#it contrast with how he acted seconds before

[bootmilk]

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . boothill’s punishment. smut . sheノher — x reader ノ mentions biting . muzzle . surprise sex ノ rough sex ノ mild degradation . overstim ノ blocking minors and blank or ageless blogs…

Boothill was sulking.

It was an unnatural sight—he wasn’t the type to sulk, he was the type to sink his teeth in and make you beg him to stop. But now? Now he was sitting in the corner of the room, arms crossed over the jagged metal of his torso, the muzzle strapped tight around the lower half of his face, muffling every irritated grumble he let out.

He had been biting too much. Not just playful nips, not just teasing grazes—no, deep bites, ones that lingered in bruised purples and swollen reds, teeth marks that ached whenever you moved. He was part machine, but his jaw strength was all human, and he loved to use it on you, loved to claim you in a way that left undeniable evidence across your skin.

So you’d had to put the muzzle on him.

And now he was pissed.

His dark eyes followed your every movement, burning with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t speak much to begin with, but now, deprived of his ability to sink his teeth into you, he was even quieter, save for the occasional irritated huff, the muffled curses spilling out behind the metal.

Every now and then, you’d catch his fingers twitching, like he was resisting the urge to rip the thing off and lunge at you. He was glaring, sulking, grumbling like a caged animal.

You ignored him.

Mostly.

Because as much as you acted unaffected, the way he stared at you—like he was planning revenge, like he was waiting for the moment he could get his hands on you—had heat curling low in your stomach.

But you didn’t give in.

Not until later.

Not until he got the drop on you.

You hadn’t expected him to move so fast.

One moment, you were walking down the dimly lit hallway of the hideout, and the next, you were pinned.

Your back slammed against the wall, and the sound of it echoed—a sharp clank of metal on metal, because Boothill wasn’t just flesh and blood. His body was cold steel, heavy and unyielding where it pressed against yours, trapping you.

The muzzle was gone.

How had he—

Your thoughts shattered when his hand gripped your jaw, tight, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were alight with something dangerous, something hungry, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with barely restrained rage.

“You think you can put me in a goddamn muzzle?” he growled, voice rough and jagged like the edges of his cybernetic plating. “Think you can keep me from you?”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your legs, because you knew that tone.

You knew what was coming.

He didn’t give you time to answer.

His mouth crashed against yours, sharp teeth grazing your bottom lip—not biting, teasing, as if to remind you of exactly what he could be doing if you hadn’t forced that muzzle on him. His hands were rough, metal fingers digging into your thighs as he hoisted you up, pressing you higher against the wall, making you gasp.

“You took somethin’ from me,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark, almost mocking. “Now I’m takin’ somethin’ from you.”

And then he slammed into you.

No warning, no teasing—just one brutal, punishing thrust that forced a cry from your throat, stretching you, filling you to the point of near pain. His cock was thick, hard, unforgiving, just like the rest of him, and he didn’t give you a second to adjust before he moved.

Every thrust hit, forcing you higher up the wall, making your head fall back with a broken gasp. The sharp edges of his cybernetic abs dragged against your bare skin, sending jolts of sensation through you, the contrast of human heat and cold metal making you shudder.

He was ruining you.

Just like he wanted.

“Shoulda never put that damn thing on me,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pounded into you, each thrust harder than the last, making you feel every inch of him, making you pay for keeping him away.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but take it, your nails raking against the hard plating of his shoulders, finding no purchase, no softness. Just steel, just power.

Boothill owned you in that moment.

And he knew it.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice nothing but a low, dangerous drawl.

“I’ll put my mark on you again,” he murmured, thrusting deep, making you choke on a moan. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

And fuck—if he kept going like this, you never would.

[crescenthistory]

Hey Carina congratulations on 2k!! Such a wonderful milestone for a even more wonderful writer I'm happy for you it's more than well deserved

Perhaps I can ask for an Argue? I thought of the prompt 6 from List B the Bookshop AU with Regulus and muggle reader just for the twist inside Reggie's brain baby definetly doesn't know how to act around muggles but is smitten by reader at first sight

thank you so so much my love<33 you're an angel

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i will ARGUE for prompt 6 "bookshop au" with regulus black

carina's 2k celebration

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cw: fem!reader, use of y/n, muggle!reader, references to walburga and orion's great parenting (abuse + discrimination), shy!regulus, implied overstimulation, exposure therapy

wc: 1.3k

Sirius insisted that part of deconstructing everything they had been taught growing up was emerging yourself in the muggle world.

While Regulus thought that logic was sound when they were sitting in his living room, talking everything through over a glass of wine, he most decidedly did not think so anymore. He was taking his first stroll down a strictly muggle street in Central London and though he would not admit it, he was beyond stressed and overwhelmed. 

He kept overthinking, second-guessing everything he did and whether it would give him away too much, hand constantly itching for his wand. Regulus felt naked, exposed, and was two seconds away from tucking tail and running back home to Sirius to promptly tell him exactly what he thought of this plan.

It was something he had never thought much of before as he would always just spell away any annoying sounds, but the noise level around him was deafening to the point where it genuinely hurt. Becoming increasingly desperate to get away from the sound and hide in a corner where he could apparate without being seen, Regulus began scouting for a place to hide. An alleyway, a quiet shop – anything.

When a wooden sign stood out to him in the sea of neon lights, with something scribbled about books, he knew he had found the spot. 

Sidestepping the many strangers in his path, Regulus reached for the narrow door and pushed it open, all but clambering into the space.

The bookshop was a stark contrast to the outside world, to his relief seeming more like something he might find in Diagon Alley than Oxford Street. There were small glowing orbs on grey wire strung up around the ceiling to soften the light, all the furniture was wooden and dark, and several plants decorated the space to liven it up.

At the very back, past all the beautifully decorated shelves, was a desk that he currently saw only a tuft of hair poking up from behind. On instinct, Regulus took a step closer to see what it was when the person rose back up to their full height, holding at least five books in their arms.

“Oh!” you exclaimed as you saw him, nearly losing all the books you were holding. He jumped too, clearly not having expected to see someone, despite being the one fleeing into your shop. “So sorry, darling, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Regulus tried to get his vocal chords working again. “That’s quite alright, my apologies.”

You waved him off with one hand as you rounded your little till to walk up to a semi-full shelf and begin putting the books into it. “No apologies needed around here. What can I do for you, love?”

Your voice was so melodic, almost lilting through your sentence as if you and Regulus were old friends, as if you knew him. He wondered how that was even possible, if you could be a witch in disguise using legilimency on him.

When you turned your head to look at his awestruck expression with an entertained smile, he realised that was certainly not the case — and that he had yet to answer your question.

“Sorry, no, I, uh–” Regulus had to stop himself to gather his thoughts, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose a bit abashedly. “No, sorry, it’s just my first time in this… neighbourhood and I got a bit overwhelmed by all the noise.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the treacherous, big and confusing world outside.

You pressed your lips together as you smiled, almost as if you were holding back an even bigger one. You nodded in complete understanding. “It’s rowdy at this time of day, even for us seasoned veterans.” You kept talking as you walked around your shop, fetching a ladder to fix something at the top of the shelf he stood by. “You are more than welcome to hide away in here with me, no pressure.”

Part of Regulus was terrified at the thought of being alone in a room with a muggle that he had to keep this huge secret from – it was different than with Ted, because at least he knew about magic by the time Regulus met him. You had no idea and the thought really messed with his head. More importantly though, part of Regulus was terrified at your offer because you were painfully pretty and he was too much of a stumbling mess to be trusted around you right now.

Yet a simple glance over his shoulder told him that there was no way he was heading back out there right away. 

With a sigh and his slumping shoulders, he resigned himself to his fate. He closed his eyes in defeat for a few second before turning them back on you, accompanied by a small and probably shy smile. “I would really like that, thank you…”

“Y/N,” you supplied at his pause. “And it’s no problem, it’s usually during rush hours that I have the most time to kill anyway. Those who head out for books are usually the ones wishing to avoid that chaos.” You gave him a knowing wink as you climbed back down the ladder and stowed it away in favour of bringing out a paper box filled with more books.

“You… this is what you do?” Regulus asked as he took in the place, almost in awe. “You get to just spend every day surrounded by books?”

You looked at him with a curious smile, almost as if he asked a very obvious question. “Yes, it’s quite neat, isn’t it? I organise the shelves and various seasonal collections, I dust and keep everything clean and I sell books to passerbys. There’s much worse gigs to land.”

“Sounds like kind of a dream, actually.” He had never seen a bookshop that wasn’t kept running mostly by magic. Watching you unload the books yourself and organise them, floating around the small shop with an inherent elegance was magical in itself. “I assume you’re a reader, then?”

Finally a topic he might be a bit more steady on. Until this, his only interactions with the muggle world had been through its literature. As he scanned the shelves while you worked around him, he saw various titles and names he recognised. He basked in the atmosphere of them, in how this was going quite well despite his previous shaking fear. 

You laughed heartily. “Of course, I think that has to be part of the application you send in. I trust you’re the same?”

You gestured vaguely to Regulus, presumably making some comment on how he was dressed. He didn’t quite have the muggle social cues to decipher it, so he just smiled nervously and nodded. “Yes, though I have mostly only read classics. You know, old philosophers and the like. I would like to expand my taste.”

Upon that comment, you stopped in your work to lean against a bookshelf and study him. A small smile was sneaking around your lips. “I never did ask you your name.”

“It’s Regulus. Regulus Black.”

Any hope that you might have been a witch disappeared when the name invoked no response in your face. Yet, Regulus was finding that so far, it really was no huge problem that you were a muggle. There was still some connection to be found, and you most certainly were not any of the words leftover from Walburga rattling in his brain.

“Well, then, Regulus,” you drawled with your gaze happily trained on him. “Care to have your taste expanded today?”

There was no hesitation in his smile. “I would love to.”

You had no idea to what degree that sentiment rang true for him.

[leconcombrerit]

About Por

This episode focuses a great deal on how the boys felt about the situation ; it emphasizes Jin's guilt and anger, Fluke's fear for himself and himself only, and Tee's guilty conscience (no wonder he's the most scared of all in the current timeline if that's how Non disappeared). Not that it keeps him from enjoying their little success. We get close to nothing on Top, as usual.

But we get a few things on Por. I don't think he cares about whatever happened to Non. It's been established that only being impaled on a branch and slowly bleeding out had the power to make him feel anything about him anyway.

He looks to be proud of himself ; after all, he got what he wanted. The movie is a hit, Non's name was written out in favor of his, his parents, his father especially, are proud and finally acknowledging him. And yet...

I would gif the entire scene if I could, cause damn if he doesn't go through a face journey. Victory doesn't taste as sweet as you thought it would, Por ? Is being acknowledged for something you didn't do iffy ? Does it feel bad to realize that your father would think Non more deserving to be his son than you ? Is it bitter to know that you'll always have to be a fraud to get his love ?

Now I'm not defending him. His father loathed the way Por used his money and social status to get everything done instead of putting in the work, and what did Por do to fix it ? He used his money and social status to get the movie done instead of putting in the work. And I think, I hope, that this little moment above is when he started to realize it.

It's not his moment, and he knows it.

[bioethicists]

something i constantly struggle with as a psych survivor is that "self-improvement" or "self-care" were utilized as punishment in adolescent psych treatment. "you self-harmed, fill out this worksheet about it" "we will be kicking you out unless you agree to use three skills before using behavior" "you spoke out of turn in group, go sit alone in the room for hours for self-reflection + write a plan as to how you are going to reintegrate into the community"

it wasn't collaborative; it was imposed. it wasn't curious about my needs; it was imposing their vision of how they wanted me to behave. it wasn't about addressing my pain; it was about addressing specific things i did with that pain which were deemed undesirable.

in contrast, self-destruction was routinely a way to act against power + authority that were causing me to feel belittled, unloved, trapped. finding ways to self injure when every second of my life was monitored. finding ways to use 'coping mechanisms' against themselves as ways to harm myself. cultivating self-hatred because i knew that's what i wasn't supposed to be doing + i needed to rebel against the people telling me what i was supposed to do (this rebellion is sacred, btw).

now, as an adult, taking care of myself still feels like something i'm Supposed to Do under Penalty of Punishment, while self-destructing still feels like resistance + freedom. self-destruction feels like a precious thing that proves that i belong to myself + self-compassion feels like people trying to take away that belonging.

anyway. kill the psychiatrist inside you but be mindful of the terrified child he created who is still bloodying their nails on the insides of the asylum walls.

[scarletdreamers]

Can we, for a second, think about the fact that Hannibal dressed Will before he carried him home through the snow?

Will is naked when he's about to get the face surgery from Cordell. We see a scene of him in the operation chair where he's shirtless, lower body covered by a hospital blanket. Hannibal, who cut himself free from the ropes that were holding him captive on Muskrat farm, who then killed a large sum of Mason's staff including trained security and surgeons, saves him before Will's face gets removed. This all happens off-screen. The next scene is Hannibal carrying Will (bridal style) through the snow. In this scene Will is dressed, including a jacket for the cold and all that. Imagine Hannibal, the violent beast we saw when he killed Mason's men, blood probably still on his hands, finding Will there. Unconscious, and then dressing him. Dressing someone is a very intimate thing, especially someone unconscious. It requires care and gentleness. That, and knowing how to handle a body and loving someone enough to dress them while they don't need to be. He buttoned his buttons for him, tied his shoes, put him in a jacket to make sure he wouldn't get cold - I mean, Hannibal himself doesn't even wear a jacket in that scene. There's blood and wounds all over Hannibal's face, he's exhausted and probably the one in the most physical danger, yet he takes care of Will before he takes care of himself.

This hits even harder if you think about why they ended up in Muskrat farm in the first place. In Florence, Hannibal tried to 'eat' Will. He tried to split his head open with a bone saw. That intense violence, the grotesque and desperate nature of those actions makes a perfect and sharp contrast to him saving Will after outside forces try to take their lives, which is a heroically gentle and intimate action. He didn't have to dress him up like that, he didn't have to carry him that way, but he did. Hannibal fails to kill Will in Florence, and with that he fails his last attempt to get rid of his feelings for Will. Or at least, to make his feelings bearable. He thinks that he can control himself better when Will is dead, so he tries to kill him but he fails. Not because he's stopped, but simply because he can't do it. If Hannibal wanted him dead, Will would have been dead. Mason's men only interrupted his theatrics. They gave him a reason to put away the saw and act like it was purely their fault, but then Will is in danger at the farm and Hannibal does everything in his power to save him and get him home safe and well. At home he takes off his jacket, literally lays him in bed and tucks him in. He covers Will with a blanket, he tries to write mathematical formulas to reverse time and cleans his wounds. That's why Will's rejection when he wakes up is so tragic and hard to watch. It breaks Hannibal, unbreakable and inhuman Hannibal Lecter. It simply hurts him enough to break his heart. It breaks him enough to give up everything he ever lived for and surrender to the FBI, which he spent a lifetime running from. He does this because when he decided to save Will, he realised he would never get over the things he felt for him. In Hannibal's mind, the worst thing that can happen is never seeing Will again. He finally realised that, after everything, and that's why he surrenders to the FBI.

Hannibal honey, you don't want to eat his brain. You just wanted him to love you.

It's subtle details like this that always stick to me afterwards. It's just another thought I had and I felt like sharing.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[verstappenverse]

Revved Up

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max grows jealous after your Instagram post attracts unwanted attention, including from an ex.

Authors Note: Do I actually believe Max posts on his own instagram these days... let alone would post with a 'scandalous' caption...no? but this is fiction so it's all good 😂

1.4k words / Masterlist

Max was sitting on the plush leather couch in your shared Monaco apartment, flipping through TV channels with all the enthusiasm of a man waiting for a commercial break. He glanced at the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the stunning Mediterranean view, but even that wasn’t enough to distract him. It wasn’t the usual race strategy or upcoming practice sessions that had him restless—it was something far more personal.

You.

More specifically the photo you had posted on Instagram earlier that day, a simple mirror selfie, a little scandalous but nothing crazy. You looked radiant, sure, but that was normal for you. You were always beautiful to him. What had caught his eye was the flood of comments, the notifications popping up every few seconds as he scrolled through your post.

He kept scrolling eyes narrowing as the likes kept ticking upwards. Then he saw it.

Your ex.

The guy who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that you were Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, because clearly he didn't see an issue with leaving a flirty comment that set Max’s nerves on edge.

'Looking gorgeous as always' it read, with an obnoxious little winking emoji at the end.

Max’s fingers tightened around the remote as the thought of some guy—especially your ex—thinking he had any right to compliment you in that way made his blood boil. You were his. The world knew it, but apparently some people needed reminding.

He didn’t say anything when you had walked into the living room earlier, cheerfully oblivious to his growing annoyance. Instead he had kept quiet, but now it was simmering just under the surface. Jealousy wasn’t a feeling Max was used to; on the track he was calm, confident, but when it came to you, his cool, collected exterior faltered. Especially when some idiot tried to act like he still had a chance.

You entered the room now wearing a loose sweatshirt and leggings, a casual look that contrasted with the glamorous image you had posted earlier. Max glanced at you his jaw tightening, you could sense something was off.

“Max, is everything okay?” you asked, tilting your head as you grabbed your phone from the counter. You didn’t even have to unlock it before he spoke.

“That picture,” he said abruptly, his Dutch accent thicker than usual, which tended to only happen when his emotions were running high. His fingers tapped on the arm of the couch in an impatient rhythm.

You furrowed your brow. “What about it?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and you could see the tension in his posture. “Your ex commented on it.”

“Oh,” you said, blinking in surprise. You hadn’t noticed.“I didn’t even see that.”

Max didn’t like the idea of you looking at that idiot’s comment again, but you opened the app and scrolled down anyway finding the offending message almost immediately.

You rolled your eyes and let out a light laugh. “Seriously? He’s such a loser. I haven’t talked to him in forever.”

Max didn’t seem to find it as amusing as you did. His frown deepened. “Yeah, well, he still thinks he can leave comments like that. Like I’m not here.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his grumpy tone. “What, are you jealous?”

His reaction was immediate. “Jealous? Me? No...” He paused. “I mean... you know how many people liked that picture?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by how serious he looked. “Max, it’s just Instagram, I think the point is to like pictures," you laughed, but his expression didn't change,"Max come on it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, though he still sounded more irritated than actually angry. “Everyone’s drooling over you in the comments. And then there’s him.”

You couldn't help chuckling again and slid onto the couch next to him, pressing your hand against his knee. “Are you worried someone’s going to steal me away?”

He gave you a look, his lips twitching upwards at the edges, betraying the smallest hint of a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re being ridiculous.” You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his cheek.

Max sighed dramatically throwing his head back against the cushions. “Maybe I should just post a picture with you, remind people who you belong to.”

“Oh, who I belong to?” you teased, poking him playfully in the ribs. “That sounds a little possessive.”

There was a teasing glint in his eye now, but you could still feel the underlying jealousy. “Can you blame me?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, enjoying how worked up he was getting over something so trivial. Seeing him this riled up over some stupid comment was kind of… adorable. You kind of loved when he got all possessive, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

“No, I guess I can’t blame you,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But you know I don’t care about those comments, right? Especially not from my ex. I didn’t even notice it.”

“Maybe you should block him,” Max muttered back to sounding grumpy.

You laughed again, unable to stop yourself. “Max it’s fine, if it’ll make you feel better of course I’ll block him. But I need you to know I never think about him.”

He softened a little at that, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders. “You better not.”

You smiled, nuzzling into him the warmth of his body calming. “Besides, none of those guys commenting are Max Verstappen now are they?”

“Exactly,” Max said, and there was that cocky smile you loved so much. The mood lightened as his fingers brushed through your hair. “None of them stand a chance.”

You grinned up at him. “And neither does my ex, so you can relax.”

He seemed to settle after that, his hand lazily stroking your arm as the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Good. But still…”

“Still what?”

“I think I should post a picture with you. Just to make sure everyone knows.”

You snorted. “You just want an excuse to show off.”

“Can you blame me?” he repeated, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for his phone. “Come on, one picture. Let me remind everyone you’re mine.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. Just one.”

Max scrolled through his phone finding the perfect shot of you two together arms wrapped around each other, he quickly typed out a caption and hit ‘post.’ Not long after, your phone buzzed with notifications. His fans were quick, already liking and commenting on the post.

You glanced at it over his shoulder, chuckling at the caption: Just a reminder—she’s mine.

“Oh my God Max,” you groaned playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “What? It’s true.”

You laughed and shook your head, leaning into him once more. “You really are something.”

“I know,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And don’t you forget it.”

The rest of the evening passed in a much lighter mood. The TV hummed in the background, but neither of you paid much attention to it. Instead, you spent the time teasing Max about his jealous streak, much to his dismay.

“You know I never thought I’d see the day when Max Verstappen got jealous over a social media comment,” you teased, curling up beside him on the couch.

He rolled his eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “I’m not jealous. I’m just… protective.”

“Sure, that’s what we’ll call it.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little jealous,” he admitted, pulling you closer. “You’re kind of amazing.”

You beamed up at him, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “Well good thing I’m all yours, huh?”

“Good thing,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss you, slow and sweet. When he pulled away, he added kiddingly “What about, no more selfies without me in them.”

You laughed and nudged him playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

But deep down, you didn’t mind the way Max was with you. The way he got protective, a little possessive, and sometimes even a little jealous. Max was known as a fierce competitor on the track, but when it came to you, his heart felt just as fierce, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[aeralux]

"Freak On a Leash" - Aemond Targaryen

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: So what if you're fucking the weird dude? He has good dick game. But how were you supposed to know he gets attached easily?

Warnings: SMUT (18+); (pretty rough) car sex; oral (f!receiving); name calling (slut, whore etc); dark!Aemond near the end; hair pulling; choking; ass slapping; mentions of violence and blood

Words: 5.5k

Notes: No description of the reader. This was just going to be porn without a plot... but ofc I had to add some plot smh. This isn't dark dark, but it does contain some of the elements of it so... do not read it if you are not comfortable with that

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

He was weird, unsettling, and genuinely offputting. That's why your friends were baffled to know that you were fucking him multiple times a week, in the backseat of his car, no less. "He has good dick," you tried to tell them, saying it was worth it. But your words fell on deaf ears as none of them understood. Why him?

With long hair dyed black with a cheap store colour and a run-down 2005 Volvo S40, he didn't seem the kind of guy who could fuck a girl until her throat was raw. But you knew the truth. That's why you kept coming back, time after time.

So it was no surprise that, once again, you found yourself in his lap. In the backseat of his car, kissing and moaning, his hard cock pressing into your aching core.

"Blood?" You ask as you taste copper on your tongue when kissing his jaw. 

"Don't act like you don't find that hot," he grunted, a smug expression on his face. It's probably because whoever he fought, lost.

You smiled playfully, your lips brushing against his once more, caught in a moment where admitting he was right felt like submitting. The warmth between you grew, leaving just the two of you.

He tangled his fingers in your hair for a second before shifting his attention downward, fumbling with the delicate fabric of your flimsy top. The skin-tight shirt clung to your curves, resisting his attempts as if it had a will of its own. Frustration flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by determination as he continued to work his way around the stubborn material.

"Just rip it open for fuck's sake," you groan as he fumbles with your skin-tight white top. Your hips instinctively roll on top of his, ruining your cute white cotton panties with your juices.

Aemond groans deeply at your words. With a quick, decisive motion, he rips the fabric open, the sound of the tear deafening. Your black lacy bra is revealed, the delicate lace a stark contrast to his rough, calloused hands as they cup your breasts.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the thin lace. "Gonna fucking wreck you."

He leans in, his hot mouth latching onto one nipple through the bra as his other hand slides down to rub your clit through your soaked panties. He groans against your skin at the wetness he finds there, the sound vibrating through you.

Oh gods, you are so fucking wet for him. You can feel your arousal soaking through the thin cotton, staining it with your desperation. You grind harder against the rigid bulge straining against his jeans, needing more friction, and more contact.

"So fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers pushing the fabric aside to delve between your folds. "Gonna make you come so hard."

You roll your hips harder against Aemond's bulge, your clit throbbing with every grind. Your skirt hangs loosely around your waist, resembling more of a belt.

"Fuck, these songs suck ass," you grumbled, reaching for Aemond's phone and scrolling through his playlists until you find something more to your liking. The change in music elicits a growl from Aemond, but you just smirk and lean in close, your lips brushing his jaw. The bass line of Rob Zombie's "Dragula" thumps through the car, a perfect complement to the nasty thoughts running through your mind.

"Okay, now you can fuck me," you giggle, your teeth grazing his skin before you soothe the sting with your tongue. You can taste the salt of his sweat, the copper tang of blood - a reminder of the fight he must have been in. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

"Who the fuck did you fight this time?" You ask, your voice low and husky with desire. But even as you speak, your focus is on the delicious friction between your legs, the way Aemond's hard length rubs against your aching core with every roll of your hips.

"Fucking some new guy, thought he could take me," Aemond growls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds up against you. "Taught him a lesson real quick."

He leans in, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he speaks. "He won't be coming back anytime soon. Not after the way I shattered his ribs." His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down harder onto his cock.

"Now, quit talking and start begging for it," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear. He places a few light smacks on your cheek, making you smile at the lewd actions.

You shake your head, a wide smile spreading across your face as your eyes lose focus. The depravity of the situation, the dingy car, the smell of sweat and sex, it all makes you even wetter. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"You know I don't beg," you whisper, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you suck on it gently. Your teeth graze the sensitive skin, making him groan.

Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. He sounds almost angry as he growls, "You'd better fucking start, or I'll stop right here."

"Fuck," you whimper as his bulge nudges against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your brows furrow, your eyes squeezed shut as you grind down harder, seeking more of that delicious friction.

To emphasize his point, he stills his hips, denying you the friction you crave. His other hand moves from your breast to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Please, Aemond," you moan, your voice breaking with need. "Fuck me. Use me. Make me forget everything but your cock inside me."

Aemond's eyes darken with lust at your words, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "That's more like it," he purrs, his grip on your throat relaxing just slightly. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss.

"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his free hand moving down to grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulls you down hard, grinding his clothed cock against your aching cunt.

"Gonna make you scream for me," he growls, his other hand moving from your throat to tangle in your hair. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his teeth grazing your skin.

His hips are moving now, grinding up against you in a filthy rhythm. The rough denim of his jeans rubs against your sensitive clit. You can feel the heat of him through the fabric, the hard length of his cock straining against his zipper.

You moan sluttily, desperate, shameless noises filling his car. You're too far gone to care about your pride. Impatiently, you tug the cups of your bra down, exposing your hardened nipples to the cool air. They're almost painfully sensitive, aching to be sucked.

"Suck," you command, your voice low and demanding. You arch your back, offering your breasts to him like a sacrificial lamb.

Aemond's eyes darken at your demand, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so you think you're in charge here, do you?" he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.

You gasp at the sharp pain, your eyes watering. "I think you need to be put in your place, slut," he sneers, his other hand roughly palming your breast.

He leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed nipple. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, your pride fading due to your desperate need. "Please," you whimper, your voice small and needy. "Suck my tits, I need it so bad."

Aemond chuckles darkly, his teeth grazing your nipple. "That's more like it," he growls before his mouth envelops the sensitive bud.

You cry out, your back arching as he suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak. The pleasure is intense, bordering on pain, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you moan, your hand moving to the back of his head, trying to push him closer. But he pulls away, shaking his head.

"Hands off," he commands, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

You whimper, your hand falling away. "Sorry," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with shame.

Aemond just smirks, his hand moving to your other breast, roughly squeezing the soft flesh. "Good girl," he purrs, before diving back in, his mouth hot and wet on your aching nipple.

You moan, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you taste good," he growls against your skin, his hand moving to pinch and roll your other nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations make you cry out, your back arching as you press yourself further into his touch.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the damp flesh. You whimper at the loss, your body craving more of his touch. "That's better," he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "You know your place."

Aemond's hand moves from your hair to your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you senseless?"

Your heart races, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Aemond's hand tightens around your throat. The lack of oxygen only adds to the haze of lust clouding your mind. You nod frantically, your eyes wide and pleading.

"Yes, yes, I'll be good," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's lips curve into a wicked grin against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Fuck, you're so desperate for it, aren't you?" he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hip, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

He grinds up against you, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your aching clit. The friction is delicious, but not nearly enough. You need more. You need him inside you, stretching you, filling you.

"Yes, fuck yes, I'm desperate for it," you pant, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me, Aemond. I love it when you use me."

Aemond chuckles darkly, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Fuck, you're such a dirty little slut," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your hair instead. He yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry mouth.

"Gonna fucking ruin you," he promises, his teeth grazing your skin. "Gonna make you scream for me."

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans. He yanks your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with lust, filled with the depravity to come.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for days," he promises, his hand moving from your hair to grip your throat again. He squeezes, cutting off your air supply just for a moment before releasing.

You gasp, your lungs burning for oxygen. But even then you still smile at him, biting your lip.

Aemond's eyes darken at the sight, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growls, his hand releasing your throat to grip your ass hard enough to bruise. "A sight for sore eyes," he smirks, looking into your glossy eyes.

"Shit, I need to eat you out first," he groans, his jeans pressing down painfully on his throbbing cock.

He slides off the seat, kneeling between your legs as he slides your panties to the side impatiently. The scent of your arousal is thick in the air, making his cock throb with need. The cool air hits your aching cunt, making you shiver.

"Fuck, you smell incredible," he growls, his hot breath ghosting over your slick folds. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at your clit, making you cry out.

He groans at the taste of you, his tongue delving deeper, licking through your folds and fucking into your entrance. He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue moving in and out, his lips sucking on your clit.

His fingers delving between your folds. He brings them up to your lips, pressing them against your mouth. "Taste how fucking desperate you are for me."

You open your mouth obediently, sucking his fingers into your mouth. The taste of your arousal explodes on your tongue, musky and sweet. You moan around his fingers, your tongue licking and sucking, cleaning them of your juices.

Aemond's eyes darken with lust as he watches you suck his fingers clean, your tongue swirling around the digits. He growls low in his throat, his free hand moving to grip your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this," he growls, his fingers popping out of your mouth.

He gets back up, leaving you unsatisfied and annoyed.

He grabs your hair, forcing your head back and making you look up at him. His eyes are dark with lust, his jaw clenched as he battles for control.

"Strip," he commands, his voice low and dangerous. "I want you fucking naked, now."

You scramble to obey, yanking your bra off, your breasts bouncing free, nipples hard and aching for his touch. Your miniskirt and panties are next, puddled on the floor of the car, leaving you bare and exposed.

"Shit, you look so good," Aemond growls, his eyes raking over your naked form. "I almost don't even want to ruin you... almost"

He flips you on your hands and knees, pushing your head down, forcing your ass in the air, holes completely exposed to him. He yanks you forward, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Brace yourself, slut," he growls, grinding his clothed cock against your bare pussy. "Gonna fucking wreck you." 

You crane your neck to look back at Aemond, a scoff leaving your lips. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," you mock, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

His eyes darken at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh, I'll take more than just a picture, baby," he promises, his hand coming down on your ass in a sharp smack.

You gasp at the sting, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Promises, promises," you taunt, wiggling your ass invitingly. "You talk a big game, but I bet you can't even get it half hard."

Aemond's grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, you're so goddamn cocky," he snarls. "Gonna shut that smart mouth of yours."

You moan at the contact, your head falling forward as you push your ass back against him. "Big talk, dickhead," you pant, your voice breathy with need. "Let's see what you've got."

Aemond responds to your taunts with a sharp smack to your ass, the sound echoing in the confined space of the car. "Fuck, you're asking for it," he growls, his hand coming down again, harder this time.

You gasp, your ass jiggling from the impact. "Shit, you're making a mess of me," you whine, wiggling your hips. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be filled.

"That's the idea, slut," Aemond grunts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheeks. He spreads them apart, exposing your tight holes to his hungry gaze. "Gonna fucking wreck this tight little ass."

His hands move to his zipper, slowly dragging it down. The sound of the metal seems obscenely loud in the confined space of the car.

He pushes his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, the thick shaft springing up, hard and ready. The head is already slick with precum, the veins along the length pulsing with his heartbeat.

He spits in his palm, rubbing his saliva over his cock, giving it some lubrication. Then he's pressing the tip against your drooling hole, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he groans, pushing forward, the head of his cock breaching your hole. You cry out, the stretch intense, bordering on pain.

"Relax, slut," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass again. "Take that fucking cock like a good whore."

He starts to move, his hips rocking back and forth, inch by inch of his thick shaft sinking into your tight heat. Your walls clench around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn't give you time.

He starts fucking you in earnest, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper with each thrust. The car rocks with the force of his movements, the seat creaking beneath you.

"Fuck, you take it so well," he pants, his hand moving from your ass to grip your hip, holding you in place as he fucks into you. "Gonna fucking ruin this tight ass."

You moan, your hands gripping the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather. The pain in your ass mixes with the pleasure, making your head spin.

"Harder," you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his, desperate for more. "Fuck me harder, shit."

Your juices drip down your thighs, pooling on the leather seat below as Aemond pounds into you.

Your hands grip the seat, nails digging into the cracked leather as you brace yourself for the onslaught. Aemond's hands are everywhere - gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, tugging at your hair. He uses you like a rag doll, fucking you with an animalistic need.

Aemond grunts, his grip on your hips tightening as he complies with your demand. "Fuck, you want it hard, slut?" he growls, his voice strained with effort. "Gonna fucking give it to you."

He pulls nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip inside your stretched hole. Then he slams back in, his hips connecting with your ass with a sharp smack. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you recklessly, the car swaying with his thrusts.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he pants, sweat dripping down his face, his messy black hair sticking to his skin.

You can only moan, your mouth hanging open as you gasp for air. Your breasts bounce with each powerful thrust, your nipples hard and aching for attention.

Aemond's hand moves from your hip to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. He pinches your nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging, sending sparks of pain through your body.

"Fuck, your tits are perfect," he groans, his hand moving to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.

You whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock. The combination of pain and pleasure is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You reach down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The added stimulation makes you see stars, your back arching as you moan.

"Fuck, you're such a dirty girl," Aemond pants. "Getting off on being used like a fucking toy."

"Shit, I'm close," you pant, your nails digging into the leather seat and your fingers moving on your clit. "Don't stop, fuck, don't stop," you moan, your hips bucking back against him, seeking more friction. His fingers rub your clit in tight circles, the pressure building with each stroke.

He pulls your hair, forcing your back to arch, your ass pushing back against him. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"That's it, take it all you little slut," he pants, his hand moving from your tit to your clit, replacing your hand, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," you whimper, your body tensing. "Please, Aemond, please."

"Do it," he commands, his fingers moving faster on your clit. "Come for me like the good little whore you are."

With a cry, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your walls rippling along his shaft.

Aemond groans, his hips stuttering as your orgasm milks his cock. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Where do you want me to spill?"

Your body convulses as the intense orgasm rips through you, your vision blurring and stars bursting behind your eyelids. "On my ass, fuck!" You cry out, the words torn from your throat. "Cum all over my ass!"

You arch your back, pushing your hips against Aemond's, desperate for more. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him.

You can feel his grip on your hips tighten, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the car, mixed with your heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.

Aemond's cock throbs inside you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as your pussy milks him. He growls low in his throat, his hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back.

"Fuck, gonna paint your ass white," he pants, his hips slamming against your ass with bruising force.

He pulls out abruptly, his cock slipping from your clenching hole with a wet sound. You whimper at the loss, your pussy aching to be filled again.

Aemond's hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, the sting making you gasp. "Present yourself," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Wanna see you take my load like a good little whore."

You arch your back even more, spreading your thighs as far as you can in the limited space. Your spasming holes are on full display for his hungry gaze.

Aemond kneels behind you, his cock in his hand, stroking it with quick, rough motions. "Fuck, you're such a good little girl," he pants, his eyes dark with lust as they roam over your body. "Too bad you're such a filthy slut."

He starts to come, his cock jerking in his hand as thick ropes of cum splatter across your ass and pussy. You moan, your fingers dipping between your folds to gather some of his cum, bringing it to your mouth.

"Fuck, look at you," Aemond groans, his hand still working his shaft, milking out every last drop. "Eating my cum like the dirty whore you are."

He collapses next to you on the seat, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him.

"You're fucking perfect," he growls, his eyes intense as they bore into yours. "Mine."

"Mhm," you hum, collapsing onto Aemond's chest, your body spent and sated. The car reeks of sex and sweat, your combined releases staining the seats. It's filthy and sinful, turning you on.

Aemond's arms wrap around you, pulling you close as he strokes your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent, a mix of cologne and sex.

"That was intense," you murmur, your voice low and breathy. "You really know how to fuck a girl stupid."

Aemond chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Fucking right I do," he boasts, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a damn good lay, too. Always so fucking eager for my cock."

He tugs on your hair, forcing your head back to look at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and possessiveness. "You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "This tight little body belongs to me."

"Such a good girl," he praises, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "Gonna keep you."

You smile against his fingers, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Keep me for what?" you tease. "You're not my man. I'm not your's to keep," you whisper, feeling an ache in your heart for some reason.

Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on your chin tightening as he yanks your face closer to his.

His grip on your chin tightened. "The fuck I'm not," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I've had you more times than I can count. I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make when I'm buried inside you."

He shifts, his face mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your lips. "You're mine, whether you admit it or not."

His other hand slides down your body, fingers dipping between your thighs to gather the cum leaking from your abused hole. He brings it to your lips, smearing it across them.

"Look at you, so fucking dirty, so desperate for my cum. You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you know you belong to me."

He crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

When he pulls back, you're panting, your lips swollen and tingling. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm never letting you go."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something else, something you're not quite ready to name.You press your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to steady your breathing.

"I don't belong to anyone," you whisper, but there's no conviction in your voice. "We're just fucking, Aemond. Don't make it more than it is."

Aemond's eyes darken, a flash of anger crossing his face before it's quickly replaced with a predatory smirk. "Just fucking?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Is that what you think this is?"

He sits up, pulling you with him so you're straddling his lap. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he holds you in place.

"We've been doing this for months, baby," he reminds you, his voice rough. "You think I don't know the difference between a quick fuck and what we have?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I know every inch of this body, every fucking sound you make, every way you tremble and writhe when I'm inside you."

"Stop fighting it," he growls, his eyes boring into yours. "You might tell your friends that this means nothing to you, that you think I'm some creepy guy you fuck. Yet you still keep coming back.."

Your breath catches in your throat, his words sending a shiver down your spine. How does he know? You've never told him those things. You shake your head, a strand of hair falling across your face. "No, I've never said that," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I swear."

You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, searching for any sign of deceit. "I wouldn't say those things about you," you insist. "I don't think you're weird."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his grip on your hips tightening until it almost hurts. "Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "I know you talk shit about me to your friends. I know you think I'm some kind of freak."

He leans in, his breath hot against your cheek. "But you keep coming back, don't you? You keep spreading your legs for me, begging me to fuck you like the desperate little slut you are."

His hand moves from your hip to your throat, his thumb brushing over your pulse point. "You can't resist me, can you? No matter how much you try to pretend, your body knows who it belongs to."

He squeezes your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race. "I've heard you, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I've heard you call me a freak, a deviant. But you still come back, letting me use your tight little body for my pleasure."

Your cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment as Aemond's words sink in. You try to pull away from his grip, your naked bodies still intertwined, but his hold is too strong. "Yes, fine. I have said those things about you," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

You search his eyes, trying to find the right words. "Aemond, you fight people. You're dangerous." You say it with a seriousness that misrepresents the thrill that runs through you at the very thought. It's the danger that makes him so appealing.

You sigh, your fingers caressing his face, tracing the strong lines of his jaw. "Must you have such an effect on me?" You mutter, before leaning in to kiss him.

Aemond's lips meet yours in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a fierce intensity. His grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you in place.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily, your lips swollen and stinging from the force of his kiss.

"You fuckin' love it," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "You love the danger, the thrill of being with a man who can break you."

"Admit it," he presses, his voice low and dangerous. "You get off on the fact that I could snap anyone's fucking neck with one hand."

Aemond's grip on your throat loosens, his thumb stroking your pulse point in a surprisingly tender gesture.

"Would you ever hurt me?" You whisper, your breath hot on his lips, your faces mere inches apart. A flicker of fear in your eyes, but it's quickly overshadowed by the desire burning within you. You search his gaze, looking for any sign of malice, any hint of danger. But all you see is raw, primal hunger.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw. He's so close. It's intoxicating and terrifying at once. You have seen him fight, seen the way he's hurt others with minimal effort. He could break you, shatter you into a million pieces if he wanted to.

Aemond's eyes soften for a moment, a rare vulnerability flickering in their depths. "You think I'd hurt you?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "Baby, I'd die before I let anyone lay a finger on you."

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine," he growls, his voice fierce with possessiveness. "And I protect what's mine."

His hand slides from your throat to your cheek, cupping your face gently. "I may be aggressive, but I'm not a pig," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I'd never hurt you, not like that."

"But make no mistake," he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll hurt anyone who tries to take you from me."

You bite his thumb lightly as he speaks, his possessive demeanour sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Anyone who would hurt me?" You purr, leaning into his touch like a small lamb. His words ignite a fire deep within you, a primal desire to be owned, claimed, and protected.

You know you shouldn't give in to this, but you can't help yourself. The way he looks at you like you are the only woman in the world, it's intoxicating.

Aemond growls low in his throat, his eyes darkening with lust at the feel of your teeth on his skin. "That's right, baby," he purrs, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. "You're mine, and I'll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you away from me."

Your breath hitches in your throat at Aemond's words, his dangerous claims sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze, your eyes are wide and full of devotion, a vulnerability you rarely show to anyone.

He tugs you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "I'll protect you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll cherish you. I'll fucking worship you."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. "Body and soul."

Aemond's eyes flash with fierce triumph at your words, a primal look of satisfaction spreading across his face. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growls, tugging you closer and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

"Get dressed, pretty girl. I'm taking you to my place," he demands, leaving no room for argument.

Aemond's eyes blaze with desire as he watches you scramble to put on your clothes, your naked body still slick with his cum. He licks his lips, his cock already hardening again at the sight of you.

He helps you to the passenger seat, smirking. "Hope you don't mind a messy ride."

[lovebugism]

Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you

ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)

“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.

You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more. 

“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.

Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ��cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.

You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”

He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.

“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”

Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”

You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”

“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.

“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.

You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means. 

You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house). 

You decide to humor him, anyway. 

“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.

Eddie’s grin widens.

“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.

You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.

You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”

Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.

“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”

Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.

A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer. 

Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!” 

Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh. 

“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.

Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you. 

In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.

He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.

The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.

[eeboyysworld]

“Life’s a gamble.”

—⋆. 𐙚⋆.˚

Genre: smut

Recruiter x Male!Reader

Contains/Warnings: oral fixation , oral sex , seduction , knife play , cross dressing , bottom!reader .

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Gi-hun, the man you once called a best friend.Definitely not anymore.

The way the white plushy dress hugged your body was a constant reminder of what you had intentionally agreed to.

The way the white plushy dress hugged your body was a constant reminder of what you had intentionally agreed to.

Why were you here in the first place, sitting pretty upon a bench, legs crossed , wind making the bottom of the dress puff up daring anyone to take a peak underneath.

Well..-

“No way in hell!” Shaking your head as fast as you can possibly do, hands moving with you as your face smeared into a snarl.

Sitting across from you was a man, head in his hands, tan skin and bright red hair, easily noticed. “Please..i wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”

The tone of his voice was desperate , mixed with unusual fear.But, yet his eyes held an intensity, confident swirled inside them. Tone and eyes different from each other.

“ You want me to seduce a random man..” eye brows raised as you spoke with question, “- do you know how crazy that looks and sounds?!”

Sighing, the other didn’t speak for moments.Before standing up, briefcase suddenly in hand, the case smashing onto the wooden table placed Infront of you.

Dollar bills wrapped in bands was placed before you, the bright green was contrast next to the broken down table it sat on.

“Take it all.” Was he serious.Your face shocked, mouth open slightly, ‘ with this money I can pay more than just my rent..’ taking your eyes off the prize , locking eyes with the man. Motioning him on to continue his plea.

“Just..do this for me , please..?”

Was it the money that got you to do this , or was it your dearest friend seeking out for you in his desperate state. Possibly both.

Applying a random lipgloss, coating your lips in strawberry gloss, trying the best to look girly.

You had been here for at-least 10 minutes, waiting for the mysterious man in a suit.

You had gotten restless at this point, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

Before a voice call out to you “Ma’am?” perking up as you fix posture.

Tilting your head sideways, eyeing the man dressed in grey, hair elegantly combed back. A briefcase sat in the empty spot between you two. “ Care to play a game?”

This had to be the guy gi-hun was searching for.

Batting your eyes at him, smiling you responded. “I’ll do anything as long as you’re here.” Your hands daring to reach onto his thigh before you can think rationally.

He looked surprised, sure, he had more than a few girls alike hit on him. He kept those encounters professional, but you.. you were different than the other low life’s.

Silence passed on, feeling ashamed of yourself as seconds burned, hand slowly trying to ease away from the other.

In a fast motion, the man’s hand held onto your wrist. Lips quirked into a grin, “ You’re playing dangerous here.”

You sat there for a second too long, you didn’t expect him to play along. Snapping out of it, you couldn’t lose him now that you got him.

“We all need danger in our lives..” tongue licking across your bottom lip , exaggerating your lips to shine even more. Taking his hand into yours, intertwining together.

The man’s eyes had a glint in them, like he was pulling back his true intentions behind a facade.

“ A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone.” Making eye contact as his finger trailed to your jaw. “- never know what could be lurking in the darkness..”

Heat pooled in your stomach, bringing your legs tighter together.

Pouting , remaining the act you put on despite your own nervousness. “Would you be the one lurking?” As your hand fell to your sides, his own gone before it leached on your bare thigh, the skirt ridding up, showing off the smooth skin.

Cold fingers massaging into you, his face still held onto that smirk. “ I’ll be worse than that.”

Urging yourself to lean towards him, as your lips grazed his ear , whispering your own thoughts.

“Give me the worst.”

Before you could think strategically, your own mind applying images of the possibility’s of what could happen once you allowed yourself in the other’s presence.

You found yourself sat on a cold marble counter, the man’s expensive cologne invading you, clouding any sense that can come out.

Fingers pressed into your skin, the hand making its way up, bringing it closer and closer to the truth. You weren’t a girl.

This wasn’t in the plan you and the red head had agreed to.You weren’t supposed to go to the man’s house, all you had to do was get his number.

But .. the charming guy lead you into his arms , whispering of how much fun you guys can have. How could you not melt into his embrace.

The Lacy panty’s you had on wore a wet dot, Pre-cum leaking onto the pretty pink fabric.

Warm hands hooked onto the top, yanking it down, watching as the fabric fell on the ground.

Biting down your lip, the skin chipping from the force you held on it. What will he do once he found out you were a boy.

“Oh..” his eye brows raised slightly, looking down before finding your face again. “ Full of surprises aren’t you?”

A huff left him, his mouth working its way in you, as your tongues fought for dominance.

Whimpers leaving you as he gripped your hardness, saliva linking as he pulled away, “Good thing i love surprises..”

Yanking you slightly up with your length, shriek escaping you.

The feeling of a sharp knife found itself resting on your cheek, sliding it into your skin, leaving a tiny cut that bleed.

The blade dragging it’s up to your throat. Pressing down , enough to make you regret your decision.

“ You’ll do what i say?” The cold metal pressing into you, nodding softly, answering, “Everything.”

Leaving the blade next to you, smiling at you, eyes eating the image of you.

Cooing at you, “ Got all dressed up for me..” his fingers playing with your tip, smearing itself with your mess.

The finger coated with you, bringing it to his lips.

Popping it into his mouth, you could only watch as the man indulged himself. The sound of spit as he slowly took his finger out his mouth. “Let’s hope you don’t break on me doll.”

He teased you on, frustrated as you pouted, your cock throbbed as it was battered with teasing touches.

You were used to the teasing that it was unexpected as he suddenly jerked you, the pace getting faster and faster.

Pleasure shot through you, your own fingers went to your mouth on instinct, sucking on yourself, muffling your words, “S-stop.. teasi..ing!”

Arching off the counter, clenching around nothing , “Me teasing?.. you’re the one walking around in short dresses.”

The ache in you surrounded your entire body, his hand skillfully bringing you undone.

Slobber dripped down your fingers,throwing your neck back , baring it open.

Teeth latching itself on you, biting down before sucking. As the others hand continued to simulate you.

Moans echoed around the room, twitching in his warm hand you felt yourself coming undone.

Coating yourself in his palm, the mess dripping down to the floor, ruining the white dress you wore.

It wasn’t even a minute before his hand began working you to hardness again. “A-ah.!”

“I want you to feel yourself while you suck me off.” He said it so casually, overstimulated you nod shakily.

Bare knees hit the floor, mouth wide open for him. Trying to get comfortable seemed impossible as the floor kept grazing your hard on.

The blade found itself tracing your jaw, leaving behind red marks as blood oozed out.

His heavy length nestled in you, giving it little licks, his groans urged you on. Engulfing yourself on his hard on.

The knife dropped to the ground beside you, barely missing you. His hands griping your hair, forcing you onto him. Making you grind into the floor.

Gagging, he continued to thrust in and out, the sound of wetness left you embarrassed.

“Gonna paint you with my mess-“ picking up the pace.”- look so beautiful with it.”

His scent left you dizzy, holding onto his clothed thighs to hold yourself.Swallowing around him , clenching your mouth.

Your saliva making it easy to fuck your face.Your moans vibrated around him, twitching inside you.

No warnings as he pulled out, the sound popping off as you close your eyes. The stickiness dripped down your body, ultimately ruining the pretty dress.

Coming down his high , tucking himself in his pants, leaning downward to your height.

He watched as you wipe yourself clean, licking away the saltiness on your mouth.

“Now.. care to tell me why you were trying to seduce me?”

Shit.. you are fucked.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

A/N: he’s too fine for this world

[mssalo]

dirty old man - on your knees

You catch Joel smelling your panties, you eagerly offer to help him out by taking care of his cock.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, age gap, caretaker f! reader, Joel is a perverted old man (60-70), reader in her 20s, smell kink, cum play, panty kink, spitting cum onto panty, DDLG dynamic, daddy kink, intense oral (male receiving), degradation, dirty talk, cuming twice, Joel probably having to pop a blue pill before.

more dirty old man in masterlist

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The room was steeped in shadows, dimly lit by the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds.

Joel lounged on the battered leather sofa, an unmistakable glint of desire in his eyes. In his rough, calloused hands, he held your panties, the delicate lace a stark contrast to his rugged masculinity.

He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, a primal groan escaping his lips as he was enveloped in your scent.

“Mmm” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. He pressed the fabric against his face, his breath hitching with each inhale as he savored the intoxicating aroma.

“So fuckin' sweet,” he growled, savoring the remnants of your cunt, feeling the fabric dampen slightly from your wear.

With a wicked grin spreading across his face, Joel brought the panties closer, his mouth descending toward the lace.

He pressed the fabric against his lips, tasting the salty sweetness lingering on the lace, his body responding with a fierce urgency.

The moment was overwhelming, stoking the fire of desire deep within him. His hands moved instinctively to his jeans, deftly undoing his belt, his fingers trembling with need.

He palmed himself through the denim, rubbing against the fabric, every stroke deliberate as he stoked his cock.

Just then, the door creaked open, and you stepped into the room, your heart racing as you took in the sight before you.

Joel, caught in the act, his eyes wide for a split second, then darkening with unrestrained lust, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” he drawled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I was just having a little fun with your wet little panties.”

You stepped closer, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Need any help there, Daddy?” you teased, your tone dripping with flirtation.

Joel’s breath hitched, melting into a hungry smirk. “If you’re offerin’ so nicely, baby,” he replied, leaning back, gesturing for you to come closer, his hand still firmly palming around his hard cock, “I’d love some assistance.”

“Looks like you’ve been having fun without me,” you quipped, your voice sultry as you eyed him with a teasing smile. The tension crackled between you, electric and undeniable.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he shot back, a teasing grin on his face as he waved the damp panties at you.

He pressed the lace against his mouth again, groaning into the fabric, the sound deep and throaty. “'got me so fuckin' hard. I was just thinkin’ how nice it would be to have you right here, helpin’ your old man relieve this tension.”

With a sultry smile, you climbed onto his lap, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against you. “Maybe I should hurry then, huh?” you whispered, your breath warm against his ear, brushing your lips against his skin.

Joel’s gaze was hungry, filled with a raw desire that made your heart race. “Then get to it, sweet girl. I want to see that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

You sank to your knees before him, the sight of his arousal stirring something deep inside you.

“You wanna suck my cock while I lick your sweet little panties? I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I want to taste you, Daddy. I want to feel you in my mouth while you savor my scent,” you moaned out.

Joel’s breath hitched, a low growl escaping him. “You’re a filthy little thing, hm, baby? Get those pretty lips wrapped around me, and I promise I’ll give you everything you crave, little one.”

Kneeling before him, you could feel the heat radiating off Joel’s body as he watched you with an intense gaze, his breath coming in heavy, eager bursts.

The sight of him, muscles taut with need and cock straining against the fabric of his jeans, sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

“Damn, look at you, princess. makin' heart-eyes at an old man's cock,” he said, voice thick with desire. He shifted in his seat, making his erection even more pronounced. “You ready to make me feel good, sweet one?”

You smirked up at him, letting your fingers tease the zipper of his jeans.

“You know I love making you feel good, Daddy.” With a flick of your wrist, you unzipped him, pulling down the fabric just enough to free his cock. It sprang free, thick and heavy, the sight making your mouth water.

Joel’s head fell back slightly as a low groan escaped him, the sound music to your ears. “That’s it, baby. Take a good look. You know you love it,” he taunted, his voice a mix of arrogance and raw need.

You leaned in closer, letting your warm breath fan over his cock, teasing him before you wrapped your fingers around the base.

“Mmm, so big and hard for me,” you purred, giving it a slow stroke, your eyes locked on his as you savored the feeling of him in your hand.

“Just like that,” he urged, his voice rough, the tension in his body palpable. “I want to feel that pretty little mouth of yours around me. Don’t tease too much, or I might just have to take what I need.”

"- though you'd like that, wouldn't ya, little one?" he added with a smirk.

With a sly smile, you brought your mouth closer, sticking your tongue out to flick against the tip of his cock, tasting the pre-cum that had already gathered there.

Joel’s breath hitched, and you felt a thrill at the effect you had on him.

“Fuck, yea,” he groaned, his hand threading into your hair as he encouraged you. “'such a good little cocksucker. Just how I like it. Just like I taught ya.”

You took him into your mouth, the warmth enveloping him as you hollowed your cheeks and sank down as far as you could go. The feeling of him stretching your lips made you moan, sending vibrations that only spurred him on further.

“God, you feel so fucking good, pretty girl,” he muttered, his hips instinctively bucking up into your mouth. “ I want to feel every inch of me in that pretty little mouth of yours. Stretch that throat over my fuckin' cock.”

You pulled back momentarily, letting your tongue swirl around the head of his cock before diving back down, taking him deeper.

With every thrust of your mouth, you watched his face contort with pleasure, each groan urging you to push further, to give him more of what he craved.

“'taking my cock like a good girl, fuck,” he praised, his voice laced with both dominance and admiration. “I bet you love how I taste, hm, baby? You’re just a little slut for your old man.”

You pulled back again, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock as you grinned up at him, feeling a rush of excitement at the dirty words falling from his lips. “you know I am, Daddy,” you replied, your voice breathy with arousal. “I love every second of it.”

“then don’t hold back,” he commanded, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I want you to take all of me. Show me how much you want it.”

“Don’t forget about those full fuckin' balls,” he reminded you, his voice thick with lust. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, shifting your attention.

You leaned down, kissing and sucking at his heavy, aching balls, your tongue swirling around them as you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch. Joel’s breath hitched, a guttural growl escaping him as he watched you work.

“God, you’re such a good fuckin' girl,” he praised, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Keep that up and I’ll lose my mind.”

With one hand, Joel lifted your panties back to his face, inhaling deeply as he moaned, his eyes rolling back in bliss. “You smell so fucking good, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “I could get lost in that scent forever.”

You glanced up at him, your heart racing as you watched him savor your essence. The sight of him lost in pleasure only fueled your arousal, and you dove back to his cock, taking him deeper, bobbing your head with renewed vigor.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his hips thrusting slightly as he neared the edge. “''gonna cum soon, baby. you want that? want me to fill that pretty mouth of yours?”

You nodded eagerly, the thought of it sending waves of heat through you. His grip on your hair tightened, urging you to take him deeper, the pace now frantic.

“Suck those balls again while you’re at it,” he demanded, and you obliged, your tongue swirling around them as you took him in as deep as you could manage.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he hissed, his voice strained, each word dripping with desire. “I’m so close, baby. Don’t stop. I want you to swallow every last fuckin' drop.”

With a few more eager motions, Joel’s breathing quickened, his body tensing as he teetered on the brink. “Here it comes, sweet girl. get ready. Pretty lips over the head. common' now.”

Your heart raced as you prepared, wanting to savor every moment. “I’m ready, Daddy, please cum for me,” you whispered, and that seemed to send him over the edge.

As Joel’s body shuddered, he groaned deeply, his cock pulsing in your mouth. “Fuuuck!” he shouted, the sound reverberating through the room.

Hot ropes of cum surged forth, flooding your mouth, the salty taste mingling with your own arousal.

You swallowed greedily, savoring every drop, your eyes locked onto his as you took him deeper, wanting to milk every last bit from him.

“Goddamn, dirty fuckin' girl,” he panted, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look at you, so eager to please. I could watch you all day.”

With a final, desperate thrust, he filled your mouth completely, and you felt the warmth of his cum coating your tongue.

The moment stretched on, electric and intoxicating, as you relished the feeling of being so utterly consumed by his need.

You pulled back slowly, your lips dragging against his sensitive skin, and looked up at him, your mouth still slightly open, a glistening string of cum connecting your lips to his cock.

“Did you enjoy that, baby?” he teased, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “you like the taste of your daddy, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, your voice sultry and playful, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, still savoring the remnants of his release. “I could taste you all day.”

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping lower, filled with that familiar edge of authority. “Because I have more for you. I want you to play with it now. Show me how dirty you can be.”

You nodded, emboldened by his words, and reached for his cock, still glistening with your combined essence.

Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking gently at first, teasingly, as you felt him throb under your touch. “Like this?” you asked, your voice dripping with lust.

“Just like that, baby,” he encouraged, his breath hitching as you picked up the pace, your hand working him with a steady rhythm. “you love playing with your daddy’s cock, yeah, baby? - my little girl.”

“yeah,” you breathed, your cheeks flushing with excitement as you watched his reactions. “It’s so big and hard… I can’t help but want more.”

“fuck, you’re killing me,” he groaned, his hips instinctively thrusting forward to meet your strokes. “you’re such a little slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t get enough of my cum or my cock.”

“Not at all,” you replied, your voice sultry. You leaned forward, licking the tip of his cock as you pumped him faster. “I want it all, Daddy. I want to feel you fill my mouth up again.”

“Then you better make me want to cum again, sweetheart,” he growled, his eyes darkening with lust. “I want you to make me cum again. Think you can handle that?”

“Of course,” you said confidently, the thrill of his words sending a wave of heat through you. Your mouth watering at the thought of what was to come, feeling more alive than ever under his gaze.

“Then show me how much of a dirty girl you can be,” he commanded, his voice low and filled with lust.

With that, you took him in your mouth once more, eager to please him, to give him what he craved. You felt the rush of power coursing through you as you worked him, your fingers tracing along the base as your mouth worked diligently.

You could feel him getting closer again, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as you pushed him toward the edge once more.

“Just like that, my good fuckin' girl,” he praised, the sound of his approval making you even wetter. “You’re so fucking good at this. You know just how to drive me wild. I’m gonna cum again. Get ready, sweetheart.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through both of you.

As his body tensed, you could sense the familiar surge building inside him. “Don’t you fuckin' dare pull away,” he growled, his voice thick with urgency.

His grip on your hair tightened, and his body quivered in anticipation. “I’m so fucking close, baby. you want me to cum in that pretty mouth of yours again, hm?” he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing with anticipation as you increased your pace, taking him deeper.

His cock brushed the back of your throat, and you felt him pulse in your mouth, a telltale sign of his impending release.

“Fuck! Here it comes!” he shouted, his voice a mixture of pleasure and raw need. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside, his hips jerking as he released a torrent of hot cum down your throat.

Waves of warmth filled your mouth, and you struggled to swallow it all as he groaned, his body shuddering with each intense wave of pleasure.

“God, yes! Just like that!” he encouraged, watching you with darkened eyes, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

You felt a thrill rush through you as you swallowed, savoring the taste of him, but just as you thought it was over, he pulled you off him.

“Now clean it up one last time, sweet one,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. You nodded, eager to please, and slowly licked the tip of his cock, drawing out the last remnants of his release before looking up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Don’t swallow,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Your heart raced at his command, and you kept his cum pooled in your mouth, feeling it warm against your tongue.

With a wicked grin, he reached for your panties, lifting them up to your lips. “Now spit,” he said, watching you intently as you complied, letting the mixture of saliva and his cum dribble onto the fabric.

He took a moment to admire the sight, his gaze dark and hungry, filled with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Now, hold them up to your face. suck them clean.”

You did as he asked, lifting the damp fabric to your mouth. The combined taste of your essence and his release filled your being, intensifying the need thrumming through your body.

Joel watched you, a smug smile creeping across his lips as he leaned closer.

“Look at you, all obedient and eager,” he teased, his breath hot against your skin. “You love it, don’t you? Knowing you can make this old man feel this good, again.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of arousal at his words, your body responding to his commanding presence. “You’re such a dirty little girl,” he continued, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “And I love every second of it.”

As you held the fabric up to your face, Joel reached down, teasingly brushing a finger along your thigh, igniting a fire within you once more. “Let’s see what else we can do to satisfy that need of yours.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

a short chapter but I still want Joel so bad.

I´m sorry for being quiet these days I had some stuff going on and im working on a new series right now! thank you for the comments - they're always my favorite part and keep me so motivated!! love y'all!!

[okwonyo]

𓈒 ㅤ𓈒 ㅤ𓈒 KISS ME！ ❪ 日语 ❫

IN ALTERNATIVA ─── 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒.

enhypen who wants a kiss from fem!rea ❜ 11OO fluff established relationship ˊᯅˋ kissing skinship

REBLOGS&CLICK

지아 ⠀⦂⠀this is a rewritten version of a fic that i did a while ago TT i hope you guys enjoy ! & the won gfx are made by me 🎀

HEESEUNG

unfortunately for him, it is painfully obvious. his eyes keeps peeking at your lips while you talk— he tries to focus on you, looking right into your eyes before staring at your mouth again.

you can tell from the expression on his face. his mouth as falled agape, his pupils dilate more and more by the second, his is getting a bit red. it is a kiss that he is craving for.

you make a pause in your story to try to catch his attention, “are you even listening to me right now?” your voice is more amused than annoyed.

“uh huh,” he nods. his gaze meeting your for a split second before focusing back on the object of his attention.

you narrow your eyes, pressing your lips together to suppress a laugh. you watch your boyfriend lean in, “it just gets worse when you do that.”

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

he always gets the urge to kiss you. wherever and whenever, he knows he is already gone the moment your soft lips are in sight.

however, he is a gentleman. he doesn’t cut you in what you are doing or in your sentence— he knows he got all the time in the world. to kiss you breathless, to kiss you sweetly.

he sits on the sofa, next to you. eyeing you talk about your day, so passionate and beautiful that his hearts beats faster by the minute. he drinks your world— stealing quick glance at your moving mouth.

he waits for you to finish, resting his arm on the

backseat, right behind your head. he gently hums, fully listening to you counting your story.

“am i talking too much?” you giggle after catching the look on his face. his hand reach the back of your head.

your boyfriend shakes his head, “no, baby,” he gives you a gentle kiss. “i love to hear you talk.”

JAKE

what surprises you first are his arms embracing your waist and his chest pressing against your back while you finish doing the dishes.

you can’t help but smile— laying your eyes at his cute face. nonetheless, you flash him a fake annoyed look, that gets betrayed with your effort to hide your smile.

you flick on the water pouring in front of you. “what do you want?” you question him when he puts his chin on your shoulder to get attention.

the man opens his mouth in fake offense, letting out the most dramatic gasp the earth has ever witnessed.

he is quick to give you a little pout though. you can see his puppy eyes growing wider when you give him a side look, “i want a kiss.”

he is already kissing you before you say anything.

SUNGHOON

he is too shy at the thought of asking you for a kiss alone. his pulse rate gets higher as soon as tries to form the words in his head.

your lover is way too shy to speak, to ask you for something he wants as much as a kiss. but this shyness contrasts directly with how he decides to act.

he decides to take a move instead— he comes to you as you mind your own business in the kitchen. he doesn’t say anything, startling you as you turn around and see him.

“oh!” you exclaim gently. looking up immediately as he is already very close to you already— you tilt your head to the side, observing him not saying anything.

he stays silent, putting his hands on your hips. he corners you between the kitchen counter and himself. his eyes linger on your lips

his face is already close to yours—hiding his blush— and he is so close that you are almost sitting on the counter, when he whispers, “kiss me.”

SUNOO

he isn’t as shy as he used to be at the beginning of your relationship, although you are sure all this cute boy persona was all an act.

the man watches you from afar when you get out of the bathroom. all dolled up and pampered, smelling so good that he almost faints.

he feels jealous of everyone who will get to see you tonight. but, also very pretty proud of being the one you are coming home to.

“hey, pretty girl!” his voice is heard from the leaving. he is leaning on the doorframe, arm crossed under his chest— waiting for you. “c’mere.”

“what?” you smile, your eyes narrow as you observe the sly smile on his lips. he presents one if his hands to you and you take it immediately.

he yanks you right towards him in a swift motion. “gimme a kiss,” he demands with the cutest and most attractive smile you’ve seen.

JUNGWON

instead being a good and nice boyfriend,he always decides to be the most annoying and teasing he can be.

he waits for the moment you are the most immersed in your talking to cup your pretty face. he holds his hands gently yet firmly— pressing his palms against your cheeks and making your lips pucker.

however, it doesn’t stop you. with your hands holding his wrists, you are too used to his weird habits to even bat an eye.

he nods, listening to you talk and internally debating whether he should wait until you stop or kiss your right now.

and listen, you are just too beautiful. so in between many ‘yeah’s and nods, he cuts you off, “you are so cute”

you shut up immediately. he takes your silence as an opportunity to plant multiple pecks on your lips. saying that you end up blushing is an understatement.

RIKI

“okay, what’s wrong with you?” your voice cuts him in his trance like state. he eyes flick to yours— he stops staring at your lips.

he takes a while to answer, still a bit dazed, caused by the fact he got dragged out of his daydreaming. he clears his throat, “w–what are you talking about?”

you raise an eyebrow, very amused. “you have been staring at me weirdly for ten minutes now,” you end up giggling when you see him blush.

he looks away from you for a minute, taking a dee breath before speaking again, “what do you mean ‘weirdly’?”

“well, you are mainly staring at my lips,” he didn’t even realize he was still doing it. “so i guess— ‘weirdly’ like you want a kiss or something.”

he really wish he could say anything back, but you can read into his mind like a wide open book and he is too embarrassed. he hides his face in hands, letting you laugh at him.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. boothill spending a nice, sunny day on the ranch with his family !

tags. pre-cyborg!boothill x wife!female reader. fluff, one tiny hint of angst. sfw. daughter is adopted. based on boothill’s lore. reader gets called ‘mama/momma’. i shed a tear writing this

“aye, yer getting good, kiddo.” boothill grins as he humors his daughter. he’s sitting on a patch of grass underneath an old tree, with his little girl sitting on his lap. his stetson hat lays low on his head, a piece of straw grass between his teeth.

days like these are the reason why he cherishes life. peaceful days where his wife and kid are the only ones surrounding him. home is where he belongs; with his daughter playing the tiny guitar he made her from scratch.

well—more like she’s beating it up.

“dada! dada!” she squeals as she harshly pats the strings, creating an unsatisfactory sound that would make anyone in the vicinity cringe. though, to boothill the sound is a sign of life. of his beloved child being carefree and happy.

the cowboy runs his fingers through the girl’s locks, admiring the little bundle of joy that’s been bestowed upon him. ever since he took her in, life’s been nothing but joyful. “adorable, ain’t ya?” boothill mumbles to no one in particular.

a warm breeze lifts his bangs ever so slightly, revealing those unique eyes of his. they’re filled with nothing but admiration for his daughter. perhaps also a hint of bittersweet warmth.

she’s growing up so fast.

“honey, dinner’s ready!” your voice makes both boothill and the child look up. boothill’s signature smirk only widens the moment you come out of the main house, wiping your hands off with your apron. you look stunning underneath the orange-ish sky. you’re also a reminder of how good boothill has it.

boothill nods and squeezes his daughter’s cheeks, gaining a small giggle at the touch. the calluses on his hands are a contrast to her smooth skin. the chubbiness in her cheeks is absolutely adorable to the white and black-haired man.

“oh, ya hear that? y’r momma made us some food,” boothill pokes the girl’s sides, which makes her laugh again. his favorite sound. she abandons her guitar and stands up, her legs still somewhat wobbly. she had only recently learnt how to walk on her own after all.

“mama!” the kid repeats, reaching her tiny hands out to your figure in the distance. you smile at the sight and crouch down, spreading your arms as you encourage her to walk towards you.

you nod and let out a small chuckle, “hi, baby! c’mon— come to mama!”

your daughter gasps and tries to find her balance before she sets another step. boothill watches her with a fond smile, his hands ready to catch her if she were to fall. though, there doesn’t seem to be any need for those precautions.

she waddles over to you in no time. her little gasps and pants as she tries to run melt the cowboy’s heart. he gets up and walks behind the tiny girl, a sudden mischievous grin on his face.

“heh,” boothill chuckles before acting like he’s going to run after her and catch her if she doesn’t run away from him, “better run before i catch ya!”

the child takes the light-hearted threat seriously and squeals at the sight of her father figure ‘running’ after her. her legs take her towards you as fast as they can, working overtime to reach the other side of the ranch, “waaaaaah!”

you laugh at the sight of your husband chasing after the little girl. he’s good with children—to your utter surprise. before boothill came home with the abandoned baby, you didn’t know if he’d have the skills to care for children. he is blunt, straightforward and rough in some ways.

however, your worries were soon to be proven wrong. it’s like boothill’s destined to be a girl dad. that’s how well he can get along with your adoptive daughter. it was difficult for him at first, but with some trial and error, he’s turned into a great father figure.

“got’cha!” boothill exclaims as he scoops the small child up in his arms the second she got close to you. he tickles her sides and she squirms—giggling like she’s never done before.

“nooooo!” she tries to protest between laughs, but it seems to be an impossible task. her little legs kick wildly in boothill’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up. he puts her over his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“the food smells good, babe,” boothill whispers and kisses the top of your head. the smell of your delicious cooking makes his mouth water. he pinches your cheek and flashes you that charming grin of his not a second later, “bet it tastes fuckin’ amazing too.”

“language, honey,” you roll your eyes playfully and slap boothill’s bicep as a reminder. he simply shrugs and laughs menacingly.

you walk back with him into the house, one hand of his resting on your waist, whilst the other secures your (still squealing) daughter on his shoulder.

the sun setting gives the sky beautiful colors. orange, purple, yellow and a bit of red. it adds to the beauty of this moment—a family of three living happily ever after on their ranch—with nothing or no one to ruin their lives.

or so they thought.

[emmyc0z]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

[v6quewrlds]

imagine being joe's person.

author's note⠀⁎⠀suffering from major joey withdrawal. reads more like a character study/brain dump than anything else but enjoy <3

For as long as Joe can remember, he had been told by everyone - coaches, doctors, teachers, teammates - that his coolness was to be envied. In the pressure cooker of professional football, the ability to keep his nerves in check had been his superpower. He loved the feeling of the game slowing down when everyone else was speeding up, the way he could read the field and make split-second decisions that could change the course of a game. From the minute he stepped onto the field, he was in control. He was commanding the huddle, keeping his eye on the clock, setting up the play, and taking lead on the outcome. He thrived when he was in control.

But when he stepped off the football field and into the public eye, all of that control completely slipped away. He couldn't help but feel like he was performing, acting the role of someone named Joe Burrow instead of just being himself. It didn't help that the cameras and curious eyes followed him everywhere. Everyone seemed to be eager to catch him off-guard, eager to see the "real" side of him, eager to witness him lose his cool.

She had caught on to his nervous tells early on in their relationship. It was subtle at first, just a hint of a tremor in his voice when he cleared it before speaking, or the way he'd swipe his palms against his pants when he was about to be interviewed, even the way he would shift from side to side slightly when he felt uncomfortable. But over the course of their two years together, she had learned to read him like a book.

He would never admit it out loud to anybody but her, but Joe was terrified of letting his guard down. The weight of his ever increasing fame and the constant pressure of living up to expectations had turned his life into a tightrope walk. But with her, everything felt different. Her presence was like a gentle breeze that calmed the static in his brain. It was always just a touch, the smell of her perfume, or the sound of her approaching footsteps that could soothe him.

His foundation was always a top priority for Joe, and today was particularly special. The charity golf event was a chance to give back to the communities in southeastern Ohio and Baton Rouge that had supported him through his football journey. From the moment they started dating seriously, she had been by his side at every event, making herself available to support him in his philanthropic efforts. His mother constantly gushed about how she was the perfect partner for Joe, handling the social graces with ease, and contributing her talents to make sure the events ran smoothly.

She had a knack for making people feel at ease, a skill that Joe greatly admired. She had a way of connecting with people from all walks of life, and it was evident in the way the guests at the check-in lit up when she greeted them. Her genuine smile and warm handshakes made even the stiffest of the corporate sponsors crack a smile. Joe watched her from across the room, feeling a sense of pride swell within him.

The golf event was in full swing now. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the meticulously manicured greens. Joe's could feel his mind racing, his inner monologue murmuring his anxieties as he mingled with the guests as they arrived.

Between the never-ending carousel of guests, Joe would find himself glancing in the direction of the entrance, hoping the line would soon thin out and she would be by his side - where she was supposed to be. The hour reserved for check-in seemed to drag on with Robin and Jimmy occasionally stepping in to take some of the conversational weight off him. He loved them for it, he really did, but all he wanted was her comforting presence, her hand in his, her laugh in his ear.

Finally, she appeared, looking absolutely radiant in a simple white sundress that contrasted with her brown skin, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and a small black handbag in her hand. She made her way through the crowd, a vision of confidence and grace that made Joe's chest tighten. She had that special glow about her today, something that seemed to have been amplified by the excitement of the event.

Her eyes met his and he couldn't bring himself to focus on what the shorter, gray-haired man in front of him was saying. Everything around him blurred into a muffled murmur. She was everything he wasn't in social settings: poised, articulate, natural, and absolutely magnetic. As she approached, Joe felt his body relax, his breathing even out, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She was by his side in an instant, taking her rightful place as she handed him a chilled bottle of water.

His hand gravitated to her waist, and he felt a wave of comfort wash over him as she leaned in slightly, her hand brushing against his back. He could feel his back straighten, his shoulders ease, and his breath deepen. The familiar warmth of her body began to ground him, bringing him back to the present, and reminding him that he was more than capable of remaining in control.

"George, Tim, this is my girlfriend," Joe introduced, his voice steady as he finally had the strength to redirect his focus to the guests. He watched with a proud smile as she offered the two men her hand for a handshake, easygoing greetings of "Nice to meet you," and "Thank you for coming," leaving her soft lips.

She tucked back into his side in an instant, her free hand coming up to rest between his shoulder blades, his hand wrapped around her waist once more. They made small talk with George and Tim, who both looked at Joe with a knowing smile, nodding their heads in approval at the mention of her name. Though they wouldn't have guessed it before she appeared by his side, they could see his nerves smooth out, his shoulders drop, and the tension in his jaw ease.

"So, how long have you two been together?" George inquired, sipping his drink and looking at the couple with genuine curiosity.

Joe's gaze flickered to her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he replied, "Two years now."

Her eyes sparkled with affection as she listened to Joe speak, her thumb idly tracing patterns on his back. "It'll be three years in August," she added, clarifying gently.

Tim, the taller of the two, chuckled and said, "Well, Joe, you're getting closer to the big 3-0. Maybe it's time to start thinking about settling down? I think you've got a pretty good candidate by your side. My wife was raving about her when they were setting up the check-in."

Joe felt his cheeks warm slightly, but the smile didn't leave his face. "I've already started planning, actually," he responded, surprising even himself with his decisiveness. Her hand stilled its motion on his back, her eyes widening in shock as she turned her face to meet his eye.

"Oh, really?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "That's news to me."

Joe felt a twinge of panic, realizing he had spoken before thinking. But the look on her face wasn't one of annoyance or upset; her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation. He took a deep breath and said, "Well, I mean, I've been thinking about it. We've got a good thing going, and I can't see my future without you in it."

That was the truth. He often found himself wondering what life with her could look like beyond football. The dream with the white picket fence, curly-haired kids playing in the yard, her standing in the kitchen with a baby on her hip and a smile on her face when she welcomed him home. It was a picture that had started to form in his mind more and more often in the quiet moments between games and practices. At times, he questioned how he managed to be motivated to do anything that wasn't football before her - couldn't fathom how he managed to exist before her.

Her smile grew wider. "Is that so?" she said, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Very interesting."

Tim and George laughed heartily, their faces reddening with good cheer as they slapped Joe on the back. "Good for you, Joe," George exclaimed. "You're going to need someone like her to keep you grounded in this crazy world. Good luck, you two."

The conversation flowed around them as they found themselves in the middle of the bustling golf clubhouse. The air was filled with the chatter of excitement and the clinking of glasses as people mingled and shared stories. She leaned closer to Joe, whispering, "So, you're planning our future, without my input?" Her voice was teasing, but her eyes searched his, looking for a hint of what he might be feeling.

Joe looked down at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Well, I figured you'd be okay with it, given that you're a big part of it," he replied, trying to keep his tone light despite the sudden seriousness that had entered their conversation. The room felt warmer, and not just from the bodies packed into the space. "I want to do this right, babe. I want to make sure you're happy, that we're both ready."

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek, the gesture unseen by the surrounding guests. "Joey," she whispered, "you always make sure I'm happy. I'm ready for whatever comes next, whenever it comes."

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), some more pining, cussing (bkg-typical), mentions of food, we're finally meeting the bakugous!, angst (if you look closely)

words. 4.8k (see why i had to split it...)

a/n. we have one more chapter to go, y'all! i'd love to hear your thoughts about the series so far, as well as how you think it's gonna end <3

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9

It doesn’t elude you that the air entering your nostrils and lungs through the shaky inhale you take is nothing short of crisp.

It’s early evening in the suburbs where Bakugou’s parents live just in the peripheries of Musutafu. The sunset that graced you through the man’s car windows on the way over was now nowhere to be seen, having been replaced by the sight of the waning gibbous with a sprinkle of stars dotting the night sky.

Something you rarely see in the city, you think to yourself.

Your head craned towards the infinite ceiling, you continue to admire the view, or at least try to do so—the act seemingly becoming more and more impossible by the second, what with your nerves shot and your stomach churning with anticipatory anxiety.

Bakugou must have noticed your wobbly breathing, because the man side-eyes you for a beat before finally speaking. “What are you, nervous?”

You turn your head to look at him, taking in the sight of your boss in a dark brown sweater with a white collar peeking out at the top in an effort to ground yourself, although you find you’re not feeling any calmer.

You hesitate for a moment, before heaving another jittery, somewhat resigned, sigh.

No point in hiding the truth now.

You shrug, “Yeah…”

“Don’t be,” he promptly replies, catching you off guard. His voice is serious and deceivingly firm when he finishes it off.

“They’re gonna like you.”

You don’t get the chance to think about how to respond, let alone react instinctively because the front door opens as if on cue, and out comes a relatively tall woman with ash blonde hair, followed by a slightly taller brown-haired man.

You’ve barely gotten a word in when you get scooped into the arms of the woman you now identify as Bakugou Mitsuki, and when she pulls away and keeps you at arm's length—beaming, no less, in what you hope is happiness—it takes everything in you not to gawk at how stunning the woman is.

“…You’re overwhelming her, honey,” you hear the man, who you assume is Bakugou Masaru, say worriedly at your right side.

“Oh, right,” Mitsuki hurriedly releases her hold of you and retracts her hands, flashing you a bright albeit apologetic smile right after. “Forgive me, it’s just that I never thought this day would come!”

At that, she shoots Bakugou, who’s standing beside your left, a pointed look before turning back to grin at you, “I can’t believe Katsuki has finally brought a girl home!”

You don’t have to look at the man beside you to know he’s sporting a scowl. “Watch it, old hag,” he growls.

“You watch it, child. Mind how you talk to your mother in front of your girl.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as you watch the exchange, inadvertently catching the two blondes’ attention, their gazes drifting toward you at the sound. After a brief second, and to your relief, Mitsuki starts laughing along but Bakugou only looks away in what you think is irritation.

“Well, this girl is grateful for the invite, Mitsuki-san,” you start, mustering your most thankful smile. “But I hope I’m not imposing on your family…”

Mitsuki is quick to respond with a wave of a hand, “Not at all! You’re our guest of honor. Please, make yourself at home!”

Masaru nods in agreement, extending his right hand for you to shake, which you happily do. His smile is gentle—a stark contrast to Bakugou’s default expressions, you note—when he finally invites the both of you in. As you do—eager to escape the cold—you glance at Bakugou behind you, who’s apparently already been looking at you, although he averts his gaze when your eyes make contact.

Again with that solemn expression.

That unsettling expression drops down to the bottom of your list of priorities, however, when you enter the threshold of their home. You’re immediately hit with a glorious combination of fragrances emanating from what you think is the kitchen at the far side of the room.

“Everything smells great, Mitsuki-san,” you offer, hoping the sincerity can be heard from your tone.

You think it must have because the woman instantly lights up at the comment, “Why, thank you! Every day’s not Thanksgiving, after all.”

You nod, following them along into the living room, taking a seat on the corduroy couch opposite Mitsuki upon Masaru’s wordless invitation. “It’s so nice how you guys go all out to celebrate the holiday.”

You note how Bakugou, who’s planted on the armrest beside Mitsuki, frowns at the compliment.

“What?” you ask him before you can stop yourself, curious.

“They don’t really celebrate it,” he grunts, before tossing his mother a borderline disgusted look. “The old hag is just using it as an excuse to invite you over.”

That quip grants him a smack in the head from the said “hag”. Bakugou doesn’t yelp or cry in pain, although he does let out a slight hiss. You, again, can’t help the smile that creeps on your face as you watch them.

Mitsuki is facing Bakugou as she tuts in what you think is a warning, before turning to regard you again, a grin now having replaced the reprimanding expression that had just been on her face a second ago.

It grows even wider when she says: “What do you say we leave the rest of the cooking up to the boys and we go through Katsuki’s photo albums?”

“S-sure!” you quickly respond, the entirety of the suggestion not registering for a beat until it does, your head whipping to look at the man as you blurt out: “Bakugou, you can cook?”

At that, Mitsuki’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes darting between the both of you. “Wait, are you saying he’s never cooked for you before?” Mitsuki asks, incredulous.

She then turns to her son, who now has his arms crossed in front of his broad chest like a petulant child, “Young man, what have you been doing?”

“God, relax,” Bakugou groans as he stands up from where he was seated, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen. “We’ve just been busy with work. No time for that shit.”

“Busy with work, my ass,” she calls out to him, before once again turning to face you. “And honey, there’s no need to be all formal around us. Go ahead and call Katsuki by his first name—there’s really nothing to be shy about.”

Before you can think against it, your eyes widen in surprise for a fraction of a second before you school your face into what you think is an appropriate enough expression. “R-right, sorry.”

You chance a glance at the man, who’s now hacking away at the green onions like a madman albeit quite expertly, what you think is red creeping up his face in nothing else but scornful exasperation.

“So,” Mitsuki starts, and you turn back to see her wiggling her eyebrows at you, “about the photo albums?”

Just as Mitsuki suggested, you busied yourself with photo albums filled to the brim with close documentation of Bakugou growing up while the two men finished up in the kitchen. It didn’t come as a surprise that Bakugou was a cute kid, a signature boyish grin decorating his face in the few pictures where he isn’t scowling or glaring at the camera. You greedily took in the seemingly mundane details of Bakugou’s childhood as Mitsuki narrated the backstory of each photograph, smiling and even laughing along when she cracked a joke about how her son must have been born as the proverbial grump based on how early he learned how to glower.

Bakugou didn’t say anything the entire time you pore over the albums, probably used to his mom mouthing about her only child to friends and family who are willing to listen. Before you know it, dinner is eventually served, and the dishes that Bakugou and Masaru would bring from the island countertops to their hardwood dining table looked nothing short of scrumptious. It didn’t take long for you to conclude that they tasted exactly how they looked.

“Everything tastes incredible, but the miso ramen is glorious, Mitsuki-san,” you piped up in the middle of dinner.

The woman only tossed you a pleased, somewhat knowing look. “You’ve got your boyfriend to thank for that, dear.”

You must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because the man of the hour’s parents laugh at your expression. You stole a glance at Bakugou, who only slurped at his bowl in silence, face schooled into a rather neutral countenance.

A steady conversation gradually enveloped the four of you as you went ham on dinner, and you now find your shoulders relaxing, the tension from earlier leaving your body. You discuss current events, which then leads to Masaru asking Bakugou about how the agency is fairing in light of the recent spikes in crimes. The topic then drifts to you, like what’s your family like and what your parents do for a living; it shifts afterward to how work is going for them in the fashion industry, to the couple's retirement plans, with Mitsuki waxing poetic about how they really need to be there for each other when they do retire because Bakugou doesn’t visit them enough. To that, the man only scowls, mumbling something about how he does, in fact, visit them enough, and that the “old hag’s” definition of enough is stupidly skewed.

“But enough about us!” Mitsuki completely disregards Bakugou’s retort, shifting in her seat to address you, “I’ve actually been dying to ask you this question since you arrived. I know our Katsuki isn��t the easiest—”

“Hah?”

“—guy to be around, and so I’m really glad he was able to find someone as lovely as you. So,” Mitsuki tosses you a playful look, “what do you like about Katsuki?”

You barely stop yourself from choking on the maki roll lodged in your throat, quickly swallowing it rather painfully as you scramble for the proper way to react and respond. From the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he doesn’t say anything to shut down his mother or even shift the topic of the conversation.

“Uh—” you start lamely, “What do I like about… him?”

At that, Mitsuki laughs good-naturedly. “Surely there has to be something, right? Please, indulge this old lady!”

You chuckle along with her, albeit rather awkwardly, before clearing your throat.

The only way to make it out of this conversation alive and relatively unscathed is by lacing your answers with the truth.

And so you do.

“Ba—” you start, catching yourself in the nick of time, “K-Katsuki—” you pause again, hating the way you uttered his name so tentatively like it’s something obviously foreign, “—is the most dedicated person I know.”

Mitsuki only nods in encouragement, as if urging you to go on.

And right now, you find that you’re nothing if not a people-pleaser.

“He’s admirable—there’s a reason why he’s risen to the top this quickly and stayed there,” you nod, pleased at what you think is certainty bleeding into your tone. “I don’t have any problems at all leading the HR department, what with him being the best example of what an outstanding work ethic looks like.”

The room falls into a lull, and as the seconds tick by with no one saying anything, you’re starting to think you said the wrong thing when Mitsuki finally speaks up.

“That—that’s great to hear, dear, really.” She seems to hesitate for a moment before holding your gaze again, and you brace yourself for what she’s about to say next.

“…But what about outside of work?”

There it is.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Uh—” you parrot again, mentally slapping yourself for stuttering when you can just keep your mouth shut while you think of an acceptable reply like a normal, sane person.

You glance at Bakugou, who’s now looking at you in what you think is anticipation.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself flush.

Yet you’re unable to break away from his gaze when the words finally come to you.

“…He cares,” you manage to miraculously get out while Bakugou’s crimson eyes bore a hole into you. “…Deeply. And, he makes sure it shows in his actions.”

You watch as Bakugou studies you for a few more seconds as if he’s searching for something—you don’t know what—hidden amidst your features, eventually averting his gaze back to his plate.

You follow suit, looking down at your half-finished ebi tempura, suddenly feeling too self-conscious and oddly vulnerable.

It’s Mitsuki’s soft voice that causes you to look up again.

“That’s… everything I wanted to hear,” Mitsuki almost whispers, and you think if you squint hard enough you can see tears pooling in her eyes.

You shoot her a tight-lipped smile, sensing an unusual sense of uneasiness blooming in your gut.

Thankfully, and to your relief, Mitsuki doesn’t ask any more equally humiliating questions after that, the conversation having been steered to more shallow and light-hearted topics, primarily by Masaru. Without you noticing, dinner time reaches its conclusion and it’s now time to clean up.

You stand up from your chair and start gathering leftovers to stack the plates right after when Mitsuki reaches across the table and pries them off your grip. You look at her in confusion, but she only shakes her head.

“We’ll handle the cleaning, dear.”

Behind her, Masaru nods in agreement, and you’re about to open your mouth to protest but Bakugou beats you to it.

“No use arguing with the old hag. Just give it up.”

At that, you sag in disappointment—you really wanted to pay them back, even if it’s just through helping out with cleaning—but obey nevertheless, putting down the cutlery you were just about to gather into a bunch.

Now with nothing to do with your hands, you stand at the edge of the table awkwardly, watching the couple swiftly clearing out the area. Masaru seems to notice your discomfort because he speaks up.

“Hey, Katsuki,” he starts, “why don’t you show her around your bedroom?”

Almost immediately, Mitsuki beams at her husband, evidently enthralled by the proposition. You fight the strong urge to furrow your eyebrows in worry. “That’s a good idea, honey. I bet she’d love to see your childhood knickknacks, Katsuki!”

You steal a glimpse of Bakugou—or his back, really—who’s now seated on the couch with a leg propped on it.

He’s not saying anything.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You gulp despite yourself, shifting to face Mitsuki with a grimace-smile. “It’s okay, I don’t want to make him uncomfo—”

“Come on.”

You almost get whiplash from how fast you turn to look at Bakugou, who apparently isn’t giving you a chance to argue, already walking up the stairs to the second floor. You look back at his parents, who only gesture you to go on.

Well.

You guess you’re going, then.

You trail behind Bakugou in silence, your footsteps echoing through the stairway as you go up, one step at a time. Once you land on top of the staircase, you follow him as he turns to the right, down to the door at the end of the hallway, which you now identify as his bedroom.

He pauses a few feet away from the entryway, reaching forward for the knob and turning to face you right after, an indiscernible expression etched on his face.

“Don’t fuckin’—nose around,” he grumbles, voice gruff, “or some shit.” Despite his half-hearted warning, he opens the door, leaning back against it so you can squeeze in and enter.

Typical of the King of Consistency, Bakugou’s childhood bedroom is as impeccable as every other personal space of his that you’ve got the honor of visiting. The gray walls are pristine and are only disrupted by posters of pro-heroes, mostly of All Might, but also like that of Best Jeanist and Endeavor. Piles and piles of books line the shelves at the room's corners, speckled and lightly decorated with figurines and what you think are older gaming consoles. You study the rest of the arrangements, and before you can think against it, you find yourself smiling as you survey the room, feeling a paradoxical sense of comfort blanket you.

“…What’re you fucking smiling about, dumbass?”

At the call out, the expression on your face immediately falls. You glance back at the man who’s now leaning against the doorframe, arms once again crossed in front of his chest.

“N-nothing,” you immediately retort. “It’s just that your room is so clean and well-kept.” You pause, hesitating to say the next thing, but ultimately decide to go for it. “It’s very… you.”

You don’t know what you expected him to say or do in response—an eye roll, or a lazy scoff, or a challenge, daring you to expound on what the fuck you mean “it’s very him”, maybe?

But again, Bakugou doesn’t say anything; he simply grunts.

Against your will, you feel a wave of disappointment course through you.

“…Your parents seem like such great people,” you muse, finding yourself wanting to salvage the conversation as you continue to take in the endearing details of your boss’s childhood bedroom.

Bakugou grunts again, only this time you think it’s in agreement. “They’re alright,” he grinds out, “can get a bit overbearing at times, though.”

You hum in reply, sensing a seed of happiness blossoming within you at the thought of him opening up. “I get that. But I can clearly see they love you very much.”

The man hums back, sounding deep in thought.

Your fingers absentmindedly trail the backrest of his desk chair. “Your mom said you don’t really visit as much. Is that true or was she just pulling your leg?”

At that, Bakugou heaves such a heavy sigh, that it catches your full attention. “I haven’t been here since around early this year.”

You gawk, “Seriously?”

He shoots you a glare, although there’s not much bite to it. “Don’t look at me like that. You know how it is at work.”

You nod, “…You do put in an alarming number of hours.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, do I?” he immediately retorts, although the question seems more rhetorical.

Despite that, you steel yourself to answer back this time. “I think you actually do. I know of so many heroes who treat their jobs like the typical 9 to 5. Believe me, I hear things at work, too.”

“…What are you trying to say?”

His voice is so uncharacteristically small, it catches you off guard.

In return, you try to make your voice as gentle as possible. “I’m saying I meant what I said earlier during dinner. It’s admirable—the work that you do. I think that’s what really sets you apart from all the others, putting aside your flashy ass quirk.”

You take a gamble and toss a smirk Bakugou’s way.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man was at a loss for words.

Well, there is a first for everything.

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed over the bold move you just pulled, you take advantage of the silence, walking a few steps towards the other wall. You carefully brush your hand against what looks like a vintage-looking All Might poster above the headboard of his bed.

“I didn’t know you liked All Might this much.”

His reply is almost instantaneous: “He’s only the best hero to exist ever.”

You, again, fail to restrain the smile that breaches your face. It’s adorable how defensive he’s become in a split second, having transformed into the diehard fanboy that he apparently is.

“Is he the kind of hero you aspire to eventually become?” you ask, curiosity bubbling in your head.

He shifts on his feet, taking a few steps in your direction. “Yeah,” he pauses, before continuing, “the kind that always wins.”

“Oh, now I know where that line from before came from.”

As if immediately knowing what you're talking about, Bakugou flushes in what you think is anger, but the more you stare at him, it becomes clearer that it’s more akin to embarrassment.

“Shut up.”

You snort, “So the philosophy you gleaned from All Might—that applies to all aspects of your life? Including being your underling’s fake trophy boyfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from you as you watch Bakugou stew in what you think is shame, squirming from where he’s standing as if he’s itching to jump and strangle your frame. The man, once again, glares at you, but if anything, you can tell he’s more frustrated with himself than with you.

Still, you find yourself feeling bad. “Sorry,” you start, fighting the urge to chuckle, “I was just kidding.”

“You’re a fucking handful, you know that?”

At that, you pout, the words tumbling off your mouth before you can rein them in. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t—” Bakugo splutters, “fucking—stop calling me sir, dumbass. And,” he frowns, “stop calling yourself as my underling. That shit sounds fucking demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, flashing him a grateful smile. He doesn’t return it, opting to roll his eyes and look away instead, but the corners of his lips are twitching like he’s fighting them from curling upwards.

An abrupt thought crosses your mind at that very sight of him.

And before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt it out.

“I’m glad.”

Bakugou meets your gaze, an eyebrow raised in question. “You’re glad what?”

You shrug, fighting down the self-consciousness. “I’m glad to see you seem more relaxed and comfortable. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve noticed you’ve been extra scowly lately—if that is even a word.”

“I have not.”

“Yes, you have. The other workers at the agency have noticed, too.”

“Who the fu—”

“I’m not dropping any names,” you interject, “but some have approached me asking if we were, you know, okay?”

You peer at the man, who’s now refusing to look at you. You brace yourself for what you’re about to ask. “Are we? Okay?”

Bakugou, again, conveniently decides to be mute.

“Did I do something wrong to slight you, or something? Or have I crossed a line during that get-together with your friends that one time? Because if I have, I want you to know that I really didn’t mean t—”

“I thought you didn’t want to come over,” he cuts you off.

You freeze. “What?”

He finally meets your gaze, a frown now seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Here. To my parents’. And you’ve been acting all weird around me, stuttering and stuff.”

Shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bakugou huffs, “Am I making you uncomfortable, or some shit?”

You can only gape at the man who looks so pained, as if this conversation is physically hurting him, which, it probably is, knowing him. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He seems to notice this, because his frown grows even deeper. “What, am I?”

“No!” you exclaim, thankful to finally have your voice back. You vigorously shake your head, “No, please don’t think that. I—just—I just have a lot on my mind lately, that’s why. Explains why I’m all jumpy and stammering and all over the place.”

To your relief, Bakugou doesn’t prod any further, although you can sense a bit of suspicion emanating from the man despite your answer. He stares at you for another beat before shaking his head in resignation, opting to check his watch instead.

“It’s getting late. Let’s go downstairs and tell them we’re leaving.”

And just like that, Bakugou turns his back towards you and exits the bedroom.

Right after you followed Bakugou down to the living room where Mitsuki and Masaru were enjoying a glass of red wine, you informed the couple that you were leaving. The brunette immediately got to work, packing viands into Tupperware for you to take home despite your silent protests. Mitsuki, on the other hand, tried to convince you to stay for another hour or so, but Bakugou wasn’t hearing any of it. After finally accepting that she was getting nowhere with her case, Mitsuki called on her husband to see you out by the front porch.

With a bag of aromatic dishes in one hand, you stand in front of their doorway, not knowing what to say for the nth time in one night. You chance a glance towards Bakugou’s direction, the man having entered his car already, starting up the engine in preparation for the drive back home.

But you apparently don’t have to say anything because it’s Mitsuki who fills the air.

Her smile is so gentle and motherly that you can’t help the painful throb your heart makes at the sight. It’s quickly followed by the now-familiar feeling of uneasiness that has been revisiting you again and again since the evening started.

Still, you manage to smile back. At the sight of it, Mitsuki’s expression grows even brighter.

And her voice is low when she finally speaks.

“Don’t tell Katsuki this, but I’m glad you’re the one he’s decided to finally come meet us.” She reaches out to rub your shoulder, her smile not faltering, “I can see why.”

Thankfully, Mitsuki scoops you into another hug, sparing you the embarrassment and burden of having to react and respond with some intelligible reply to such a groundbreaking statement one can receive from any guy’s mother, no less.

At the couple’s request, you promise to visit again soon, and before you get to break character and admit to your mountain of lies in a crying heap, you beeline to the car and hop into the passenger seat.

Voice gruff, Bakugou nods at you. “Ready?”

You swallow thickly.

“Ready.”

The car ride home was silent. It felt long—longer than an hour, at least, your brain buzzing with unpleasant thoughts and stomach churning with anxious feelings the entire duration of it. You couldn’t seem to fall asleep no matter how much you tried. Eventually, you gave up trying to mid-way, opting to stew in whatever the fuck is going on with you instead.

You were so engrossed in your brooding that you didn’t notice Bakugou pulling into your apartment complex’s driveaway.

At the sound of his voice announcing your arrival, you sit up in your seat in alarm before promptly gathering your things, saying your usual quick goodbye and thank you, and stepping out of the car.

To your surprise, however, he puts the car in park and follows suit, stepping out of the vehicle himself.

You hesitate for a moment before starting the short trek toward the entrance, acutely aware of Bakugou trailing behind you.

When you get to the entryway, you finally turn to regard the man, whose eyes dart down to look directly at you, hands in his pockets.

In spite of yourself, you gulp. “Thank you… for today, Bakugou.”

He merely shakes his head, expression neutral. “I should be the one thanking you. You didn’t have to come with and suffer through all that with me, yet you did.”

“I didn’t suffer,” you’re quick to correct him because you didn’t. “I actually had a really nice time. Your parents were so kind to me, and I just—I…”

“What?”

You shake your head, unsure how to accurately phrase what you’re feeling. “I just feel bad, you know? You could be bringing home a girl that you actually like to meet your parents who they can fawn over instead of me, yet here you are presenting a decoy and fooling the people who raised you all because I—”

“Hey—”

“I roped you into pretending to be my boyfriend and now look at the mess we’ve made. And I know—”

“Stop it.”

His voice comes out so commanding that there’s nothing you can do but obey.

Bakugou frowns. “You didn’t ‘rope’ me into doing this, okay? I— We—” he hesitates, mouth opening and closing then opening and closing again before he finally just shakes his head in defeat. “I entered this arrangement willingly. You don’t have to blame yourself for anything.”

“But—”

“End of discussion.”

At that, you huff in irritation, but you know better than to argue with your notoriously stubborn boss. Nevertheless, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel the gratitude that blooms in your chest at Bakugou’s reassurance.

“Now get in there,” he gestures to the apartment, “It’s getting way too fucking cold.”

As if on cue, you involuntarily shudder, which grants you a wordless ‘See?’ from the man. With a final nod, you reluctantly follow his orders and enter through the doorway, although you don’t immediately go to the elevator hall. Instead, you stand by the windows, finding yourself wanting to make sure Bakugou doesn’t get jumped on his way back to the car.

And as you watch Bakugou’s receding backside, the guilt that you’ve been tirelessly suppressing the entire night finally breaks free, threatening to swallow you whole.

This can’t go on.

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