrapped your naked legs around his hips, bracing himself on his elbows above you. 

“So fucking tight.” He murmured against your face. One of his hands slipped from where it was braced above you to circle around your clit, the pressure just enough to send you back towards your peak. “This cunt belongs to me now, y’hear?”

“Yes- fuck.” You babbled, and when he whispered against you to finally come, you did so with no hesitation. Your legs gripped him tighter against you, his thrusts shorter but more forceful with the constraint. With your cunt clenching around him as you sighed through the aftershocks of your orgasm, he removed his hand to suddenly grab your chin, looking you in the eyes.

“Where should I-“

“Inside me, inside me please.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to argue with you. But then you clenched down on his length again and his hips stuttered against you, a low groan escaping him. Reinvigorated, he began fucking you even harder, which had seemed impossible. 

“Take it, take my cum like a good girl- that’s it-“ his words left him as he finally finished, his hips pumping as he cursed and spilled his warm spend inside you. You hummed at the feeling of it, the tiny thrusts as he pumped you full of him dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. 

When he finally pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your opening, he looked back at your face with a sly smile. 

“I hope you have some RadAway at home.”

____

The Ghoul didn’t bring you back into the city. He seemed to think you were experienced enough to handle the last hundred yards of desert without him. I’ll come back later for the rest of my caps, I have some business I need to deal with. Did you feel a little bad that you were cheating him out of three hundred caps? Yes. But you hadn’t thought this far when you’d paid him the first time, and now it was too late. 

You barely said goodbye. 

Once you were out of sight, you took off running in the opposite direction, only looking behind you once to make sure no one was watching or worse, following. 

You were free.

____

Well, you were free for about two days. 

Then, one evening, you sheltered yourself in an abandoned house. Two stories, though you only peeked in the upper story to see if there was anything worth grabbing. You didn’t want to risk the floor falling out from under your feet. 

A noise in the doorway draws your attention upwards, to where the Ghoul stands, silhouetted in the setting sun, like he had just left for a second, not for days.

You’re allowed a split moment of happiness at the sight of the familiar figure before you recognize what's in his hands. You barely have a second to try and escape before, like a flash, he whips the lasso around your torso, drawing it tight and pulling you closer as you struggled against the rope. But it held fast, and with every passing second you were losing ground. Finally the pressure of the rope was too much and you collapsed to the ground, the sun bearing down in your eyes until a shadow fell over your face. 

“Y’know, when I went back to your little… Rod-e-o to collect on the final portion of my payment, I really expected to see you there. Tellin’ people you regret ever leaving. Maybe I’d have to rough you up a bit for the caps, though I’m sure you’d enjoy that. So imagine my surprise when I find out your father has put up a reward for whoever finds ya and brings ya back.”  He laughed, a cruel and humorless thing. “I’ll get paid for takin’ you out and takin’ you in. And the word around town is that there’s a man there willin’ to take you off your father’s hands.” 

His last words made your stomach sink, more than anything else he had said. It was something your father had threatened, even if he hadn’t meant it as a threat. Maybe he thought it was your dream to marry and have children. But you knew that whatever man he picked for you to marry would be powerful, powerful enough to ensure that your father would remain in office until he died. 

And powerful men were cruel. 

“No-” You gasped out, suddenly out of breath. 

“Ah-ah-ah.” The Ghoul tuts softly, leaning down. “D’ya really think a week is enough experience to survive out here?”

“I won’t go back.” You spit, renewing your struggle against the rope. “You can’t make me.” 

If you were a complete idiot, you’d say: I’d rather die than go back. Because while, in spirit, it was true, you knew that he would take your word for it. And you really didn’t want to tempt him to put a bullet through your brain. 

You may have fucked him, but you certainly weren’t anything special to him. 

“You don’t have much of a choice, sweetheart.” 

“He wants to marry me off!” You said, like saying it indignantly would change his mind about taking you in as a bounty. “I refuse.” 

“And what’ll you do when I drag you back?” 

Find a way to escape again, even if it takes years. 

Like he read the answer in your eyes, he stood up straight. 

“I sympathize, I really do-” You sincerely doubted it, but let him keep talking, “but unless you’ve got something better to offer me, I’m afraid you’re going in.” 

“How many caps is he offering you?”

“600.”

“I have more saved.” You laughed, though it lacked any actual humor. “Every cap he gave me for years, I’ve squirreled away. Not letting me leave my room really helped me save money.” 

“And how, exactly, are you going to get to your stash without your daddy finding you?” 

You tried to find kindness in his words and were surprised when you did. Though he may not have meant it, he had already given you a perfect out the night before. 

“No self-respecting man is going to want to marry a woman who fucked a ghoul. And no mayor will tolerate his daughter making a fool of him like that.”

For a moment, you think he takes offense to this. But then a smile creeps across his face, hot and hungry.

“Well then, I think we can come to an agreement.” 

[tossawary]

I was thinking about Xie Lian being able to snap the Xin Mo sword in half with his bare hands again, and then I thought to myself... "Wait, Xie Lian and Luo Binghe interaction could be really cute, though?"

Like, let's say that Xie Lian, during his time as a wandering trash god, accidentally falls into an interdimensional rift and ends up in the SVSSS world. His luck is bad like that. But while this is weird, sure, it's not that bad! The worlds are pretty similar and he can still make his living! So, Xie Lian wanders along as usual, curiously learning about this new world, picking through trash, occasionally punching demonic beasts to death to rescue awed civilians.

And at some point, Xie Lian runs into a young Luo Binghe while he's living on the streets. Let's say that Xie Lian rolls into town shortly before the death of Binghe's adoptive mother, has a few sweet encounters with this cute and kind child who doesn't have much to spare for a trash collector, and is there to comfort his new young friend when Binghe's adoptive mother passes away. Xie Lian is still there when Binghe gets thrown out onto the streets and he agrees to help the boy travel to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

So, Binghe gets to spend a month or two as a trash-collecting god's apprentice! He doesn't know that Xie Lian is a god. He suspects that Xie Lian is just a very powerful rogue cultivator who is living very humbly for some reason. The time isn't entirely pleasant, because life is hard and Binghe is grieving, but Xie Lian understands pain very well and is an excellent companion. He sees Binghe safely to Cang Qiong.

At which point, clingy Binghe does not want to separate from this extremely nice person, but Xie Lian insists on it. He wants Binghe to have a better life. He's worried that his bad luck will somehow spread to this poor boy who reminds him of so many other people he's loved and lost. Xie Lian supervises the confusing entrance exam, while the adult Cang Qiong cultivators desperately try to figure out who this strange person is (Airplane Bro is going "???!!!"), and then leaves wistfully. Binghe will later look back on this particular period of his life very fondly.

Xie Lian can then go in and out of the SVSSS plot as a person pleases! I think it would be very funny if Liu Qingge ended up with an unwilling crush on Xie Lian as well, when they have a spar for some reason and Xie Lian handily SLAMS him into the ground. Xie Lian would probably end up running into Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang somehow, both of whom I think would end up being a little obsessed with him.

I think that the best place to bring Xie Lian and Binghe back together is maybe after Binghe escapes the Endless Abyss. So that Binghe can have a nice cry session on Xie Lian's shoulder. Xie Lian can possibly then introduce Binghe to Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang. Or else generally fumble his way through facilitating Bingqiu actually communicating and being less of a painful mess. Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan) is very confused by this character?! Where did he come from??? Who is he??? He's very nice, though, and Shen Qingqiu is feeling maybe a liiiiittle jealous over Binghe.

(I don't know how to handle the System in this AU, but I do like the idea of the System just... not being able to handle Xie Lian. Xie Lian is a god from a different worldbuild. He kind of just breaks everything.)

(If you want to get a little angsty and ghostly, you could have a plotline in which Xie Lian helps the ghost of Shen Jiu somehow. Qijiu resolution?)

Binghe would probably be open to the idea of getting together with Xie Lian as well as Shen Qingqiu. He has a type! He is full of love! But Xie Lian is definitely not interested and is very good at wiggling away from come-ons, so Binghe respectfully doesn't pursue that passing thought / childhood crush, no matter what Tianlang-Jun is saying about threesomes again.

Binghe ends up using the (tamed? broken?) Xin Mo sword to send Xie Lian (his "gege") back to Xie Lian's own world. (Or Mobei-Jun could maybe do it?) Xie Lian has been gone for years and wants to see how his world is doing. Binghe tearfully promises to visit him regularly and to come get him WHENEVER HE WANTS. Xie Lian pats his head and agrees to stay in touch.

So, then Xie Lian tumbles out back into his own world and into the start of the plot of TGCF. And at any point in the plot of TGCF, he's now able to summon a heavenly demon from another dimension (with a super powerful sword that can move mountains?) who would absolutely be willing to fight all of heaven for him.

Xie Lian generally isn't going to do this, because he doesn't want to involve Binghe in his problems, even though Binghe is CHEWING THE WALLS with the desire to help him in return. However, Xie Lian does really like to go out with Binghe and Shen Qingqiu (and sometimes people like Airplane Bro and Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge as well) to nice restaurants every other week or so. "So, what's new?" "Oh, I've ascended to heaven again and it's a little troublesome, ha ha. How are you?"

Hua Cheng is... nonplussed. On one hand, he's a little jealous. On the other hand, FINALLY, people can recognize that Xie Lian is the best person in the world. Luo Binghe has GOOD TASTE and is just some well-meaning kid whom Xie Lian likes a lot and who rightly thinks heaven sucks. Hua Cheng is determinedly shaking Luo Binghe's hand and giving him advice from a Ghost King to a future Demon Emperor.

(Tianlang-Jun CANNOT be allowed into Ghost City. He will NOT leave. I think that Hua Cheng is strong enough to throw him out if necessary, but Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang would just keep slipping back in somehow. Permanently banned from the gambling tables no matter what he offers, but Tianlang-Jun is still allowed to hang out at the Ghost City playhouse because he quickly becomes the favorite audience member of all of the ghost actors. He has AWFUL taste. Yin Yu hates this guy.)

(Also, I do think that Xie Lian would not really like the Xin Mo sword at all. E'ming is a beautiful baby boy made from and by Hua Cheng, who is Xie Lian's favorite person in the world who has never done anything wrong ever. Xin Mo is some random blade that destroys Luo Binghe's mental health and turns him into the worst version of himself! Xie Lian could and possibly should snap that possession sword like a twig.)

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (4/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, drunk sex (with consent), incest obviously, smut, fingering, the angst, suicidal thoughts, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story. Song used in this chapter: Every Breath You Take by The Police

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Over the next few days, Daemon tried to get out of her what had happened and who had put the rape pill into her drink. To his fury, she lied that some guy she didn't know had done it, afraid of what would happen if her stepfather declared war on Larys Strong.

She figured this man wanted just that.

Chaos that he would be able to cash in on, using what was happening to destroy them.

"I do not comprehend you. From now on, I or your mother will be dropping you off and bringing you back from your classes at the University. No meeting friends or going out until you come to your senses." He communicated to her coldly and she replied nothing, not having the strength to stand up to him.

It wouldn't do any good anyway.

Although she should have been worried and terrified, she felt a strange kind of excitement and tension because her uncle, whom she hadn't seen for eight years, had really taken her out of there.

He had really helped her.

She closed her eyes, remembering the touch of his warm, broad hand on hers and his voice, so different from his childish one, deep and low.

Her heart beat harder at that memory, a pleasant, familiar warmth rippling through her lower abdomen.

She felt she had to write him something and after hours of thought she simply wrote the usual thank you. She couldn't stop the feeling of disappointment that spread through her body when he didn't write her back, even though she checked her phone once in a while.

For some reason, she had naively believed that something would now change between them, that she would regain contact with him, that his person would return to her life making her able to finally close this difficult chapter of her past.

However, he remained silent, exactly as he had done for eight years.

She thought it would stay that way until it turned out that her grandfather was organising his sixtieth birthday party with pomp and her whole family was to attend.

"No." She heard Daemon's voice standing in the corridor, overhearing in silence their conversation which he was having with her mother in his office. "There's no way I'm shaking that whore's hand."

"Daemon. My father is dying. You can only show up for a little while and then lock yourself in a hotel room. None of us like it, but I don't want to say no to a man who may not be among the living tomorrow."

Although no one seemed to be happy about it, they were all going to travel there and with each day approaching the event, she was panicking more and more.

She was going to see him for the first time in eight years.

He had no Facebook, Instagram or any other social media accounts: she had no idea what kind of person he was now, what he looked like.

She was afraid that seeing him would make her feel disappointed, that something inside her would finally snap, that the thought that all was lost would make her fall into a state she would never get out of again.

In addition, no one but her knew about what Larys Strong had told her.

Otto Hightower had ordered the murder of your father.

How was she supposed to look that man in the eye?

How was she supposed to look her uncle in the eye knowing he worked for him?

Driving there in their big, black Mercedes she felt like she was about to throw up, her heart pounding like crazy, making her head spin.

"Are you all right? You're pale. I don't want to go there either." Said Jace, glancing at her over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

Daemon, who had been driving while her mother, following behind them drove the other car, looked at her in the reflection of his mirror, throwing her a piercing, menacing look.

He knew she was hiding something, he could feel it, and the tension between them grew more and more.

When they arrived, they were all searched: no guns were allowed inside.

This was to give the guests some sort of sense of security.

As they walked into the great hall, she was overwhelmed on the one hand by how many people were there, but on the other she was glad to disappear into the crowd. She felt her heart stop for a moment when she spotted Aegon talking to his mother – his blonde hair was pulled back, his jacket carelessly thrown over his shirt, sunglasses on his head.

She spotted Viserys sitting next to him, she spotted Helaena, she even spotted Otto measuring her with a focused gaze, but she didn't see him anywhere.

She felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he would not come.

As they sat in their seats, searching for their name cards, she felt she was on the verge of crying.

He won't come because of her.

He would never forgive her.

They were served starters and drink, the loud music and the conversations of the people around her made her feel like she was at a wedding, only the guests were individuals she wanted nothing to do with.

She saw how tense Daemon was, looking around the room impatiently, throwing Otto Higtower a warning glance once in a while.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that someone had entered the room and froze, recognising him instantly – he was looking at her, his healthy eye wide open, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep, anxious breaths.

She was taken aback by how tall he was, how drawn and sharply defined his jaw and nose were, his pale, long scar running from his eyebrow arch to his cheek.

He was dressed all in black, in a leather jacket and turtleneck tucked into belted trousers, his short hair, although visibly styled in a hurry, looked elegant.

She wanted to get up, to approach him, to thank him for everything he had done, but as she rose from her seat he immediately turned his head away, something akin to disgust flashed across his face, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

She watched, feeling like an idiot as he took his seat next to Aegon and turned tense, thinking that she needed to get out of this place as soon as possible.

She walked out into the garden and headed towards the pier, wanting to be alone – she felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, burning tears squeezed under her eyelids, wanting to run down her face.

He couldn't even look at her.

He just pretended not to see her.

She couldn't say why it hurt her so much, why she couldn't let him go when he wanted it so badly: she felt there were years of unsaid words between them, wrongs that had never been made up for.

There had been no apology or explanation from anyone's lips, nothing to help her get back on the right track.

She sat on the wooden platform, staring dully into the black surface of the water, thinking about how it looked in the starlight as if it were some disgusting, dark, dangerous thick mass.

She had a feeling that if she jumped into it she would be all sticky.

She shuddered as she heard someone's footsteps, convinced for some reason that it was Daemon who had come out after her, unable to bear sitting with all these people alone. As she turned over her shoulder she froze, noticing him and stood up quickly, terrified by his gaze, piercing and cold, his eye wide open.

Her heart pounded like mad, her breath heavy in her chest as she watched him pull a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket, his gaze fixed on her face.

"− what were you doing there? −" He asked finally.

She shuddered to hear that his voice was exactly like the one in her dream: cold, deep and low. She swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how close he stood to her, that he had come to her, that he smelled of some intense, masculine perfume.

"− what do you mean? −" She choked out with difficulty, unable to take her eyes off his face.

He took his time answering − he leaned with the cigarette between his full lips over the flame, its tip lit red and hissed as he took a drag.

"− what were you doing in that club −" He hummed. "− looking for a new experiences? −"

Something in the way he said it, mocking and amused, made her feel discomfort and pain in her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of what she should answer to such a brazenly asked question, surprised by his directness.

His lips tightened in displeasure, something in his gaze changed – she had the impression that his iris had turned completely black as he puffed out smoke with his mouth, the smell of tobacco filling her lungs.

"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said coolly, making an unpleasant shiver pass along her back. She swallowed loudly feeling that her whole body tensed, ready to run away.

There was something about him that she feared, as if he wasn't fully human.

You don't even know what monsters lurk in the shadows.

"− I wanted to find out how my father died −" She said finally, wanting to see how he would react to her words.

To her surprise, he burst out laughing, however, it was a downright chilling sound that had nothing to do with genuine amusement. He tapped his finger on his cigarette, causing ash to fly to the ground.

"− and what did you find out? −"

She looked at him with big eyes feeling her heart in her throat, wondering if she should tell him, if she should confront him.

Will he kill her for what she says?

Will he hurt her family?

Despite the questions in her head, it seemed to her that her words had left her mouth without participation of her will.

"− that your grandfather killed him −"

He stared at her for a moment, surprised, his hand frozen in mid-motion to his mouth as he laughed again – this time it sounded like a low chuckle.

"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered making her feel a cold sweat run down her back.

How did he know?

Seeing the look on her face he grinned in a way from which she felt a shiver sweep through her − her breath caught in her throat as he took a few steps towards her, towering over her with an expression on his face from which she could read nothing, taking a drag on the remnants of his cigarette.

"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −"

She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart with his words − the real pain in her chest made her open her mouth wide, her eyes filled with tears of horror.

Larys had used her like a silly little girl.

He had planned everything.

"− did you know about this? −" She muttered, for some reason wanting to believe he had nothing to do with it.

The smile disappeared from his face, as if her question had frustrated him.

"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"

His answer made her simply move ahead, bursting into a sudden, hysterical sob, as if everything she had held inside her for the past days, months, years, had poured out of her like a dark, viscous, thick wave that could not be stopped.

Everyone knew.

She sighed and squealed when she felt his wide hand clamp down aggressively on her arm like steel tongs, turning her violently back towards him, causing her pain. She tried to push him away, panting and whimpering, something about his movements, his brutality, the ache he was causing her gave her pleasure.

Some part of her felt she deserved it.

Some part of her wanted him to kill her, to strangle her with his own hands.

She sobbed when his hand tightened on her hot cheeks, wet and red from the tears that flowed down her face, forcing her to look at him − his wide-open eye seemed completely black to her, his lips parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath swollen with excitement and rage.

He was so obscenely close, watching her as if she were some pretty, interesting, expensive object, the smell of his perfume, his sweat and his cigarettes made her dizzy, everything around them seemed blurry to her.

"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He breathed out at last, his words on the verge of a hiss, his face so close that the tips of their noses rubbed against each other once in a while.

There was a kind of desperation and helplessness in what he was doing, in his words, in his gaze fixed lustfully on her lips, as if he wanted to bite her.

The person in front of her had killed the boy she loved and she knew it perfectly well.

"− I don't recognise you − God, I don't recognise you −" She mumbled at last, feeling the warm tears of grief run down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes, thinking that he could do whatever he wanted to her − strangle her or throw her in the water – she would let him do anything as long as she finally stopped feeling anything.

She squealed in pain as his fingers dug into her tender skin as hard as if he wanted to break her jaw − he took a loud breath through his mouth and shuddered as if something in her words had broken him.

"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed out in a trembling, dispassionate voice full of pain from which she felt hot in her heart.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his forehead pressed against hers, accepting at last that his brutality stemmed from a need for closeness, a need to take by force what he was sure she would never give him of her own free will.

Something in his words and in his gesture of despair made her hands, clenched until now on his jacket, rise higher, to his neck and to his face, running slowly over his jawline. He sighed and shuddered, feeling it, closing his eyes for a moment, the grip of his fingers on her cheeks easing.

She felt her nipples harden under the material of her dress, felt the space between her thighs swell and pulsate at the thought of what she wanted to do.

The moan that involuntarily escaped his throat when her fleshy, moist lips ran over his sounded sweet and innocent, the lick of his tongue that was his response made them cling to each other in a violent, loud, sticky kiss.

It had nothing to do with a gentle caress because it seemed to her that they were simply trying to devour each other − their hands clamped down on each other's bodies as if they wanted to merge into one, their slick tongues meeting again and again between their teeth, licking and teasing each other with loud clicks of their saliva, stripping this act of any sense of innocence.

They knew it was wrong and that's why they wanted it so badly, so when his fingers tightened on her plump buttocks, pressing her against the throbbing bulge in his trousers, she felt her sticky wetness run down her thigh, her hands clenched on his hair, letting him know he could take what he wanted.

"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted into her mouth between deep, passionate, messy, hot kisses, his lips beneath hers swollen and wonderfully wet – he tasted of mint chewing gum and cigarettes, something forbidden, strange, terrifying.

He was a monster, and she wanted him to devour her.

There was no longer a lamp to light for her.

"− mghm −" She mumbled as she felt his hips begin to roll back and forth, rubbing deliberately against her lower abdomen, his tongue thrusting again and again deep into her throat, telling her that he could fuck her, he could destroy her, he could take everything from her, and she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen at the thought.

She wanted him to do this to her.

She wanted to know what it would be like to feel him there, deep inside her.

What it was like to have someone devour you with every thrust of his hips, every loud sigh of desire that was wrong in itself, what it was like to experience fulfilment on the brink of revelation.

"− are you sure you saw her here? −" She heard Daemon's voice and froze, pulling away from him instantly.

They looked at each other with big eyes, pale and terrified, panting hard and quivering as if they didn't recognise each other.

Oh God, oh God, oh my fucking God!

"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out in a trembling voice and ran towards them, towards the light, seeing the silhouettes of her step-father and her brother standing just inside the entrance where two evening lamps were lit.

Back to the light, back to the light, back to the light.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Daemon furrowed his brow as he looked at her, his gaze fleeing to the side, far away to the silhouette of her uncle standing in the distance.

"Did he do something to you?" He asked coldly.

"N-no. No, I just thanked him for what he did for me. Let's go inside." She lied, stepping back into the hall, struck immediately by the loud music, Every Breath You Take was playing all around her, dancing pairs of businessmen, gangsters and drug dealers made her feel like she was about to vomit.

Oh, can't you see You belong to me? How my poor heart aches With every step you take?

"Mum, excuse me, will you show me what room I'm going to sleep in? I feel bad." She muttered with difficulty feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad.

His tongue deep in her throat, his heavy breath smelling of cigarettes and mint, his swollen lips pressed against hers as if he had been dreaming of this moment for years.

This is your fault.

Rhaenyra stroked her shoulder, worried, and rose from her seat.

"Are you sure? There will be birthday cake and wishing soon." She said softly, but she shook her head, the words of the song echoing around her had her on the verge of crying.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace I dream at night, I can only see your face I look around, but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace I keep crying, baby, baby please

"I can't make it." She whispered.

She and her mother went to get her backpack with her things from their car, and then they walked to the hotel part of the manor − the lady at the reception gave them the right key, and her mother escorted her to her room wanting to make sure she could manage.

"Do you need anything? Shall I give you some pills for a stomach ache?" She asked, but she shook her head quickly, opening the door with her card.

"No, thank you. And I'm sorry. Have a good night."

"Don't apologise, my love. Sleep well."

As she closed the door behind her she turned on the light and saw that her room was tiny: it contained a small toilet, and beyond that a single bed, a desk with one chair and a wardrobe for clothes.

She pulled off her dress, washed her face and teeth, then changed into her pyjamas, which were really just an oversized white T-shirt and panties. The night was warm, so she turned off the light and opened the window, lying down in bed.

She tried not to think about what had happened, about how wonderfully he had kissed, about how she had never felt with any boy she had dated what she had felt with him, after years of separation.

She thought she was broken, that she was attracted to something that would help her destroy herself.

Even though her whole body screamed for her to relieve herself with her hand, to sink her own fingers into her warm folds, leaking with desire, she decided that she would not do it, that she would keep the remnants of her dignity before herself.

She fell asleep only hours later from exhaustion, dreaming of him, of him coming to her, of him taking the pillow in his hands, only to press it to her face.

She shuddered, terrified, seeing only darkness around her, hearing some noise. Only after a moment did she realise that someone was knocking on her door.

"− Rhaenys − fuck −" She heard his unclear mumble indicating that he was barely conscious and drunk. Her shoulders lifted in some subconscious defensive gesture, her lips parted in a terrified, accelerated breath.

Oh no, oh, God, no, no, no, no.

She heard a rustling and a thump, as if someone had fallen over, her hands clenched into a fist on the fabric of her duvet.

"− I want to go to sleep −" He muttered so that she barely heard him. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling that his words, his request, what he subconsciously wanted was tearing at her heart.

He wanted to return to that moment, to fall asleep beside her as he had then.

It frightened her how well she understood him.

She stood up on trembling legs, feeling that they were as soft as cotton wool, and walked quietly to the door, pressing the handle slowly. She looked uncertainly out into the corridor, afraid of what she would see – his silhouette sat on the floor leaning against the wall, his head bowed, a nearly empty bottle of whisky in his hand.

He was not coping.

"Come." She whispered.

He shuddered and lifted his gaze to her, his stare soft and dishevelled. He muttered something under his breath, trying to get up, but fell over, collapsing to his knees, his bottle falling out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

"− fuck −" He growled, wanting to reach for it and pick it up.

"− no − leave it − come inside −" She mumbled quietly, afraid someone would hear or see them.

His body was heavy and numb, making her help him up with great difficulty − he had to grab onto the frame of her door and lean against the wall to keep from falling over, and after a moment he slumped down on her bed, sighing heavily.

She closed the door behind him, swallowing loudly, and walked slowly towards him. He only flinched when she untied his shoes and pulled them off his feet, but furrowed his brow, displeased when she tried to pull his leather jacket off him.

"− you'll be too hot −" She muttered, slipping it off his shoulders but unable to pull it from behind his back, which was crushing the material. She squealed, surprised, placing her hands on his chest for balance as he drew her down with a sudden, sharp movement, causing her to fall against his body.

"− come here − God, you smell so good −" He exhaled making her moist insides pulsate greedily around nothing, a pleasant, tickling sensation filled her lower abdomen as his fingers ran through her hair in a gesture she might call affectionate.

He forced her to bend over so that her body clung to his − his thighs parted so that she could feel what was happening to him, how hard he was because of her proximity, while his lips clung to hers with a loud, messy click.

He smelled of alcohol, the taste of whisky melting on her tongue with each of his wet, hot, hungry licks − his hands slid from her neck down her back to her buttocks, slipping under her panties, his fingers digging into the soft texture of her skin.

"− tell me to leave −" He gasped out. "− tell me to stop −"

She moaned softly into his moist lips, knowing that she should do it.

But she didn't.

She felt his erection pulsate hard beneath her as she let the motions of his hands guide her body, rubbing against the bulge between his thighs, her weeping cunt all hot and swollen with desire, leaking with longing.

How could she let him do this?

How could it be so pleasurable?

She got the answer to her questions when his fingers slid deeper between her legs − she squirmed in his mouth, simultaneously terrified and delighted when the tips of his fingers found her hot, throbbing slit, slowly teasing her opening.

"− shhh − easy now −" He whispered in such a way that she felt a tickling shudder run through her lips, nipples and insides making her wetness begin to drip onto his hand, the circular motions of his fingers pressing wonderfully into her sticky folds began to be accompanied by the quiet clicks of her moisture.

She moaned into his mouth like a helpless little child − he hushed her as if he wanted to soothe and calm her, one hand placing on her head, combing his fingers through her hair, the other teasing her puffy little bud, once in a while running over her entrance, making wonderful waves of heat flow again and again through their bodies.

Their kisses became deep and lazy as they concentrated on the movements of their hips, rocking them so that they brushed against each other.

She shuddered and squirmed, shocked when she felt the tip of his middle finger sink between her fleshy walls, soaking wet with desire, sliding in and out of her with the sticky sound of her moisture, making her hips roll back and forth, coming out to meet him.

"− uncle − we can't − we can't, we can't, we can't −" She mumbled out, feeling his tongue thrust deep between her mouth with his sigh of pleasure, repeating the movements of his finger between her lips, her hands roaming over his cheeks and hair, stroking him tenderly as if she loved him.

As if she loved him.

"− we can − we will − we need to prepare you properly − shhh −" He gasped softly, making her body arch in a spasm of pleasure, a helpless, girlish moan ripped from her throat as his finger sank fully into the hot, soft structure of her throbbing cunt.

"− please − it's wrong − God, it's so wrong −" She whimpered, feeling tears of terror begin to run down her cheeks, her hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck, her hips falling and rising on his finger, seeking fulfilment.

They both knew it wasn't enough.

"− shhh − I know, baby − I will take care of you − I got you −" He whispered as his free hand from her head slid down between their bodies, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers − she cried out loudly as she felt him slide them down along with his boxers, his fingers slick with her wetness pushing the material of her panties aside, directing her swollen, pulsing slit at the head of his cock.

"− please, Aemond, please −" She mewled, trying to pull away at the same time and spreading her legs wider, involuntarily allowing him to open her wide on his thick, long erection.

"− let me − I need you −" He exhaled, tilting his head back only to look again a moment later at their bodies, at what he was doing to her, at the way he was forcing himself deep into his niece's body.

The experience was wonderfully painful and pleasurable, as if something that had remained empty had at last been filled, as if she was at last whole, as if his body had always been part of hers.

Her walls offered him only apparent resistance, clenching against him in delight, his quiet, helpless moans were evidence of how good it felt.

She let him sink into her fully, sitting up on top of him, placing her hands on his chest, surrendering − she tilted her head back as his hips with deep, sure thrusts began to slam his cock into her body, his fingers clenched on her soft buttocks.

"− I − ah − mghmmm − G-God −" She mumbled out, bursting into sobs, parting her lips wide, leaning lower, letting him rub her with each stab where she needed it − her silky walls began to throb around his erection, soaking him wet, their breaths heavy and hitched, full of helplessness and vulnerability.

She felt strangely full, with each movement of his hips deep inside her body realising what they were doing and how sickeningly pleasurable it was.

"− thaaat's it − that's my girl − fuck, so good −" He exhaled, drifting off completely into the world of his fantasies, with steady, deep pushes building their way to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief, panting heavily, that the experience of feeling him inside her was something almost spiritual, a revelation of sorts, her body rocking to the rhythm of his thrusts without involving her will.

What they were doing seemed both animalistic and natural to her, as if it was obvious that it had to end this way.

"− just a little more − please, just a little more − let me cum inside, baby −" He mumbled softly, his hands spreading her buttocks apart, allowing him to sink deeper into her fleshy core − she leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues colliding, licking each other in the most ungodly, perverted, lewd way imaginable.

"− A-Aemond − Aemond-Aemond-Aemond − ah! −" She whined into his mouth as he wove his hand into her hair and sank her face into his neck, feeling her warm moisture run down his thighs − her moans and cries of delight were muffled by his skin as her cunt squeezed and sucked him deep inside her in a stunning, overpowering orgasm that shook her body like a wonderful, hot, tickling wave.

She heard him sigh loudly and tilt his head back, clamping his fingers on her flesh, his body convulsing several times as if he had suffered some kind of attack when his hot seed filled her insides at last.

"− God − oh my fucking God −" He gasped out, panting heavily along with her, their hips moving for a moment more in a subconscious desire to prolong this feeling full of relief and warmth.

"− oh, baby −" He whispered, stroking her head and buttocks as if she were a small child.

For some reason unfathomable to her, she was not indebted to him, stroking his torso, neck and jaw, snuggled into him as she had been then, many years ago, feeling at peace, feeling safe, feeling good.

She felt his hand slide from her ass under his back, slipping his leather jacket out from under them, with which he covered their hips. His hand returned immediately to her soft buttock, as if he liked the feel of her silky skin under his hand, his soft manhood pulsing gently deep inside her.

She didn't mind.

"− sleep − don't worry − I want this baby −" He muttered and she swallowed hard, smiling involuntarily, wondering if he even understood what he was saying to her.

I want this baby.

His drunken alter ego was ready to become a father if it turned out that she became pregnant.

She sighed quietly and closed her eyes, focusing only on his scent, on his heart pounding hard beneath her breasts, on his broad hands embracing her body.

She thought, feeling a strange lightness in her heart, that she hadn't felt this wonderful in eight years.

[demonkinguwu]

The Three Subcon Bosses [My fanon version lol]

The trickster shadow, the wrathful queen, and the disappearing moon

Lore Below <3

Snatcher: Once was a kind lonely prince whose only talent was painting, often overlooked and ignored due to this. He fell in love with Vanessa quickly as she was the only one who understood the loneliness of his paintings. The two married after a year of courtship, but the prince worked hard to learn to rule by her side, even going to law school. Unfortunately, he ignored the terrible treatment by his frantic wife for fear of true loneliness until it was too late...

Now the kind prince turned into a terrible and manipulative shadow, using robbed souls and his smarts to grow as powerful as he is, growing to be the sole ruler of the Subcon Forest. He prefers to be in control and over-possessive of everything he deems 'his', including the terrible wife who killed him painfully. He despises her but deep down knows she's the only person who will ever truly care for him even as a monster so she gets to stay as his pathetic little toy <3

However, he can't help but enjoy the very small snippets of moments between them that remind him of a better time when they were young and naive. He can't help but smile as the princess Vanessa was once shines through that red mass of anger, oh how he wishes to rip open the beast and find his princess within it, safe and innocent as she used to be

Vanessa: She was once a kind and sweet princess filled with so much loneliness especially since her father ran away. On a visit to a foreign kingdom, she was immersed in the large gallery of paintings depicting how she felt perfectly, lonely. She soon fell for the painter, a kind but mischievous prince who was just as lonely as she was. But her horrible mother was jealous of her daughter's happiness and poisoned her heart and mind with her evil words, reminding the princess of her father who ran away. The princess' desperate thoughts turned dark and possessive, wanting the prince all to herself, even getting rid of her mother who she thought wanted her prince. The now Queen was more desperate, her heart and mind growing darker and bitter with each day that passed without her beloved... Soon it would all explode, taking every soul within Subcon with her.

After a few years of mindless wrath and pain, she 'cooled down'. Finally gaining sense and guilt, but since no one wished to accept her apologies, she learned not to care over such matters anymore. Her heart grew bitter, cold, and uncaring of much but the evil monster her beloved became. His very existence enrages her, reminding her that her kind sweet prince is gone and all she has is this thing, this terrible and evil shadow who took everything from her. But even so, she can never get rid of him, for he is the only one who will 'care' for her, who could relieve her of her loneliness even if his actions are cruel and taunting. She doesn't want to be truly alone, but he is the only one she can truly trust, so he is the only intruder who will remain safe from her terrible wrath even if she hates him so. Though she knows her prince is gone, she relishes the small brief moments she could see a flicker of him through the monster's wicked being. Oh, how she wishes she could grab her prince in that brief second and never let him go.

Moonjumper: He was once a naive but adventurous lad, a time traveler who shone bright with the moon. Crashing into the strange planet, he met a cold princess whose heart was as cold as ice. He felt understood as he didn't understand what love was either, so he decided to stay with the princess and become her king to find out what love was. They soon had a princess who they named Vanessa. The king loved his daughter very much but didn't love his title or his wife, for he was a being of freedom. Without confronting his wife, he planned to take Vanessa and escape, but he left her behind once his wife figured out his plot. His wife, who grew to love him, was heartbroken and distraught over his betrayal, and so she cursed him with her magic to death, over and over again.

The man became a distorted time rift, cold and alone, wanting nothing more than to find someone to stay with him in his lonely horizon, especially his little princess.

Hundreds of years have passed, and he watches on with great pain as the sweet girl his daughter was once turned into a monster. All thanks to the monster who took over Subcon with that disgusting smirk, he made his daughter the monster she is! And she was no better! Being easily influenced by that monster and turning into a monster herself, they were both horrible beasts! Both were responsible for taking away his little princess! Once he has the chance, he'll get rid of them both! But since he is much weaker and scared of them, he'll abide his time until he can finally avenge his sweet daughter. For now, he searches for someone he could keep in his lonely prison, someone who he can raise to be just as perfect as his little princess...

[dance-is-life27]

Strangers

Costa Rican Cop x Reader

Summary: The stranger at the bar piques your interest, so of course, it ends with you in his hotel room for the night.

Warnings: 18+, smut, gender neutral reader, dry humping, blow jobs, sex with a stranger, drinking, no y/n, very little plot with porn, internet translated spanish, implication of a voice kink at the end cause I just couldn't help myself sorry, not beta read

A/n: Yes I wrote a whole fanfic for a character that has like 5 minutes of screen time, in my defense tho look at how hot he is!!

The sound of glass slamming against the bar top gets you to look to your left but the view of the man before you forces your eyes to stay on him. 

He's stunning, you notice the longer you look at him. From the furrow in his brows to the long slope of his nose to the short beard covering only his chin, all of his face just works together to easily make the most beautiful man you've ever met. His curls are slicked back and it makes you wonder what they would look like, wild and free-flowing, although with his crisp white button-up and black slacks on and an empty gun holster at his waist, it doesn't look like his job would permit something like that. What a shame. 

His head turns sharply towards you and it's clear that you've been caught, his piercing brown eyes narrow at you before they scan across your figure. His eyes assessing you but not quite undressing you. You smile at him when his eyes return back up but you only get a curt nod from the stranger before he turns his head and attention towards the bartender. 

You keep your eyes on him as you sip on your drink, glancing over at the stranger every now and then as it increasingly looks like he's trying to drown himself in his drink. Your curiosity gets the better of you when he slams back his third drink of the night since you've been here, and you haven’t been here very long, and you find yourself plopping down into the seat next to him. 

“What's on your mind, handsome?” You ask, watching as his body turns towards you, the harsh lines in his face almost deter you from even getting this close to him, let alone talking to him. Almost. 

“What’s it matter to you?” He asks in return, his voice thick with an accent that nearly makes a shiver run up your spine. 

You shrug, “It doesn’t, just seems like you could use someone to talk to.” His piercing stare doesn’t leave yours and you can see the gears turning in his head as he’s debating whether to tell you; as he’s debating whether to trust you. The stranger breaks first from the eye contact. Surprisingly, you figured he would’ve put up much more of a fight as he asks the bartender for a refill. 

He waits until the bartender leaves to give you an answer, “My wife wants a divorce,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair before he slumps in his seat, “and she wants full custody of our little girls.” The man downs nearly half of his drink, he doesn’t wince as it travels down his throat and he doesn't turn back towards you until you speak.

“Can I ask why?” 

The man scoffs before he answers, “She says I’m never home, never around, always working.” He lets out a heavy sigh before he downs the rest of his drink in mere seconds before your eyes. You don’t have it in you to look away at the path the liquid takes into and down his body. Luckily the stranger before you doesn’t notice. 

“You know, you won’t solve your problems by drinking them away.” 

He raises his brow at your words as he sets the glass back down on the bar top, “Oh yeah, what do you suggest I do then?” 

You shrug before you look away, watching the sunset through an open window, the clouds and sky are already dark, nearing their more purple and blue tones quickly, the sight mesmerizing you before you turn your head back to the brown-eyed abyss in front of you. His brow is still raised as he awaits your reply, you subconsciously lick your lips as you try to think of an answer and his eyes follow the movement. It makes a smirk appear on your lips before his eyes meet yours again. 

“I’m just sayin’, there are other ways to relieve stress, y’know.” You suggest, leaning your body forward a bit into his personal space. You're close enough to smell his cologne, the deep rich earthy scent infiltrating your nostrils. It’s intoxicating. The stranger leans in with you, not quite meeting you halfway but it's still close enough to let you know that he's interested in you.

“Is that what you want?” 

“Only if you do.” You reply as you watch his pupils dilate before you. Silence fills the air between the two of you, only the noise of the people and the bar surrounding you keep it from being completely pin-drop silent. 

A smirk grows on his lips before he responds, “Hmm, why not?” 

His kisses are surprisingly gentle as you stumble into his hotel room, though his hands that are gripping your waist as he presses you up against the door tell an entirely different story. The duality of both makes you moan into his mouth, already dizzy on the man’s touch and you’ve only just begun. 

His hips grind into you as the kiss deepens and you tug on his curls as your hips subconsciously buck up into his. Your mind is clouded with fog when his mouth moves to your jawline, each kiss tickling you as he travels down towards your neck. 

You toss your head back against the door as soft lips leave a dizzying trail down, eventually ending up at your collarbones. You can’t help but rock your body against his thigh that slipped between your legs at some time during the past few moments. His grip on your waist tightens as he guides you up and down his thigh and you let out a moan when you feel his kiss against your Adam's apple. 

“Please!” You moan out when it all gets to be too much, and you still haven’t even moved off the door yet. 

“Please what? What do you need?” His mouth trails back up your neck and gets dangerously close to your ear before he whispers, “You need me to fuck you?” The deep husk in his voice makes you clench around nothing, your neediness apparent in the way you nod near violently in response. 

“Yes, please!” A chuckle leaves his lips in response to your words before he pulls back, his hands still attached to your waist as he drags you towards the bed in the middle of the room. 

You watch as he begins to unbutton his shirt, slowly revealing to you the muscles and abs underneath, your mouth near drooling as he sheds himself of the first article of clothing on his body. “I can’t fuck you if you’re fully clothed, cariño.” His words force your attention back up to meet a cocky smile on his lips. One that makes you playfully roll your eyes before you begin undressing yourself. 

The both of you watch the other as you strip, piece by piece, clothing by clothing, all of it leaves you, ending up on the floor of his room. His eyes trail down your figure once you’re fully undressed, but this time he’s admiring more than he is assessing you. He stalks towards you slowly, moving at a snail’s pace as his hands find your waist once more. Rough calluses greet you at his touch and his fingertips glide, light as a feather against your skin, up towards your chest. 

You let out a moan as he cups what’s there, his hands kneading the soft of your flesh expertly. His fingers flicking lightly at your nipples that have you pushing into his hands for more. Your eyes roll back and your mouth slides open as he continues at a brutally soft pace he sets and the feel of him leaves you aching for more where you stand. 

“Qué linda eres.” He whispers, not giving you time to respond before his mouth captures yours into a passionate kiss. His hands move from your chest to the rest of your body, anywhere that’s within reach, each touch leaving a lingering invisible imprint on you. 

“Fuck-” you let out as you pull away from the man before you, your breathing unnatural as you try to catch your breath. You turn your head to avoid his intense gaze, his eyes boring into as if you're a puzzle that he’s trying to figure out. 

“Why’d you stop?” He asks you, his nose nuzzling with yours, effectively getting all of your attention back on him. You smile at him, setting a quick kiss on his lips before you sink down to your knees in front of him. 

“I told you I’d help you de-stress, didn’t I?”

He only wordlessly nods as you take his cock into your hand, wrapping your fingers around him easily. You start off slow, giving his cock lazy pumps to begin with. Each tug of your fingers gets him to buck into your hand slowly. 

“C’mon, quit teasing.” He huffs out and when you look up you see him tugging on his bottom lip in between his teeth, his head lowered and his eyes shut tightly. He looks heavenly, you think as you swirl your tongue around his cock, watching his jaw fall open and his closed eyes relax. 

You find yourself moaning as you take him deeper into your mouth, the hefty weight and the musky taste of his cock invading your senses. You let your mind go blank as you bob your head, letting your tongue explore all the parts of the stranger above you. 

He lifts a hand to push his curls out of his face, the once neat slicked back look having long since disappeared. His other hand comes up to rest at the back of your head, the touch doing nothing more than just being there, one that doesn't ask or force more than what you're giving. 

“Shit, just like that, baby.” The man above you groans as you continue. Your rhythm slows as you hollow your cheeks around him. “Dios, esa maldita boca tuya.” The stranger groans out, his hips twitching each time you pull back until you pull completely off him, allowing yourself to pant needily over his cock before you swirl over his tip with your tongue. 

“I want you to come in my mouth.” You request, your own voice raspy and winded as you try to catch your breath. 

Something glazes over the strangers eyes before he smirks at you, “Fuck, you sure?” You can only nod in response before you start again, when you hollow your cheeks around him again a groan leaves his mouth that leaves your head spinning. 

Your eyes slide shut in anticipation, every inch of you buzzing with need. It's then that you raise your hands to grip at his waist, no doubt leaving indents in the shape of your nails along his lower back. The stranger's hips twitch underneath your palms and then his cock twitches a few seconds later. It's the only warning you're given before your mouth is flooded with warmth. 

You lean back, leaving only his tip in your mouth as his cum fills your throat. The salty taste etches into your taste buds in a way that leaves you aching for more as you swallow all that he has to offer. It's not until he pulls you off of him that you finally look up.

The man above you doesn't smile at you, doesn't acknowledge the way that you gasp for air, he doesn’t thank you in any verbal way, instead he just helps you to your feet. His brown eyes locked onto yours as if you're the only person on this planet. The seconds pass by quickly as his eyes drift towards the bed beside you both and then back towards you, the desire that filled them before intensifying. 

“Get on the bed, I'm not finished with you yet.” He speaks and you know then that his voice is going to haunt your every wet dream from this moment on. 

[mmeskywalker]

|| teachers pet

summary: HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN is your professor. a couple of weeks ago, he assigned you to tutor a student who had to retake his class. dylan was a sweet, attractive guy and you had no problem tutoring him. however, noticing the shift in the two of your behaviors, professor christensen began developing a problem. he wanted you to himself.

a/n: i made a janitor ai bot on this au, let me know if you’d like it love, xoxo.

warnings: possibly DDDNE, porn WITH a plot, jealousy, possession, no protection (p in v), biting, choking, age gap, cream pie.

you were a wonderful student; always writing notes, listening intently to your professors lectures, your eyes glued to his lips as the information stuck to your skin like a thick coat of glue. the same skin you wanted your professor to suck, and nip until it bruised a pretty purple.

inhaling, you watched the clock strike two. the class had ended and your peers were packing their belongings, heading toward the door, as PROFESSOR CHRISTENSEN wiped the chalkboard off. his fingers wrapped around the eraser, his arm swiftly moving across the space as he waited for you to walk up to him. earlier, he requested to speak to you in private after class. of course, you were nervous, but you replied with a simple, “whatever you want.”

with a deep inhale, professor christensen cleared his throat, the subtle sound resonating through the empty classroom, “thank you,” he said, setting down his eraser. he leaned against his desk, his eyes traveling sullenly your way, and when he finally spoke, there was a noticeable hint of vagueness in his usually direct tone. "there’s a student i’m concerned about, and i believe you would be the perfect tutor for him.” his voice lowered slightly, careful and demanding all at once.

“straight to the point,” you muttered, trying to hide your disappointment with a laugh as you sat in front of him, “so,” you blew out a breath, “who would i be tutoring, professor?”

"dylan grimes. he’s new here, started some time ago," he began, "very bright, but has trouble keeping up with the pace of the class. i thought, seeing as you were so kind..." with a sly grin, he reached for your hand, his thumb caressing your palm, "...you might help him out a bit."

you couldn’t resist the tantalizing scent of his cologne mingling with the familiar scent of chalk dust, cigarettes and paper. it made your head spin. you could rarely tell him no anyway, thereforth you found yourself accepting his offer, “i’d be delighted.”

professor christensen chuckled softly, tilting his head back slightly in appreciation of your response. he stood up straight again, crossing the few feet separating you to stand loom over your frame, his cologne becoming stronger now. placing his hands on your shoulders, he leaned closer still, his plump lips brushing against your ear as he spoke in a husky whisper, "i knew you wouldn't let me down." his warm breath grazed your sensitive ear canal, causing goosebumps to form on your neck once more.

dylan grimes was kind. he wasn’t angry that the professor wanted him to have a tutor, rather he was grateful. he was grateful that someone would give him the time of day he needed to pass, because he never experienced that at home; he always had to figure things out on by himself. you tutoring him was a blessing, and he made sure to let you know how much he appreciated you.

“thank you, really,” dylan exclaimed, closing his notes, “i don’t know where i’d be without you.”

his brown curls bounced off of his forehead, hitting his freckled skin as his glimmering green eyes peered graciously onto yours. they were shining from the glimpse of sunlight that shone through your dorm-room window, and god, you couldn’t look away. he had you captivated. “don’t mention it,” you smiled, “i’m glad i was able to give you that extra push. you’re doing great!”

it had only been a week since your professor assigned you to the task of tutoring dylan. he didn’t expect you to enjoy hanging out with each other; nor did he realize dylan was sneaking into your dorm late at night and thanking you in ways other than muttering a mere thank you. dylan was leaving flowers on your doorstep, slowly sneaking himself into your life, and even kissed your cheek from time to time. to you, it wasn’t a big deal. he was cute. you’re fine with getting that form of attention from a cute guy. but to professor christensen… he watched as dylan would smile at you throughout class, it made his blood boil. he hated the way dylan looked at you, the way he deemed only he could look at you.

stopping his lecture, he’d tap his ruler on his desk, “i hope you’re paying attention to this next part class,” your professor wouldn’t outright say dylan’s name when he pulled this stunt, rather he stared at him, hoping he’d stop undressing you with his eyes.

though, you weren’t paying much attention to your beloved professor, your eyes were glued to your phone screen, giggling down at the admiring texts dylan sent you throughout class.

“you’re so beautiful,” one said.

another one rolled in, “you’re intelligent, funny, and god… you coming into my life is something i thank the lord for every night.”

his words were sweet. however, the harmful gaze professor christensen had was not. he knew something was going on between you and dylan, and he’d be lying to say that it didn’t bother him.

he wanted you to himself; he wanted all of you to himself.

so… he called you to meet him after class.

now it was time. professor christensen gave you a faint smile before standing up, straightening out his suit jacket. "ah, take a seat.” he cooed.

he wasn’t ashamed to light cigarettes in the classroom, and right now, he needed to release some stress before he found himself losing his temper. “i wanted to talk to you about the project i assigned a couple of weeks ago," he mused. he carefully took a seat on his rolley chair, which moved back from his desk slightly, "i noticed… things have gotten quite… intimate between you and dylan during your tutoring sessions." he took a slow drag of his cigarette, blowing out a ring of smoke before exhaling.

raising your brows, you asked, “what do you mean?” as if you were confused. however, you knew exactly what he was implying. only, you didn’t expect him to confront you so meanlessly in a classroom setting. actually, scratch that. you never expected him to confront you on a matter you didn’t even believe concerned him in the first place. yet, the confrontation sent a chill down your spine, involuntarily causing you to cross your legs.

“am i wrong?" his brows furrowed slightly, displaying worry and slight disapproval. you shook your head, and he sighed. he knew that he's been overbearing lately, but he couldn't help himself. he needed you all to himself. the thought of you making love to someone other than him… he couldn’t fathom it. he’s imagined the sensation of your thighs wrapped around his waist, your arms tied around his neck, and the sweet taste of your pussy being savored on his tongue. it drove him insane. you drove him insane.

"don't pretend as if you don’t know what I’m talking about, sweet girl," professor christensen said, shaking his head lightly with a playful sigh. he stepped around his desk. despite being in his mid-forties, his muscular build was perfectly accentuated in his fitted black turtleneck, exposing the strong muscles of his arms underneath the sleeves he had rolled up to his elbows.

his dirty blonde hair fell messily over his brow, casting enticing shadows on the intense blue eyes that peered deeply into yours. "i know you've spent far too much time on your so-called 'tutoring sessions'. care to explain?" he leaned in closer, heat radiating off of him like a warm furnace against the cool classroom air.

you leaned back into your chair, looking at him through thick, heavy eyes, “i don’t have anything to explain. you wanted me to tutor him, didn’t you?”

following that, you swallowed thickly. you realized what was happening, and the way he was looking at you proved it. he was jealous. his gaze was practically burning through your skull. you crossed your legs tighter, squeezing them together as you tilted your head to the side innocently, “are you upset? because you shouldn’t be. his grades are going up, just as you wanted.”

to that, he raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "i did initially," he admitted grudgingly. "but things have gotten... too personal." he stepped forward, stopping mere centimeters away from you, reaching his hand out to cup your chin delicately, lifting it so that your eyes locked. "i like having you all to myself, darling." his warm breath was caressing your neck, his finger trailing down the base of your throat before his palm wrapped around your neck, "i like the way you moan when you touch yourself, i know how you’d squirm and arch into my touch,” slowly, he squeezed your neck, sending shockwaves of desire and fear coursing through your body. "i don't want anyone else claiming those sounds as their own."

you couldn’t respond, you could hardly breathe, but you weren’t making an attempt to stop him. the base of his thumb was massaging the side of your neck as he bit your sensitive skin, causing you to choke out a quiet whimper.

"see, i don’t give a flying fuck about dylan's grades, my love," he growled softly, placing his cigarette in the ashtray, “all i care about is you, and having all of you to myself.” standing straight again, he let go, this time towering over you. "the problem,” he continued softly, “the problem is you... you and your tempting body that has been teasing mine to its breaking point,” he spat, “no. the problem is dylan finding that same intensity and desire within you… i despise the thought of a specimen so low touching you in ways only i’m allowed to explore.”

“i’m selfish.” he sounded desperate, his palms caressing down your cheeks, “i want you all to myself. i want your heart, your body, and your mind. i want all of you.”

leaning forward, his breath brushed against your neck again. almost as if he couldn’t get enough of you. his plump lips dragged against the red marks from his previous aggression, lightly kissing the sensitive skin as his hand moved downward to cup your denim-clad ass, "i don’t want to share you with that young man," he growled, before grabbing ahold of your wrists.

he pulled you closer until your chest was pressed against his broad one. his cock responded instantly to your nearness, hardening painfully in his pants, and he let out a low groan. "i don’t want to see you with him anymore," he bit almost dangerously, his voice husky with desire.

“professor.” your voice fell flat as turned you around and backed you into a wall.

releasing your wrist slowly, he whispered, "dear, sweet girl," he exhaled heavily, his chest expanding and contracting. "i see it in your pretty eyes. don’t deny me of this." his knee was pressed between your legs, his cock pressing harder against your crotch, making it obvious just how much his desire for you was burning.

"don’t treat me like some weak-minded scholar that needs to indulge in the company of other students," he whispered, his breath ghosting softly against your ear. "i know you, my love. i know you crave more, deep within your soul." his hands moved down, gripping your hips firmly. he pushed you back against the cool stone wall of the classroom, his erection now pressed firmly against your stomach, pulsating through the fabric of his pants.

his voice grew huskier, each syllable washing over you in an unrelenting wave. "i crave you as much as you crave me, sweetheart, more than my next breath. you make me insane, you make my dreams obsessed with tasting you, taking you, owning you. i won’t let you see him anymore, not if I have anything to say about it."

reaching for your button fly, he yanked it open with rough agitation before tearing at the zipper in one swift motion. "tell me you want this, tell me you want me, tell me so i know i can continue.”

with shaking fingers, you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, freeing his impressive length from its confining prison. he groaned deeply, his warm breath fanning over your cheek, as he palmed your ass, squeezing it firmly.

"finally yours," he growled, as if claiming you for his own, before his hips rocked forward, his throbbing cockhead pressing against your wetness.

"fuck..." you managed to whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "of course i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. without warning, he slammed into you, claiming you with brutal force yet with immense pleasure. his dick throbbed inside of you, stretching you slowly, making you gasp and arch your back into him as he picked up a steady rhythm. his free hand gripped your hair, holding you in place while he took what he believed he owed.

"my pet," he groaned, his own raspy breath matching yours in a yearning rhythm, his lips attacking your neck, “my everything.”

"you belong to me," he proclaimed, as he thrusted into you relentlessly, pounding into you like he was making you his. your hips met his each time he thrust, aiding the process of taking you over completely. his other hand found its way to your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple, as if begging it to harden under his touch. "and yet, you’ve never claimed me as yours, darling. it's about time you did." he growled, thrashing into you harder. you could feel every inch of him, and you covered your mouth to stifle a whimper.

"i dare you, little one," he urged, pumping into you with more ferocity. a sly look crossed his face, making his beautiful blue eyes darken as he continued to thrust. his hands never stopping their exploration on your body.

"say it, say you're mine," he growled, his hips driving into you, grinding you against the cold wall. "i won't stop until you admit to it, until i see the fire in your eyes that only I can ignite.” you struggled slightly, only to be yanked back by his desperate hands, his thumb digging into your nipple.

"say you're mine, all mine," he whispered, his breaths coming harder, his hips driving into you more frantically.

"all yours,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with each thrust. despite moments of discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill coursing through your veins, a mix of desire and submission. your body was wrapped around his like a glove, and you found yourself worshiping him, craving his touch.

that’s all he needed to pick up the pace, his thrusts getting faster and stronger.

he leaned forward, his lips met your ear as he mumbled, "don’t forget it, sweetheart." his breathing quickened, and the intensity of his thrusts grew as if he was trying to mark you as his. the room grew hazy, the dimming lights and the sound of our bodies colliding echoing in the empty classroom. "you are mine," he insisted, "no one else deserves to touch you, no one else deserves to have you."

as he rammed into you, you could feel the approaching climax, the build up of pleasure stabbing at every nerve. "that's it, sweetheart. feel it!" he roared, his voice graveled with lust. you clung to him, your nails marking his back as you sucked him in. as he thrust harder, you cried out, the climax building up within you like a tidal wave. with your body quivering and pulsating, each thrust felt like a stab at your core, an explosion of pleasure and desire.

you clung to him, riding the wave of ecstasy as his thrusts grew more frenzied. he moaned into your ear, his teeth grazing your skin, bathing you in his passion.

"yes, yes..." he urged, panting heavily as he thrust, his dick swelling with each thrust. "come for me, my love. let go... let me have you..."

finally, the climax hit you like a truck, engulfing your entire body in waves upon waves of pleasure. you collapsed into him, your breaths heavy as you panted against his neck, clinging to the last remnants of the intense pleasure.

"you're beautiful. that was perfect, just fucking perfect,” he groaned against your ear, his hips flexing, plunging into you one last time before he let go, shuddering and gasping. “f-fuck,” he whimpered. his whole world crashed onto you as he filled you to the brim with his seed, the warmth of his release pulsating within you.

he tugged at his pants, gathering himself before he slowly pulled out of you, his chest heaving. "god, that was... you’re so wonderful, everything i imagined," he whispered, his breath hittingched with each movement. you nodded, your eyes still clouded with pleasure, your body still quivering from the force of the intensity.

sitting down, keeping one arm around you, he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. "i still want nothing else but you, fresh out from a lecture and through each lesson." he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips, "and no one else."

"you will never see him again," he added, his voice firm, "i could never allow that." you just nodded, nuzzling against him as the afterglow of the encounter enveloped both of you.

"what do you think, my love?" he asked, biting his bottom lip, his eyes darkening "can you keep a secret?" you looked at him, nodding slowly. "i’ll keep our little secret,” you whispered, kissing his neck gently.

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner - Azriel

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.

Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!

Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.

From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.

Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.

Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.

So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.

He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.

“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.

“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”

“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”

“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.

“You’ll have to wait until dinner”

Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.

He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.

“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.

“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”

“You don’t… like berries”

Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.

Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.

“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”

Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.

-

Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.

When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.

They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.

It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.

“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”

“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.

The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.

Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.

“Maybe you want to come in?”

She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.

To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.

Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.

Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands. 

Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.

“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”

“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”

Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.

She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.

It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.

“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”

“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”

Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.

The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush. 

-

Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.

She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.

True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.

At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.

It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.

She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.

Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.

Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.

After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.

“What are you looking at?”

Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.

She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.

“Nothing, boy”

“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.

“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”

Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.

She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.

However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.

“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.

“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”

“He did, now?”

They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.

Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.

The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.

-

The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.

Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.

“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”

“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.

“I…”

For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.

He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.

Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.

Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”

“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.

“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”

He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.

The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.

Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.

“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”

“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”

“How?”

Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.

Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.

“I need to do something”

“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “

“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”

“You need to take a bath and rest”

“I will take a bath and rest”

Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.

He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.

Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”

“We will”

Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.

-

What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.

Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.

He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.

That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.

She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.

“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”

“Bah”

“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.

Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.

As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.

Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.

“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.

But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.

All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.

Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.

“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”

Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.

But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.

During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.

She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.

As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.

“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”

Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[artsninspo]

❄️ SNOWED IN SEDUCTION - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this prompt

summary: a whirlwind fic about two strangers stuck on a resort because of a snow storm on christmas eve. starring rio, an enigmatic and mysterious investor.

warnings: this one's messy, with language and its spicy. 🌶️ 🌪️

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: 2.1K

You let out a frustrated groan, putting your head in your hands as you tried to figure out how this had come to pass.

It had started with the snowstorm. The announcement over the hotel’s PA system had grounded you, along with dozens of other travelers, in the luxurious mountain resort. A work trip gone rogue, the only reason you were in attendance was that you had volunteered to ensure one of your colleagues didn't miss the lead-up to Christmas with their young children. But the snow had blown in, ruining your plans for Christmas Day. The frustration of missing Christmas with your family was palpable, but you’d resigned yourself to making the best of it.

Then there was Rio.

The man had appeared at the reception desk, his presence commanding and effortlessly magnetic. You noticed him immediately—the neck tattoo, the scruffy facial hair, the way his black cashmere sweater and dark jeans fit him as though they were made custom. He was a contradiction: rugged and refined, approachable yet untouchable. And when he’d turned his attention to you, his eyes locking onto yours with a heat that made your pulse quicken, it was as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

It was one of those magnetic moments people reference in songs and the rising action of movie plots. When two people look at each other and just know. That’s what it was like—exactly like that. One look communicated mutual attraction in an instant.

Instead of moving hastily or getting bent out of shape, Rio maintained his resolve, moving slowly, commanding time, and insisting the receptionists see to your needs first. It seemed like an innuendo and acted as an aphrodisiac to what would follow. In an attempt to make lemonade out of lemons, the hotel threw a party for its guests. You were in bed on the phone with your sisters when your invitation and a clothing rack of dresses arrived. It was your first note from him.

Hope to see you there. Champagne is on me.- Rio

A quick internet search made it clear the man had money. The bottle alone was worth between thirty to fifty grand. The dresses were all five figures too. How he’d managed to find something to fit your frame so perfectly was beyond your comprehension. Feeling sexy, sultry, and encouraged by the expensive gifts and your sisters' prodding, you were excited to see him again, going against your sensible side. The allure of Rio’s charm proved too strong to resist.

The party had been a haze of champagne and laughter, the two of you moving seamlessly between conversations, dances, and stolen moments that left your skin tingling. Rio had been attentive, his hand at the small of your back, his deep voice whispering in your ear. There was a chemistry between you that felt almost dangerous or maybe it was simply something about him that signaled danger.

When the party ended, he’d walked you back to the Skyloft suite. His kiss had been the beginning of the unraveling—a heady mix of dominance and desire that left you breathless. What followed was a night unlike any you’d ever experienced. Rio was commanding yet patient, his every touch deliberate, his every whispered word a promise of pleasure. He took control, unraveling you piece by piece until there was nothing left but raw vulnerability and euphoria.

He slipped inside, filling you slowly until he fit like a glove. Leaving your breath bated as your body gets used to the stimulation. Dark eyes look down at you under thick lashes. His thumb pressed firmly against your spot forcing your eyes close in a satisfied moan. His lips part yours not allowing for any reprieve and his hips find a rhythm that drives you wild. Tears bead in the corners of your eyes as he goes harder, his hips go faster and his kiss is more feverish. His thrusts are punishing, but his dominance and size makes you crazy for him. Your mouth opens, breaking the kiss in a bid to get air. You’re overstimulated and delirious. It feels so good there’s no room for anything else. Rio looks down at you enjoying the effect and impact of his physicality. The slapping of skin, the heat from your body, the slickness of your pleasure mixed in with his. The chemistry between the two of you is so raw it’s stripped both of you bare, leaving nothing there but an instinctive need for pleasure. He’d seen the doubt in your expression. Men with his bank account often slacked in bed, not him, not with pussy this good. The image of you writhing in pleasure under him keeps him creative in his approach to the fucking and hard as a rock. Wanting to see your pretty eyes again he roots himself deep inside of you. The groan you let out is coupled with a climax and your eyes go to him again. It’s number two in what seems like no time at all.

“If you want me to keep fucking you like a whore act like one and look at me. Watch me while I’m fucking you. Take this dick like a good girl” his words added to the sensation, it feels so good you need a moment and you pull him into another kiss. He kissed you soft and seductive, slowly drawing the freak out of you as replaces his manhood with his fingers, a cheap imitation of what he’s capable of.

“I know your game” he whispered against your lips but you’ve never been fucked like this - ever. Looking up at him he seems like the perfect pleasure dealer. Looking between his legs you find reassurance at how his impressive size stands at attention

.

“You’re defying gravity for me” you commented with eyes that waited to be granted permission to touch him.

“Nah” Rio smiled, his ego too strong to let you be his undoing. He watched your eyes sparkle at the realization of his  objection and smiles when instead of challenging him you find yourself on all fours grabbing him full control. He admires your arch.

“Pick the hole” he said, making your body ache for him. Who even says shit like that?! Reaching back you slide him into your center. Rio hums at the contact enjoying being inside you as much as you enjoy him nestled there too. The angle was everything, giving you the privacy to close your eyes while taking him in peace as he finds your depths testing your limits. The chorus of moans make Rio feel like the old him before the money. It was clear now how much other women put on a facade. The lazy fucking he gave them had them carrying on in ways that didn’t make sense now that he could feel a real unbridled reaction from you. The way your core clenches his manhood before you moan, how your hands go to massage areas being overstimulated, how every time he went to grab your breasts your nipples were pebbled for him. That kind of reaction was all instinct, something that couldn't be faked and it filled Rio with pride. The way you felt to him and how he was making you feel had to be some kind of christmas magic.

He could get lost in you easily, losing his focus on his work and dropping the ball. Your shit was good enough to turn him into a trick or a fiend. The onset of his orgasm is violent and unfamiliar. Warm thick streams float into you for the first time and the sensation drives you wild. Your breaths are rugged as he stays rooted in you. The moment is intimate and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with anyone else, ever. You couldn't have dreamed up a better session, as exhaustion flows in so does a well earned afterglow. Rio stays hard even after he’s caught his breath. Sliding out he rests against the pillows. Your cheeks burn as he looks over at you unable to fathom that this is real as he watches his seed leak out of you. Your brain doesn’t even click into survival mode from the post coital bliss.

“Tell me what I taste like” he says clearly with some power to override your common sense. Slight bitterness and exhaustion stopped you from complying.

“I’d know if you let me suck it” you respond instead of tasting him from your own body and he smiles. Looking between your legs and getting up. Rio returns with a warm rag wiping you clean. The aftercare surprises you. He slipps on a pair of pants and you feel your heart fall, but he takes the robe hanging in the bathroom and places it over your body.

You can still feel the heat of his touch as if it were imprinted on your skin. The way his lips had moved against yours, his hands firm yet gentle, made you shiver even now. He had been attentive in a way you hadn’t expected, making you feel seen, desired, and utterly consumed. You had lost track of time entirely, the hours blending into one long, intoxicating blur of intimacy and passion.

Now, in the bright light of Christmas morning, the reality of it all hit you like a gust of icy wind. Rio was gone, his presence lingering only in the faint scent of his cologne and the ghost of his touch. The knock on the door earlier had shattered your reverie—two men in dark suits presenting an NDA with clinical efficiency. You’d signed it without hesitation, using the alias you always employed for work. Only then had they confirmed his full name: Rio Montana.

Investor. Enigma. And now, a ghost in your memory.

The exchange had been cold, transactional. One of the men had placed a card and a banking printout on the table alongside the money. The other had stood silently, his expression unreadable. "The additional fifty thousand can be accessed following the instructions on this card," the man had said, his voice devoid of warmth. The automation of it all had made you feel small, like an afterthought in a world of power and wealth.

You glanced at the money again, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. What did it mean? Compensation? A parting gift? A bribe to ensure your silence? The thought made your stomach churn, but another part of you, the pragmatic side, couldn’t deny the practical appeal. A hundred thousand dollars could change your life. It could pay off debts, fund dreams, or simply buy you freedom from the grind you’d been stuck in.

But at what cost?

The drive to the airport was quiet, the snowstorm having finally relented. The resort staff had arranged a fleet of SUVs to transport stranded guests, and you found yourself staring out the window, watching the pristine white landscape blur past. The excitement of Christmas felt distant, replaced by a strange cocktail of emotions: shame, exhilaration, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

The roads were lined with snow-covered evergreens, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. Christmas decorations adorned the small towns you passed, twinkling lights and festive wreaths offering a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. You’d always loved the holiday season, but this year it felt hollow, as though the magic had been replaced with a cold, hard reality.

At the terminal, you moved through security and boarded your flight, your carry-on heavier than it had been when you arrived. Settling into your seat, you looked out at the snow-covered tarmac, the events of the past day replaying in your mind. The encounter with Rio had been a whirlwind, a departure from your otherwise measured and predictable life. It had awakened something in you, something you weren’t sure you could name yet.

The plane taxied down the runway. You stared out the window, watching the clouds drift by in a blanket of white, and placed a hand absently on your stomach. A faint flutter of nausea lingered, stressed and mixed emotions threatening to come up with the morning's breakfast.

The other passengers around you chatted quietly, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the engine’s steady roar. A child a few rows ahead giggled as they played with a small, plush reindeer toy, the sound tugging at something deep within you. You found yourself watching them, a strange mix of emotions bubbling to the surface—longing, curiosity, and something you couldn’t quite put into words.

Dazed, shocked, and conflicted, you couldn’t deny the thrill of the experience. But it was bittersweet, a morally gray chapter in your life that you’d carry with you. The money was a blessing, the memory of Rio a curse and a gift all at once.

authour's note: thanks for reading ❤️ I played around with the formatting of this last minute, hopefully it wasn't too hard to follow. I wanted to try something new before the year ended.

there are more holiday fics in the rio archive linked above.

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

if you made it all the way here, this is an prologue concept I have been working on for a secret baby story with OC's.

[hispg]

My sweet friend

Pairings: Best friend Leon! x fem! Reader

Wc: 2.2k

Summary: After a party you decided to sleep in your best friend's house, little do you know that sleeping is the last thing that he'll do.

Warnings: Porn without plot, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, dub-con, drunk sex, dirty thoughts, a bit of dirty talk, shameless smut.

He was shirtless, just wearing his sweatpants, all at ease as he waited for the episode to finish.

Another quiet evening in Leon's apartment. He was just lazing around watching some series on TV. It was his day off, so he was making the most of it.

He wasn't one for staying up late, and considering it was already half past ten at night, it was high time he fell asleep.

He was about to doze off on the sofa when he heard the doorbell ring. This puzzled him since he hadn't invited anyone to his apartment that night.

Sleepily, he got up from the sofa and headed for the door. He opened it while rubbing his eyes, not even paying attention to who was waiting for him.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite police officer!" You say in a slightly raspy, slurred voice. You were very loud that night.

He opens his eyes, noticing your figure. He was used to these visits from you. After all, you were best friends, but he'd never seen you so loose like this.

"Uhm, what are you doing here?" The question came quietly from his lips, although he kept a sweet smile for you.

Of course, he heard when you started talking, but paying attention to what you were saying was another story. His eyes traveled down your body, and seeing the way your curves were being hugged by your tight black dress was simply immoral.

He took a deep breath, remembering every detail. It wasn't hard to guess that you were coming from a party, and you looked so beautiful.

"Mhmmm, Leon! Will you let me in?" You whimpered slyly, throwing yourself into his arms.

"Ugh, you stink of alcohol." He grumbles, gently dragging you inside.

All you did was mumble some nonsensical things, which frankly Leon didn't even try to pay attention to. He just dragged you into his room, laying you on the bed.

You needed that, just as you would need him the next day. He swore to God he was trying not to look at you, but the way your curves were so exposed in that dress.

He shouldn't have, but he could already feel his blood pulsing in his lower body. As a precaution, he decided that he would sleep on the sofa for the night until he heard your whimper.

"Am I going to sleep alone? No! What if there's a monster under the bed?" You said in the same drunken, raspy voice. He wondered how much you'd had to drink that night. And for making the situation more amusing somehow, you sat on the bed and pouted at him.

He hides a laugh from you, finding your childish behavior comical, to say the least.

"Ok, I'll sleep here. But if you kick me out of bed, I'll throw you out. Do you hear me?" Leon whispers jokingly, sticking his tongue out at you.

You nod desperately, pulling him into bed with you. He falls onto the bed gently, snuggling into his side.

And once you lay back down on his bed, he can't help but look at you with the most pleading eyes on earth. Even if you're not noticing it, too busy trying to be comfortable on his bed.

But he can't help it. The way your dress always lifts up a bit, threatening to show the curve of your ass. Fuck, too exciting for him not pay attention. He could end this, surely, just putting a blanket over you would solve the problem.

And that's exactly the point, he don't want to solve the problem.

He preferred to stay on his side of the bed, looking at your ass bouncing every time you tried to get on a comfortable position, the way that the dress drawns your curves so damn perfectly.

He swear to God that he's trying to not think about it, but the way that his cock is throbbing on his pants says otherwise. He even grabs a pillow, softly rubbing against his erection, hoping that this helps him to ease a little.

Didn't take long for him to get mad about it, why instead of the pillow, it couldn't be that pretty mouth of yours? That pretty plump, pink lips of yours? Damn, the way that it would fit perfectly around his cock.

Or even better, what if he can use that pretty pussy of yours? He can bet that your pussy it's just pretty as you.

Without even noticing, his hands slipped through his pants, his fingers rubbing the tip of his hard cock. And he can already feel the considerable amount of pre-cum sliding down on this dick, messing his thighs on the process.

When he felt what he was doing, he stopped himself, thinking about how wrong it was. No, it was too dirty to do that while you were beside him.

He breathed heavily, trying to focus on getting his composure back. He got his phone, and started to scroll it, praying that this give him some sleep, so he can just close his eyes and rest, even if he doubt that he's going to be able to sleep this night.

A couple of minutes later, he felt a bit more calm, taking deep breaths and trying his best to not think about you. But when he turned to your side, his mouth fell open, eyes widening at the sight.

There you were, laying on your stomach, your dress was now at your waist, giving him a perfect angle of your bare ass cheeks. His mind goes wild, seeing how round and plump they're.

And then again, he felt his cock hardening, so damn hard that he can see it through the sheets.

"Fuck me.." He murmured, drooling at the magnificent sight of your bare ass.

His hands trembled, and he was willing to at least give a squeeze on that ass, he can't control himself. It was such a hot sin in front of him.

And well, before he even realized his hand was on his cock, palming himself to get some relieve.

His another hand roaming in your arms, gently caressing it. He can't believe how much he gets aroused only by such a simple touch like this. He felt your soft skin under his fingertips, and it was so damn smooth.

You shivered at his touch, even if you were sleeping, just one involuntary action. As if even when you were sleeping, you still wanted his touch.

He couldn't help, letting out a soft whimper while he was jerking off, feeling so excited over you. He can't contain himself, too much for him.

Finally, his hands reached your lower back, and he started to play with the waistband of your panties, wanting to desperately feel what's underneath.

Slipping his hand down further, he gets to touch your ass cheek. Dragging his fingers over it, rubbing and giving little squeezes. Feeling the soft flesh of your ass.

And shit, he felt so turned on by that. Cock twitching and pulsing on his hand, he's sure that once he come, it's going to be a thick,long load. He's more than sure of it.

You stirred, shifting your ass a bit more up, stretching yourself a bit, soon turning back to your normal position.

And then again, Leon whimpered, hand dangerously close to your covered pussy, fingers roaming eagerly your ass, wavering around each centimeter.

That purked little cunt, that he desperately wants to suck and lick until you're begging him to stop. That little cunt that he wants to fuck over and over, and fill it up with his cum. 

In an impulsive thought, his hands slide to your already wet folds, not touching it directly. The tip of his indicator finger stroking it above your soaked panties, and he was whining so damn much right now.

He keeps telling himself that this is wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this. But hell, if is this bad, why you're so fucking wet? There is no way that you didn't want this, too.

The way that you started to rub your thighs together, pressing them against each other so tightly. This was the bit of sight that he needed, and well, he would keep going.

He kept stroking his cock with one hand,  he was trying his best to not cum that fast, but he can't help it. When he entered his finger on you, feeling your tight wet walls sucking him in, he whined loudly, more than he should.

Words can't describe how relieved he felt knowing that you were a deep sleeper this night, maybe from the tiredness along with the fact that you were a bit drunk. Enough to knock you down on this bed.

Then again he slipped another finger, whimpering at the sensation of your tight little cunt. Wanting so bad that it was his cock instead.

His fingers started to grind you, moving at a slow and steady pace. Feeling your gummy and velvety walls embrace him tightly.

"Mhm.." There it was, your sweet voice moaning at his touch.

You started to stir, drowsy opening your eyes. Your eyes nervously darts around, while Leon look at you with a soft smile, as if he wasn't doing anything. But you could clearly feel how hot it was between your legs, you could feel your fluids dripping down your thighs.

Too bad you were too tired to protest, not that you were against it either. Not least because as soon as you realized what he was doing, you swung your hips towards him, thrusting in a way that made what he was doing easier.

Another sweet whimper escapes his lips, his fingers start to move faster. In and out, curving around and hitting your sweet spots. By then, you were buried in the pillow, letting out sleepy cries and moans, and that made him even hornier.

Just seeing that you accepted him even though you were in such a vulnerable state made him lose his mind easily. And without waiting long, he asked you, "Do you want me to rock you?"

It seemed like an innocent proposal at first, not that you were in the best state of mind.

But all you did was nod, wanting him to rock you to sleep. He quickly withdrew his fingers from you, making you whimper at the emptiness you felt.

He licked his fingers, savoring the taste of your sweet honey. And indeed it was just as he imagined, you were as sweet and delicious as honey.

And then he pulled you to him, your back against his chest, one of his hands finding your hips, pushing them forward a little.

In one swift movement, he shoved his cock into you. With one strong, deep thrust, he was all the way inside you.

Only now did you understand what he meant, it wasn't a proposal to go to sleep.

He was going to rock into you.

"Mhmh, Leon..." You moan softly, your fingers curling into the pillow.

"Shh, I'll put you to sleep." He whispers in a little whimper, feeling overwhelmed by the way your pussy nestled his cock so well.

This was better than you imagined, him thrusting gently while holding you by the waist, moving in and out.

He whimpered so much, it was so good the way your spongy walls gripped him, pulled him in.

The poor thing was so needy that he couldn't stop touching you, kissing your neck, biting and licking the soft skin.

Just as he stroked your clit from time to time, only to feel your little hole clench around him.

"I'm close." You moaned a little louder, your nails sinking into the pillow.

He growled in your ear, squeezing your waist and thrusting in without warning. He knew he was close too, and surely he couldn't wait to come inside you, to fill you with his cum until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to fill you up, until my cum starts leaking out." He murmurs, rocking his hips at an abnormal speed. Moving back and forth without stopping.

"Mhmhmm, ah, ah..." You babble, not even making the effort to speak a single sentence.

"Getting fucking drunk on that cock, aren't you?" He groans, thrusting into your weak spot, making you see stars every time.

Enough for you to fall apart, calling his name again and again, your walls slapping against his cock, spilling everything you had to offer.

That was the last straw for him too, you could feel the first spurts inside you. And just as he imagined, it was a long load, he can see it running down your wet folds. He gives you a satisfied smile, seeing what he's wanted to see for ages.

You were breathing heavily, your lips parted, and your eyes closed. He was almost in the same state, except he was wide awake.

He kisses your cheek, pulling the covers over you both, not even bothering to clean up around here.

"Sleep well, sweetheart." He whispers, tucking you into the same big spoon position.

Giving you a tight hug and light kisses on the neck, and that's how it went until you both fell asleep.

Being honest? He couldn't wait for the next day, because he was going to do it all over again.

Oh, how he would.